by A. J. Quinn
“It’s a long story.” Evan laughed. “Really, it’s the kind of story that’s best saved for a rainy afternoon accompanied by a couple of bottles of wine. And we don’t have that much time right now. Maybe we can try again another time.”
There was a protracted pause as both women looked at each other. Tate finally broke the seemingly endless silence, exhaling with a nervous laugh. “Maybe,” she said faintly. “Long stories are usually the best kind. And maybe I’ll even spring for the wine.”
One eyebrow rising, Evan gave Tate a level stare. “Sounds like a date.”
“Maybe.” Tate shifted uncomfortably, aware that somewhere in the middle of this conversation, things had changed and she might have just agreed to see Evan again. She took a deep breath. Then another.
“Tate, tell me something. Other than one night of really great sex, what do you think is happening here?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Tate cleared her throat, folded her arms across her chest, and decided there was no turning back. “You need to understand the kind of person I am. I’ve never been capable of no-strings sex. Nor have I ever jumped into bed with a woman I just met, so you’re a first for me.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Tate released a small laugh. “Don’t let it go to your head, Commander. And don’t get me wrong. Quite obviously I’m not exactly an innocent. But for the longest time now, my career has come first. And if by chance I meet someone, normally I like to get to know a woman before making the physical leap. I’m really not into the one-night stand thing.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s not what?”
“It’s not a one-night stand. I’d like to think of this simply as the first night of many.”
Tate swallowed and fought the surprise that swept through her. “Oh, really,” she said dryly.
“Yes, really,” Evan replied. “Look, I don’t want to push you or complicate your life. And I certainly don’t want to take this anywhere you don’t want it to go. But while I have no idea where things between us could go, I’d like to find out.”
Tate remained silent for a moment. “I’m not sure what you’re really saying.”
“For now, I’m just saying I don’t want it to end when I leave this room. I can appreciate how important your career is to you. At the moment, mine also happens to take up a great deal of my time and energy. But I’d still like to see you again.”
“Is that a fact?”
“I never say anything I don’t mean.”
“Good to know.”
“It should help that I’m doing back-to-back sea tours. It means I’ll be in the region for at least the next year.”
“As it happens, my plans have me staying with the Middle East bureau at least one more year. But still—”
“Tate.” Evan stopped her gently. “I appreciate that between your schedule and mine, the circumstances are far from ideal. But I’m also pretty sure we can work around it.”
She was doing it again, Tate realized. Tempting her with something that simply couldn’t be. She tried again to set things straight. “I don’t think you understand. My job…my last relationship ended rather badly because of it.”
“If your last girlfriend couldn’t cope with what you do, that was her problem. Her loss. Believe it or not, I’ve met women who weren’t crazy about the idea of getting involved with a navy pilot with an eight-year service commitment.”
“Really?” Tate found herself suppressing a laugh. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I know, sad but true.” Evan smiled as she threaded her fingers through Tate’s hair and gently cupped her neck. “So why don’t we just take things as they come and not look for complications?”
Tate found herself distracted by the gentle touch of Evan’s hand. “Complications?”
“That’s right. And if we’re going to have any chance of seeing each other again, I’ve got to get out of here now, before someone sees me. Because while you may not have had any idea who I was when we first met last night, there are others, like Ambassador Connors, as well as half a dozen members of Althea’s staff, who have known me since I was a child.”
Tate found herself nodding. “Can I get you something to eat before you go? I’m pretty certain I’ve got some kind of cereal. Or I might be able to come up with some toast if you’re not too picky about best-before dates.”
“Um—thanks, that’s okay. I’ll just grab a coffee from somewhere on my way back to the Nimitz.”
“Coward. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that breakfast’s the most important meal of the day?”
“Are we talking about Althea?” Evan arched an eyebrow, her expression bright and amused. “You’ve met my mother, haven’t you?”
Tate laughed. “Good point. What was I thinking?”
Without breaking eye contact, Evan leaned closer and kissed her, more gently than ever before. Her mouth was soft and sweet and hungry, and Tate pressed her lips together to hold on to the taste. Stared and tried to memorize the gray of her eyes and how they reflected her laughter.
“Life’s all about timing, beautiful lady,” Evan said, brushing the backs of her fingers across Tate’s cheek.
“Keep your eyes open and make sure you catch the third wire, Commander.”
Evan grinned. “Every chance I get. And you keep your head down, McKenna. Especially around my mother.” With languid grace she rose, sent one last smile over her shoulder, and then walked out of the room. The door closed gently behind her.
Chapter Three
When Evan walked out of her flat, part of Tate wanted to pull the covers over her head and sleep for the rest of the day, while another part resisted the urge to jump up and watch Evan leave her building. Worse, after only a few minutes, she found she was already missing the sound of Evan’s voice. Not a happy discovery and something she would have to consider and deal with sooner rather than later.
But reality beckoned.
Shaking her head, she untangled the sheet wrapped around her waist and got out of bed. After taking a couple of extra-strength ibuprofen for the headache that was brewing behind her eyes, she padded to the bathroom looking forward to a long, cool shower. And by the time she had dressed and made her way to the embassy, she felt almost human.
The buzz among the staff was palpable.
“What’s happened?” she asked absently, continuing to replay her night with Evan while trying to pour coffee into a mug without spilling any.
An embassy staffer looked up. “There was a bombing at a club around three o’clock this morning. How the hell did you miss it, McKenna?”
Instantly alert, Tate looked up. “A bomb? Jesus, how bad?”
“Bad enough. Five dead. Fourteen injured, including several crew members from the Ronald Reagan.”
“Shit.”
“All shore leave was canceled effective immediately, and all navy personnel have been recalled to their ships,” Jillian added softly as she entered the room. She paused and the conversation resumed around her while she regarded Tate, then gave a slight grin and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll assume by the tired but smug oh-so-satisfied look you’re wearing this morning, the commander more than lived up to expectations before leaving you to return to her ship.”
There was a momentary silence as Tate considered an appropriate answer. “It was, um, I had—” She locked eyes with Jillian, felt herself blush, and smiled sheepishly. “God, it was amazing. I had a wonderful time.”
“I’m happy for you. I applaud your taste in women. And a part of me is insanely jealous.”
“Only part of you?”
Jillian’s eyes changed, darkened. She wasn’t smiling anymore as she closed the distance between them. “I’m not sure if I’m stepping in where I don’t belong, and if you want me to stay out of it, I will. But I had a chance to learn a few things about your commander after you left last evening.”
Tate nodded, knowing precisely where the conversation was
leading. She lifted her chin slightly and gave a philosophical shrug. “I’m well aware of who she is, Jillian. In fact, I knew who she was before I made up my mind to leave with her, and it made no difference to me.”
“Really?”
“It was a personal decision.”
“Did you give any thought to what it might look like? A reporter taking the secretary of state’s daughter home from an embassy party?” Jillian’s voice was soft as she continued. “The daughter spending the night with you? Tate, she’s public property. What the hell were you thinking?”
That I wanted her and it’s nobody’s business who ends up in my bed. Tate considered her response as she toyed with her coffee mug, then thought about Althea Kane and her take-no-prisoners reputation.
“Do you think this is going to create a problem with my job? Should I talk to the bureau chief about finding someone to cover for me for the duration of Kane’s tour through the region? Preferably before she has me reassigned to McMurdo Station?”
Jillian’s expression softened. She gave a small laugh and shook her head. “I don’t think you need to start packing for an extended visit to Antarctica.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because your reputation as a journalist is that you’re fearless, passionate, and very good at what you do.” She paused and took a deep breath. “But also because I understand, last night’s tango notwithstanding, relations between mother and daughter are in the strained and not speaking category, and they hadn’t seen each other for quite some time. At least, that’s the gossip from Kane’s staff. So you don’t need to get someone to cover for you.”
Relief washed through her. “Good to know. I happen to like my job.”
“But, Tate, as your friend, I have to ask. Do you know what you’re doing?”
Tate remembered the taste of Evan’s mouth, the soft sounds she made, the way her body moved and arched against her. Remembered and wanted. “Do I know what I’m doing?” she repeated. “No, not at the moment.”
Jillian sighed and shook her head once again. “I think you’re crazy. I also happen to believe what you do in your private life, with Evan Kane or with anyone else, is no one’s business.”
Tate sensed there was more, beyond a friend’s reluctance to give unsolicited advice. “I hear a but coming,” she said lightly. “What is it?”
“You’re both intelligent women. If last night was just a one-night fling and you’re never going to see the very hot commander again, then no harm, no foul.”
“That’s great, except Evan said she wants to see me again.”
“And what do you want?”
Tate frowned and pressed her lips together as she stared at Jillian. “I honestly don’t know.” Feeling a surge of frustration, she blew out a breath. “I don’t deny I feel a strong physical reaction to Evan—I mean, hell, you’ve seen her. You also know I’m lousy at relationships and I’m not ready to go down that road again. But I don’t know if I can do a no-strings, just-sex kind of thing.”
Given their friendship, her response could hardly be surprising and was enough to make Jillian smile. “Sweetie, you’re not lousy at relationships. You just haven’t met the right woman.”
“I’m not looking for the right woman.”
“I know you’re not. And until you do, if you’re going to consider a purely physical relationship, I can’t think of a better choice than the made-for-sin Lieutenant Commander Kane.”
Tate narrowed her eyes. “Are you seriously encouraging me?”
“Sure, why not? You liked her, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it will work.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Tate bit back the sarcasm about to roll off her tongue. “Look, let’s just forget about this conversation, okay?”
But Jillian waited expectantly and wouldn’t let her off the hook. “Tell me why it won’t work first.”
“Because, damn it. My job makes things complicated. You’ve seen it firsthand. The odds are high she’ll get leave and want to get together. But it will be like it’s always been. I’ll be unavailable because I’ve gone to Cairo or Benghazi or Kabul on some story. And after a couple of tries, no matter how good the sex is, she’ll grow tired and move on.”
“I agree it’s bound to happen at some point,” Jillian countered mildly, “but I’d think if anyone is going to understand the unpredictable nature of your job, it’s a pilot serving on the Nimitz. Isn’t she just as likely to be unavailable when you have an urge to get together?”
Tate opened her mouth to protest and then stopped as she realized Jillian was right. Well, damn. What was she supposed to say to that? Turning, she narrowed her eyes and stared at her sharply. But all Jillian did was smile blandly.
“Let me know how it works out,” she said before she slipped out of the room.
*
The moment she stepped on board the Nimitz, Evan was met by three fellow pilots—Deacon Walker, J.D. McNeely, and Will Jones—all sparking with an as yet unidentified energy. Not necessarily a good sign, she mused, but after the night she’d spent with Tate, she doubted if anything they said could dampen her mood.
Brow lifted, she smiled. “A reception committee? How sweet.”
Of the three men facing her, she’d known Deacon the longest. He was not only her wingman. He’d been her closest friend since she’d abandoned graduate school and joined the navy. The scowl he sent her was therefore rendered meaningless.
“Commander,” he said, casually saluting. “About time you got back. The captain wants to meet with us ASAP.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, scuttlebutt has it he wants us to participate in some high-level exercises with a group of air force pilots from the UK and Saudi Arabia. He’s waiting to hear you think we’re up for it and won’t embarrass the US Navy.”
Because she recognized the gleam in his eye, Evan narrowed her own. “Does that mean I won’t have to spend the next two weeks serving as Landing Signal Officer while a bunch of nuggets do carrier qualifications?”
Deacon almost managed to maintain a straight face. “Why yes, ma’am, I believe it does.”
“Cool.” Evan grinned. “Do I have time to get changed?”
Jones responded, “Hell, no. Doesn’t pay to keep the captain waiting. He might pass this opportunity on to someone else, so you’re just going to have to see him looking like you spent the night with some gorgeous woman screaming out your name.” He paused for effect before grinning and adding, “Of course, I say that with the utmost respect, Commander.”
“He’s just jealous because you score with the ladies more than he does,” Deacon said.
“Everyone scores with the ladies more than Jones,” McNeely said dismissively.
“Unfortunate, but true,” Jones conceded. “But if the commander would be willing to give me some pointers—”
“What?” Evan choked on a surprised laugh and felt her face heat but wasn’t certain if it was embarrassment or annoyance. She shook her head, muttered something inventive, and blew out a breath. “Sorry, Jones, but that’s one discussion we’ll never have.”
“I don’t believe your suggestion is anatomically possible,” Deacon said with a laugh as he fell in step beside her, while Jones and McNeely quickly walked ahead. “Don’t mind Jones. He’s been jealous ever since you hooked up with that sexy British pilot when we were in Tokyo.”
“Julianna Spencer.”
“That’s the one.” He paused and glanced at Evan. “Since the Brits are involved, I wonder if the lovely Captain Spencer will be part of the upcoming exercise.”
Considering, remembering, Evan looked away. “That would make it interesting. She’s a hell of a pilot.”
“That’s it? No interest in revisiting a past conquest?”
“Not particularly.”
Something in her face must have given her away, although Evan would have sworn she kept it blank and unreadable. She felt Deacon’s questioning
gaze and silently cursed. He knew her—too well—and there was something about the way he looked at her that could always get to the core. Immediately, she tensed, closed up. And he saw it.
“Evan?” He lowered his voice. “Is everything all right? Did something happen last night after you left the embassy party?”
Ten seconds passed, then twenty. “Maybe. I guess so.” She swallowed. “All I know is I met the most amazing woman.” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head helplessly.
“The sexy redhead?”
She responded with a quick nod. “No smart remarks?”
“Never crossed my mind, Commander.” But the corner of his lips quirked.
“Smart-ass. Don’t know why, but I’ve always liked that about you.”
Deacon said nothing, but his grin widened.
Evan struggled not to smile back at him, ended up laughing instead. “Damn it, Deacon. Don’t grin while I’m trying to figure out how I got in over my head so quickly.”
Obediently, Deacon wiped the smile from his face. “Sorry.” He watched her a moment longer. “Are you thinking about seeing her again?”
Evan shook her head. Saw the disappointment in Deacon’s eyes. “Don’t need to think about it, I know I’m going to see her again. Just have to figure out the when and how.”
She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, nearly jolted at the sound of her own voice as she watched Deacon’s grin flash.
“I’ll be damned,” he said softly.
Yeah, except the lady wasn’t certain she was interested. Now all Evan had to do was figure out how to convince Tate to give her a chance.
*
A full week flew by before Tate had the opportunity to try and learn more about Evan Kane. Seven grueling, chaotic days spent breathing the dust and sand and detritus of thousands of years as she chased interviews and stories throughout a troubled region.
Finally, exhausted and alone in her tiny flat, she lit a candle, poured herself a glass from the bottle of California red Jillian had managed to score for her, and allowed herself to decompress. The wine eased the dryness in her throat and reminded her of home. And in the gathering darkness, as she circled a finger around the top of her half-full glass, she watched the candle’s flame reflected in the wine and thought of Evan.
