Show of Force

by A. J. Quinn

  She wouldn’t make a great impression, but she needed to see Tate.

  Thankfully, the hospital was quiet. A medic, handing out food to an Afghan family waiting for a doctor to see them, pointed to his right when she inquired about Tate. Twenty feet down the corridor, she found her sitting on a bed behind a privacy screen. Drawing the curtain aside, Evan hesitated, looking Tate over to assure herself she was still in one piece.

  She’d acquired a tan since Evan had last seen her and it looked good on her. Her hair was up in a twisted knot, but some of the strands had escaped and hung loose, curling around her neck. Her lips were parted, and she seemed to be struggling to balance a tray on her lap while trying to eat one-handed.

  It was then she saw Tate’s right arm was bandaged, and then she noticed the bruising above Tate’s right eye. There were no other injuries immediately evident, but the look of pain on her face was unmistakable, and she looked surprisingly fragile.

  A single heartbeat became two and then two more, but Evan found herself unable to speak. Instead, she took an aching breath and continued to gaze at Tate. Allowing her eyes to linger on Tate’s lips, Evan was suddenly struck by a memory of what it was like to kiss her, and a shiver worked through her body.

  No other woman tasted like that. No other lips felt like those. No other kiss made her feel as much. Tate’s touch could make the world disappear, making her feel as if they were the only two people in it.

  Biting back a sigh, she swallowed past the dryness in her throat and hoped her voice would still function. “Looks like you could use a hand.”

  Tate looked visibly startled and their eyes met with an almost palpable intensity. But as recognition set in, there was an immediate change in her expression. Evan was going to remember that look of joy—pure and unfettered—for a long time.

  “Evan? Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

  “I was hungry.” She scanned the tray, sniffing at the aromatic cheese and tomato sauce appreciatively. “Is that vegetarian pizza?”

  Tate’s laughter was soft and spontaneous. She held out a slice, almost succeeding in sending the tray crashing to the floor.

  Evan reached over in time and grabbed the hapless tray, then leaned in, took a bite, and nodded her approval. “Not bad at all.”

  “For you, I’m more than willing to share. It’s actually not bad considering it’s hospital food. When I can get some in my mouth without dropping everything else, that is…sorry, I’m rambling. God, I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  Evan could feel Tate watching her for a moment, weighing whatever she was going to say. Their gazes locked and fenced before Tate spoke again. “Earlier today…that was you overhead, wasn’t it? Dealing with those insurgents?”

  “All in a day’s work. I’m only sorry I couldn’t do more—beyond providing support after the fact.” Evan gave her a tight smile as she cut a piece of pizza and fed it to Tate. She waited patiently for her to swallow before offering another piece, continuing to feed her until Tate put her good arm up in surrender.

  “No more, please. But thank you. If you hadn’t come along, I’d have ended up wearing it.”

  “As I said, just doing my job.”

  “It’s more than that,” Tate said softly. “You saved our lives today. You’ll be my hero forever.” She began to shake as if just recognizing the enormity of what had happened earlier.

  Evan took the tray and set it on a table before she wordlessly sat down next her, pulling Tate into her arms. She felt a brief splash of hot tears and held her gently. With her thumbs, she brushed away the tears, then continued to stroke her cheeks. “Don’t think about it,” she whispered. “You’re all right, that’s all that matters.”

  For the next few minutes, she continued to hold Tate in her arms, stroking her and whispering soft, comforting words. Finally Tate eased out of her arms, leaned back, and gave a hesitant smile.

  “Sorry about that. The doctor did say there was a good chance my emotions would be all over the place after what happened, and he was right. Every time I think about it, I start to come undone. But I’m all right for the moment.”

  “Okay. If I ask, will you tell me how you’re really feeling?”

  Tate blinked, and Evan could see she was uncertain how to answer. But as she tilted her head, her eyes narrowed, revealing even that small movement hurt.

  “I’m okay—really.” She sank into the bedding and fought back a tired yawn. “I’ve got some stitches in my arm and some of my bruises have bruises, but everything seems to still be attached. My only problem right now is the doctor gave me something lovely for the pain just before you got here and it’s making me sleepy. And they want to keep me overnight for observation because I got hit in the head.”

  “Were you unconscious at any time?”

  “Maybe, but only for a minute or so.”

  “Tate—” The pain darkening Tate’s eyes stopped her. Without saying another word, Evan reached for her hands. Slowly she turned them palm up, revealing scrapes and bruises. She placed a gentle kiss on each palm, felt an overwhelming surge of emotion, and willed her voice not to shake. “I’m sorry. I think I panicked earlier when I found out you’d been in that convoy and you’d been hurt.” She cleared her throat when she heard how raw her voice sounded. “I feel better now that I’ve seen you for myself. But you’re tired and in pain if your eyes are telling me anything, so I should go and let you get some sleep.”

  Visibly wilting, Tate grabbed onto her hand as if seeking an anchor in a storm, clearly not wanting to lose the connection. “I’m sorry. I’m tired and I know I’m fading on you, but please don’t go. Not yet. Can you stay a while longer?”

  Exhaustion and thoughts of sleeping in a bed vanished. “The maintenance chief’s currently working on my plane, so I’m not going anywhere until morning.” Evan gently squeezed the fingers entwined with hers and leaned in, placed a kiss on Tate’s lips. “Go to sleep, beautiful lady. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

  *

  Evan shifted uncomfortably in the hospital’s vinyl-covered chair, pulling her knees to her chest and setting her chin on them. The good news was the doctor had been by and Tate would be allowed to leave in the morning. The bad news was it would be light soon.

  It meant all too soon, Tate would be leaving the hospital, and she would be flying in the opposite direction, back to the Nimitz. Except she didn’t want to leave.

  Not without talking to Tate first.

  “Evan?” Her name was a hoarse whisper on Tate’s lips.

  Gratefully vacating the chair, Evan moved to the side of the bed, reaching over to gently push locks of sweat-dampened hair off Tate’s forehead. “I’m right here. Do you need something?”

  “Just to see you.” Her voice sounded sleepy and sexy. “You stayed.”

  “You asked me to.”

  Tate stared at her in the dim light and blinked. “I just realized something. I never thought I’d say this to you, but you look like hell.”

  Evan laughed a little at that. “Thanks.”

  “I’m serious. I can see you’ve lost weight, even though you probably thought I wouldn’t notice. You also look exhausted and in need of two or three days of sleep. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  “Too wired, I guess.”

  “But you’ve got to fly back to the Nimitz…sooner rather than later, I would guess. How are you going to do that? How are you going to keep safe if you haven’t slept?”

  “Tate, please don’t worry. I can find my way back to the Nimitz with my eyes closed. Otherwise I’ll be in for a long, cold swim and the navy frowns when we drop their toys into the water.”

  “Hey, don’t joke about it,” Tate responded in a strained voice.

  Evan mentally swore. “I’m sorry. When I’m tired, my mouth moves before my brain engages. As for how I look, it’s actually pretty normal for me at the end of a sea tour.”

  “Except you’re doing back-to-back six-mo
nth tours. Jesus, Evan. How are you going to survive?”

  “Actually—” She took a breath and straightened a little, figuring she’d put off the inevitable long enough. “I just need to survive another few days and then I can R and R to my heart’s content.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’ve a thirty-day leave coming up before I start my final tour.”

  “Oh?” Tate’s eyes narrowed.

  “Alex and I rented a chalet in Chamonix—” She’d intended to tread carefully, but the flare of disappointment suddenly evident on Tate’s face came as a moment of clarity and was all the encouragement she needed. “Do you ski?”

  Tate nodded stiffly.

  “The skiing in Chamonix is unbelievable.” She paused, feeling a shudder of uncharacteristic nervousness. “Um, you need to know my father—and probably Althea as well—will be there for at least a couple of days sometime during the second week, but I’d really love for you to join me if you could see your way to coming anyway. Still, I’ll understand it if you can’t.”

  Tate remained silent for a long, uncertain moment. When she finally spoke, her voice maintained an edge. “Are you asking me to spend your leave with you? To meet your brother and your parents?”

  There was no room for hesitation. “Yes.”

  “To be open with your family about the fact we’re involved—in a relationship?”

  Evan nodded, took a breath, and waited.

  “Okay.”

  Evan felt a measure of calm descend. Leaning closer, she gently kissed Tate’s mouth. It lasted for only a heartbeat, but it was the only thing she could think to do. She didn’t want Tate to voice her reservations. Kissing her was a much better and far more enjoyable idea. And it tasted like heaven.

  Chapter Seven

  February 16

  1800 AST

  Manama, Bahrain

  With her frustration level mounting, Tate stared at her laptop.

  She was supposed to be putting the finishing touches on a story, but nothing was coming. It had been like that all day. She’d been unable to concentrate, unable to slow the driving beat of her heart, conscious only of the date.

  Today was a red-letter day.

  Sometime last night, more than two-and-a-half months after her last sea tour was supposed to have ended, Evan had finally flown her last mission. Sometime today she was scheduled to catch the mail flight off the carrier and fly to Bahrain.

  Tate had made plans to celebrate Evan’s homecoming.

  They would make love. Reconnect. At some point, they would have a nice meal. Then they would talk. In that order. And sometime during the course of their conversation, Tate intended to make it very clear they were meant to stay together.

  There had been enough separations in their relationship to last a lifetime, and when Evan returned stateside, she intended to go with her. Be by her side. It was time—well past time.

  She expected Evan wouldn’t be surprised.

  Evan had understood her fears, better than Tate had understood them herself, and had shown remarkable patience. Waiting for Tate to open her heart and let her in. Showing her how wonderful—and pleasurable—her life could be if she only took a chance on a navy pilot whose service commitment was finally coming to an end.

  Well, here she was. Ready to take that chance. It frightened her, more than a little, that she’d come to care so much. But she was smart enough to accept this was where she’d been heading from the start.

  All day long, it was all she’d been able to think about. Daydreaming to the exclusion of everything else. Conjuring up images of Evan. And they came easily, as they always did.

  But then, Evan was never very far from her thoughts. In her mind, she was always laughing, radiating energy. Always beautiful, with a face created to haunt dreams.

  Tate smiled as she remembered the last time they’d gotten together. Evan had somehow managed to get a brief leave and had called unexpectedly, asking if she could drop everything and meet her in Germany. Tate hadn’t needed to be asked twice, and they had spent five glorious days and nights in a small hotel. Ordering room service and then forgetting to eat. Forgetting about the world that existed beyond the confines of their hotel room…

  The time apart never seemed to lessen Evan’s effect on Tate.

  She continued to fascinate and tempt. Just looking at her always took Tate’s breath away and she grinned, not bothering to contain her anticipation as Evan exited a taxi and crossed the street toward her.

  Her throat tightened as she watched long, jeans-clad legs swallow the short distance in that fluid stride she had. Her chest started to pound as she saw Evan’s mouth curve upward in that perpetually sexy, unrepentant smile. And she felt the full impact as she watched a mischievous gleam appear in Evan’s eyes.

  Oblivious to the traffic and people and rain, Evan laughed as she reached Tate. Dropping the small duffel bag she’d been carrying over one shoulder, she swept Tate up in her arms, holding her as though she would never let go.

  “Hello, beautiful lady.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  Tate inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh smell of rain and the delectable scents emanating from a nearby restaurant. A moment later everything receded and there was only the faint, tantalizing scent that was distinctly and uniquely Evan. More aura than perfume, it had always drawn Tate in. Smiling and brimming with unbelievable happiness, curiously alone in the midst of a crowd, all Tate could think was how wonderful it was to have this chance, this moment. To laugh, to touch, to love.

  She wanted to make the most of the time available to them before Evan had to return to her ship. Until then, they had five endless days without deadlines and distractions.

  Five glorious days and nights, having Evan’s mouth there for the taking.

  The first taste was never enough to satisfy Tate, but she knew she would have five days to try and get her fill. Enough to last until the navy finally released Evan from responsibilities and duty.

  “Is this all you’ve brought?” she asked, reaching for the small duffel bag.

  Evan looked at her, a frank grin shaping her mouth. “And here I thought I’d overpacked.”

  Tate pondered her comment seriously and then started to laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  Still laughing, still touching, they barely made it up to their room. The door had hardly closed before Evan’s hands moved along Tate’s ribs, brushing her breasts lightly through her shirt, undoing buttons as fast as she found them. Between searing kisses, their clothes fell away, until they were skin to skin. Pale curves and silken shadows.

  “Slow down,” Tate whispered. “We can take our time.”

  But even as she tried to set a slower pace, tried to prolong the pleasure, Evan would have no part of it and there was no staying the inevitable.

  “Ah, Tate, it’s been too long,” she whispered, her mouth hungry and desperate as if she would never get enough. Somehow sighing and tasting in the same breath. “We can do slow later. I promise. As many times as you like. Right now, I need you hard and fast.”

  Evan took control of the pace with the arch of her body. She created a sensual fog that clouded Tate’s mind until all she could think about was the sweet taste of Evan’s mouth, the soft silk of her body, the scent of their combined desire. And then driving, hot, and insatiable, she began to move against Tate with urgency and greed, with searching fingers and a wickedly talented mouth.

  Evan had no inhibitions, and when they came together, she was like a fire consuming everything in her path. She instinctively knew how to find the spots that made Tate weak. The ones that made her cry out with pleasure. The ones that made her quiver with need.

  A liquid heat filled Tate as deliciously long fingers slid inside her, taking her breath away as her body responded, leaving her blind to everything but the moment and Evan’s touch. And then she couldn’t think anymore. She gasped out a litany of need as Evan took her to the edge and held her suspended before cover
ing her mouth and swallowing her cries with a searing kiss as she came apart.

  She collapsed, her body limp, damp, exhausted. And when the last tremors had flexed through her, she finally opened her eyes to find Evan’s slanting cheeks and sensuous mouth mere inches away. Her eyes were dark and shadowed, while her sultry midnight voice whispered, “Now we can do slow and easy.”

  In that moment, as the soft voice danced along her spine, Tate understood the truth she’d been ignoring for months. She was in love with Evan. And had been for a very long time. The knowledge was both terrifying and exhilarating.

  Tate blinked slowly, her mind cloudy and filled with memories. Long after the feel and taste and scent of Evan had faded into memory, she’d continued to remember, to ache. It was what had enabled Tate to hold on—to survive—until now. She glanced at her watch when she noticed the darkening sky beyond the window, wondering when she would hear from Evan. Time ticked inexorably forward, and eventually the room was dark save for the small lamp that burned on the table.

  When the much-anticipated knock finally came, she pushed off the sofa so hard she nearly stumbled in her eagerness to get to the door. “Evan—”

  She found Jillian standing there.

  Tate pushed disappointment aside and smiled. “Oh, hey, your timing’s perfect. I’ve been going crazy waiting for Evan to show. Come on in and keep me company until she gets here, would you? Can I get you a beer?”

  “Tate.”

  “Or do you want wine instead? I think I still have some of that red you like so much.”

  “Tate,” she said again, this time softer. Quieter.

  Tate froze midway to the small kitchen, her back to Jillian. She felt cold all over and was filled with an inexplicable dread. “Don’t—”