by Debra Webb
That statement resurrected in Tom’s mind the erotic fantasy he had struggled to forget all night long. Jane, naked in the shower. The hot spray of water slipping over her smooth skin. The feel of her satiny lips beneath his. The taste of her warm, inviting mouth. He forced his focus back on the disgruntled group before him.
“How would you like to be bound and gagged by the heifer?” Hattie growled unrepentantly. She squinted suspiciously at Jane. “I don’t get mad, Sergeant Jane, I get even.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Reg added. He folded his arms over his chest as if the issue were settled. “I say we get even.”
“No one”—Tom leaned forward and braced his hands on his desk, shifting his firm gaze from one to the other—“is going to get even. Is that understood?”
Reg rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Hattie snorted.
“Hattie,” Tom insisted.
“All right, all right,” she groused.
Jane suddenly smiled. “There is something we can do,” she suggested mysteriously.
Hattie and Reg gazed at Jane with renewed interest; Tom simply looked at her. The memory of last night’s kiss played through his head again. How could he want to make love so very badly to a woman who spent the biggest part of her time calling cadence and earning marksmanship awards? But he did. Tom swallowed. He definitely did.
“When a new recruit gets out of line, we intensify his training.” Jane nodded thoughtfully, the idea obviously gaining momentum in her pretty little head. “We cut rations and make them as uncomfortable as possible.”
Tom scratched his side as he considered Jane’s theory. He’d swabbed the small spot with calamine lotion this morning after showering. Yesterday’s time out in the bushes had apparently given him an up close encounter with something he’d forgotten about. After all the years of training and working at this camp, he had to do something stupid like exposing himself to poison oak. Tom frowned when he realized just how much of a distraction Jane was to him.
“I like the cutting rations part,” Hattie enthused with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
“We’re doing hair today,” Reg said thoughtfully. He cupped his chin in one hand and pursed his lips for a moment, then smiled. “I’m sure I can work a little lesson into my creations. It’s amazing what one can do with hairspray and styling gel.”
“I’ve got just the bottle of shampoo you can start with,” Jane offered sweetly. She shook her head. “I’ll never dump anything onto my hair again without inspecting it first.”
Reg settled his hat into place. “Oh, I won’t be needing your shampoo, Sergeant Jane.” He winked at her. “I have something much more inventive in mind.”
“Reg,” Tom said carefully. “Don’t do anything I’ll regret.”
Reg looked Tom up and down, then settled a doubtful gaze on him. “You’re such a goody-two-shoes. Bet you’ve never done anything you’ve regretted.” With that, Reg pivoted and marched out the door, leaving Tom to wonder what the hell he meant by that little remark.
“Well.” Hattie adjusted her apron, then patted her hairnet. “I imagine I should get breakfast started. Our ladies will be up and around soon.” She smiled sheepishly at Jane. “Nothing like a good, hot bowl of plain, unsweetened oatmeal to start your day off right.”
Jane returned her smile. “That’s the spirit.”
Tom waited until Hattie ambled out the door before he turned back to Jane. “Listen,” he began, hoping he could do this without sounding as awkward as he felt at the moment. “I’m really sorry about last night. I was way out of line.”
“We were both out of line.” She fixed a hesitant gaze on his. “It won’t happen again, Tom. That’s the way it has to be.”
“You’re right,” he conceded, “it won’t happen again.” His gaze lingered on hers, foolishly searching for any sign of hope. “Unless you want it to,” he added before he could stop himself.
Those brown eyes looked away for a second or two, and when her gaze connected with his once more all signs of uncertainty were gone. “I won’t,” she said firmly.
Disappointment washed over him. “All right. I guess I misread your response.”
“I guess you did,” she retorted coolly. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have a formation to get to.” She turned and headed for the door.
Tom blew out a disgusted breath and dropped into his chair. Why the hell had he done that? Last night had been a mistake. He knew it. She knew it. Why did he have to try and create an opportunity for another of those mind-blowing kisses?
Because he was an idiot. An idiot who had suddenly and unexpectedly discovered that, after all this time, he still had real needs. And wants.
But why did the woman he wanted have to be one he couldn’t have?
~*~
“Tell me one more time why we’re doing this, Sergeant Jane,” Crystal called out.
Jane glanced over her shoulder but waited until Crystal had low-crawled between two bushes before she answered. “You’ve mastered most of the exercises designed for weight loss. I thought something new and more physically aggressive might speed up the process,” she lied. This was payback…pure and simple.
“Oh.” Crystal smiled, batting a hefty branch from her face. “I see.”
Jane chewed the inside of her cheek to prevent the grin that wanted out every time she looked at the weary group following her. She had gotten them through a pretty rough session that morning. They had done their calisthenics, marched, climbed several small hills, and now the grand finale—low-crawling. But it was Reg who should receive today’s gold star. He had given them all hairdos they wouldn’t soon forget. Crystal’s greatly resembled something Jane had seen on an early Madonna video. Sandra’s was a style straight off the Bride of Frankenstein. The rest ranged from frightful to punk rockish. Leaves, branches, and mud from last night’s rain stuck to all of them, including Jane.
Sandra and Beulah had spent the morning workout scratching like dogs with fleas, and Jane now had a pretty good idea who had stolen Tom’s clothes. The thought that some other woman, even Sandra or Beulah, had seen Tom’s glorious body sent a jab of jealousy deep into her chest. She set her jaw and forced the reaction away. She wasn’t jealous of Tom.
He wasn’t hers.
She swallowed.
And he never would be.
A bloodcurdling scream shattered Jane’s worrisome thoughts. She shot to her feet and scanned the women scattered on the ground behind her. Another scream jerked Jane’s gaze to the right. Veronica, who had been bringing up the rear all afternoon, had decided to take what she obviously considered a shortcut to catch up. Jane sprinted toward her. They were supposed to follow Jane. That way she cleared the trail a bit for them.
“What’s the problem?” she demanded as she surveyed Veronica for any sign of injury.
Veronica hadn’t moved. Her eyes were wide with fright and glued to the ground next to her left hand. Jane saw it then. A snake, partially hidden by the decaying ground cover. She couldn’t readily identify it, but Jane knew from the shape of its head that it was poisonous. She swore silently.
“Don’t move, Veronica. Don’t even breathe.”
Very slowly, very carefully, Jane eased around to the other side of the snake. With Veronica so close, Jane’s only option was to distract the damned thing. She crouched down and rustled the bushes. The snake didn’t move. Jane moved closer. Her heart pounded in response to a surge of adrenaline. Snakes were not among her favorite creatures. She eased a tad closer. The snake still didn’t react. Jane frowned. The thing should have reacted to her proximity. She looked around for a handy stick but there was nothing. Finally, when she felt confident enough, Jane grabbed the snake and pitched it away from Veronica.
Fortunately, it was already dead.
“Oh, God, somebody call nine-one-one!” Mildred screamed.
Her heart in her throat, Jane scrambled over to Veronica whom Mildred was now hovering above.
�
�Oh God, she’s had a heart attack!” Mildred ranted.
Jane pushed Mildred aside and then rolled Veronica over. Veronica’s eyes fluttered open and she groaned. Jane slumped with relief.
“Everything’s fine, Mildred,” Jane assured her. “Veronica just fainted, that’s all.”
“Oh, Sergeant Jane,” Veronica cried as she scrambled to a sitting position. “You saved my life.” She flung her beefy arms around Jane and hugged her to her bosom.
“It’s okay, Veronica.” Jane eased out of the woman’s hold and drew in a relieved breath.
The women crowded around them. They fussed over Veronica as if she had barely escaped certain death.
“You’re a hero, Sergeant Jane,” Crystal announced. They all started to talk at once then, agreeing and then praising their savior.
“Don’t worry, ladies,” Jane assured them when she could get a word in edgewise. “Veronica was never actually in any danger. The snake was dead.”
“But, Sergeant Jane,” Veronica argued. “You didn’t know that until you grabbed that evil serpent by the throat and hurled him over your shoulder. I’ve never known anyone so brave.”
Before Jane could argue, another scream cut through the air. “Help me!” Sandra Suddath squealed.
Jane climbed from the throng of ladies and rushed to where Sandra was still sprawled on the ground between two bushes. “What’s wrong, Sandra?”
“It’s my hair,” she whined. “It’s caught in the bushes and I can’t get it loose.”
Jane surveyed the situation. The big funnel of blond hair atop Sandra’s head was tangled in the branches. Jane knelt beside her and reached into the mass of tangles. Her eyes widened in surprise when she touched Sandra’s hair. It was as stiff as a poker. What the hell had Reg used on the woman’s hair? Spray shellac? Liquid mortar?
“Oh, Sergeant Jane, you’ve got to get me loose,” Sandra bawled as she scratched her back. “I’m itching and muddy and miserable. And I have to pee. Please, Jane, you’ve just got to get me out of this awful mess.”
Jane grinned to herself. She wanted to announce, now we’re even, but instead, she simply said, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out if it’s the last thing I do.”
Thirty minutes later, Jane had about decided that getting Sandra untangled would be the last thing she ever did. Jane’d had to break some of the smaller branches and leave the loose ends in Sandra’s hair. The poor woman looked as if she had wrestled with Mother Nature and lost. Leaves and mud were stuck to her sweatpants and shirt. Tiny branches and their attached leaves stuck out here and there from the cone of super-stiff hair. By the time they made it back to camp, it was chow time already.
Sandra had taken one look at the dinner tray Hattie passed to her and its fiber-rich but meager contents, and excused herself entirely. Veronica had done the same. Jane couldn’t say that she blamed the women. They’d had a truly rotten day. Jane smiled. But it was difficult to work up any sympathy for the two.
“You don’t think you guys overdid it just a little today, do you?” Tom scanned the bedraggled group once more, then settled his gaze back on her.
“I’ll go a little easier on them tomorrow,” Jane relented. She tamped down the feeling that this would come back to haunt her in the form of a reprimand from the general himself. She sighed. This mission would not be a success if the ladies didn’t buckle down. One way or another, she had to make the point that discipline was the key to weight loss and good physical conditioning.
Jane glanced down at her empty tray. Hattie’s chef salad had been sorely lacking in embellishments, but it was definitely healthy. Jane couldn’t recall ever having eaten that much roughage in one sitting before. She grinned again. If she didn’t work the weight off the ladies, Hattie would work it out of them.
Tom reached across the table, but hesitated just short of touching her. “You have…” His fingers brushed at something on her cheek then. Tendrils of heat slid through her at the contact. “…mud on your cheek.” He smiled, and Jane’s heart squeezed.
“Thank you,” she said, then looked away from his hopeful gaze. How could she deal with this? Why didn’t he just stop looking at her that way? As if he wanted her more than he wanted to take his next breath.
“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Mountain climbing?”
Jane stilled. She could feel his long legs on either side of hers. If she shifted even slightly either way, they would touch. She shivered at the thought of feeling his muscled thighs on either side of hers, his full body weight on hers. She could even imagine the sensation of his firm lips, ready for a kiss. Electricity sizzled along her nerve endings at the thought of his wicked tongue invading her mouth. Her feminine muscles tightened when her wild imagination played out what would happen next. Jane jerked herself from the forbidden fantasy and focused on the question he had asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted woodenly. “I don’t know what Reg has on his schedule for tomorrow.”
Reg was conspicuously absent this evening. Jane wondered if that was a bad sign. Maybe he was afraid to show his face after the outrageous hairdos he had given the ladies. Maybe lynching hadn’t gone out of style in Alabama. She touched her throat and swallowed.
“You know there’s a new movie playing at the theater tomorrow night. I hear it’s gotten great reviews.” Tom paused for a significant second. “Maybe we could take a little time off and go see it. That is,” he amended with a little shrug, “if you’d like to.” He tried hard to act as if her answer didn’t matter much one way or another.
Jane smiled sadly. His persistence, not to mention his sincerity, touched her deeply. Too deeply. Why didn’t he just forget about her? That way maybe she could forget about him. She looked away and cleared her throat. “That’s not a good idea, Tom.”
His powerful thighs closed in on Jane’s knees. Desire shuddered through her like an earthquake. She turned back to him. He nailed her with a look that told her just how determined he was.
“I knew I didn’t misread you,” he told her knowingly. “I saw the little hitch in your breathing just then.”
“Tom—”
“And you’re wrong,” he continued. “It is a good idea.” He studied her with those amazing blue eyes. “In fact, it’s a great idea.”
A scream that rattled Jane’s teeth halted the argument she was prepared to launch. Dead silence settled over the dining room. Nobody moved.
“The kitchen,” Tom suggested, already pushing back from the table.
“Right,” Jane muttered as she shot to her feet and raced after Tom who was halfway across the dining room now.
Jane skidded to a halt in the rear of the big kitchen. Tom was kneeling next to a seriously shaken Hattie who lay flat on her back in the tiled floor.
“What happened, Hattie?” Tom asked as he visually inspected her for injury.
Jane knelt on the other side of the pale-as-a-ghost cook. “Are you all right?”
Hattie looked from Jane to Tom as if she were confused. She lifted her head slightly, then screamed at the top of her lungs again.
“What is it, Hattie?” Tom demanded, concern etched across his handsome face.
Hattie pointed to a shelf beneath a long stainless steel worktable. Jane and Tom followed her gesture. Both jumped at what they saw. A snake peeked from between two large bowls. Tom swore. Hattie half-scooted, half-crawled away until the wall stopped her.
“Get that thing out of my kitchen,” she screeched.
“How the hell did it get in here?” Tom cautiously eased a little closer to the table.
Jane squinted to get a better look. She shook her head from side to side when recognition dawned. “It’s okay,” she told Tom. She leaned forward and pushed aside one of the bowls.
“Wait.” Tom jerked her back. Jane lost her balance and fell right in his lap. He held on to her when she would have scrambled away. “It’s poisonous,” he warned curtly
, as if she were dense.
“Don’t worry,” Jane told him in spite of the sudden tightness in her throat. The feel of his strong thighs beneath her butt made her heart skip a beat. She moistened her lips and forced her gaze back to the snake. “We’ve met before. It’s dead.” Jane hurried from Tom’s arms before she changed her mind and snuggled into that inviting embrace. She leaned down and pulled the dead snake from its hiding place and dropped it onto the floor.
Tom, who was standing right beside her now, kicked the snake with the toe of his running shoe. He released a big breath. “It’s dead all right.”
“And I’ll bet I can tell you just who did this, too,” Jane said disgustedly. “We ran into this critter this afternoon,” she explained.
“You think somebody went back and got him to scare Hattie?” Tom asked warily. “One of the ladies?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
Hattie sidled between Jane and Tom. She bent down and peered at the dead reptile. She straightened, hands on hips. She looked from Tom to Jane, outrage in her gaze. “You do know,” she began, “this means war.”
Chapter Six
Tom paced the length of his cabin once more. He paused at the front window and stared out at the dark July night. Frustration welled in his chest until he finally shook his head and turned back to the woman standing quietly in the middle of his room. She wasn’t helping his frustration level. But there was nothing he could do about that. The next move had to be hers. And Jane held staunchly to her all-work-and-no-play motto. Tom blew out another exasperated breath. Right now he had bigger problems than his sex life, or lack thereof, to resolve.
“I still can’t believe they trudged back into the woods and dragged that dead snake back to the kitchen.” He raked his fingers though his hair and leaned against the window frame.
Jane folded her arms over her middle and shrugged. “You were the one who thought they were too old for that kind of stuff,” she reminded.
