Operation Summer Storm
Summer took a closer look at what the men were up to, and felt her stomach clench with a sick sensation. “What’s going on?”
“We’re jumping,”
Del explained with a shrug, as if it were totally obvious.
“From the
plane?” she yelped, in disbelief.
“That’s the
general idea,” Maloney piped up.
Summer swivelled
to find Tate, and staggered her way, against the unsteady gait of the plane, to
stand before him. “You didn’t tell me anything about jumping out of a plane,”
she yelled, over the noise.
“You didn’t
ask,” he shouted back.
Summer stared at
him in disbelief, “so I’m going to land with the plane?” she asked hopefully.
“Only if you’ve
changed your mind and want to make the return trip back to the island, tonight.”
Summer stared at
him helplessly, “I can’t parachute,” at least she assumed they were going to
use parachutes—then again—who’d know,
with this lot. “I don’t know how.”
“You won’t have
to.”
“Then how am I
getting off the plane?” she asked becoming more exasperated by the minute.
“Step into
this,” he said, holding out a black harness contraption.
Summer stared at
it for a second, and then started to back away. Oh God, she hated heights. How
on earth was she going to do this?
He took a step
toward her, and helped her into the harness while she still appeared dazed.
“Now, turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around,”
he repeated, slowly circling a finger in the air to demonstrate.
Summer caught
the look in his eye and decided not to argue. She stiffened as Tate reached
around her and began hooking various gadgets and buckles together—deftly
working around certain areas—areas that were not used to being…worked around.
“Just what—”
Summer asked, through tightly clenched teeth, “—do you think you’re doing?”
“You’re jumping
with me,” he informed her in a calm tone.
“I told you, I
don’t know how!”
“You’re
jumping…with me,” he repeated as if to a slow-witted person.
The meaning
became clear and alarm followed a brief sense of relief, as she realised the
extent of what with him, involved. She’d seen enough TV reports on tandem sky
jumping, to know just how close the two jumpers got. She didn’t, however, have any
more time to think about it because all of a sudden, it was time to do it.
A large door
opened and the noise she’d thought, couldn’t get any louder, just did. The
others were busy throwing the equipment through the doorway, when Tate lent
close to her ear so she could hear him.
“Usually this
would be a half hour run through, before your jump, but we don’t have time. So
here’s the condensed version. When I tap your shoulder, spread out your arms
and legs, and when I tap again to land, bring them in again. Okay?”
Summer stared
back at him in disbelief, her thoughts bordering on hysteria. He expected her
to jump out of a plane with thirty seconds of training?
They moved closer to the doorway, and she
panicked. She now stood in the open doorway of a moving aircraft.
Tate put his
arms around her and coaxed her frozen fingers from the side of the
door frame. “Just relax, I’ll take care
of you,” his deep voice promised as he shouted over the thundering noise around
them into her ear.
She could feel
his big body pressed tightly against her back. “You better not be doing this
for some kind of cheap thrill buddy because, I swear, if we make it down there
alive, you’ll live to regret every moment,” she shouted back at him.
“Darlin’ there
ain’t nothing cheap about the thrill I’m getting at the moment,” he assured
her. “—and if we don’t make it,” he added with a deep drawl. “—just know I’ve
died a happy man.”
Summer’s un-lady
like retort froze in her throat as they fell through the opened doorway into
the abyss.
Operation Willow Quest
A soft sound drew
her attention back to Del once more. He’d rolled his head sideways and was now
watching her with that steady unflinching gaze that seemed to be constantly
weighing her up.
“You all right?”
he asked in a soft drawl.
Willow gave a
shrug, pushing her jumbled thoughts aside. Her eyes fell to his hand and saw he
was absently rubbing his injured thigh.
“Is your leg
hurting?” she asked with a mild touch of concern.
Looking down at
his leg he slowly removed his hand and gave a wry smile. “Not much.”
She didn’t believe
him but she didn’t feel like arguing either, so she let it go. The hum of the
aircraft’s engines created a soothing backdrop and added to the illusion they
were somehow isolated from the rest of the passengers.
“Thank you for
coming down here. I really don’t know what would have happen to me if you
hadn’t been there,” she said quietly. Looking back now, Willow was sure that
without Del’s help she’d probably be sitting in some prison cell—or worse, if
Trèago had been behind the police raid. “I’m sure you had plenty of other stuff
you’d have rather been doing.”
* * * *
Del looked her
over in contemplative silence before a slow grin crossed his face. “Not
really.”
“I know I can be
a bit—”
“Pig headed,
stubborn, bad tempered…” Del filled in helpfully.
“I was going to
say ‘obstinate,’” she said dryly.
“You know, using
big words like that might be a bit risky on a dumb old marine,” he pointed out,
as he enjoyed the way her eyes narrowed as her temper built.
“I never said
you were dumb. I’ve simply pointed out that you’re not my type. I realise an
ego the size of yours must have a hard time handling that—but I’m sure you’ll
get over it.”
He lifted an
eyebrow. “I thought you were apologising.”
“I have nothing
to apologise for! I was simply trying to…oh forget it, we’re only going to end
up fighting, and I’m not in the mood.” She sighed wearily.
Dels low chuckle
had her snapping her head around to glare at him suspiciously.
* * * *
“Why don’t you
just admit that you’re attracted to me and that I make your knees go weak and
we’ll leave it at that,” he suggested with a shrug.
Willows mouth
gaped open in disbelief, but he kept talking.
“Come on
Sheldon, we both know what’s simmering under the surface here. Hell—I’ll admit
it—you make me hotter than hell. You get me so worked up most of the time I
don’t know whether to strangle you or kiss you,” he said, his voice losing its
teasing note to become rougher with each admission. “Do you know what I see
whenever I look at you?”
Mesmerised by
the force of his gaze, she could only move her head a fraction side to side.
“I picture you
sprawled across my bed—moaning my name over and over—”
“I get the
picture,” she snapped quickly after gaping at him in astonishment for a few
seconds. What the hell did he think he was doing? She shook off the images that
flashed before her own eyes. Boy, did she ever get the picture… “I can’t even begin to
imagine any girl finding that line a turn on,” she lied. “You would have to be the
most, egotistical, arrogant, obnoxious bloody man I’ve ever laid eyes on,” she
whispered furiously, gathering her scattered thoughts and turning on him with a
narrow-eyed gaze.
“Hey! I’m going
to look up all those words when I get home, you know,” he warned.
He’s yanking my
chain again. Gritting her teeth and counting to ten slowly, Willow forced
herself to continue, ignoring his interruption, “and if you think for one
moment I would actually even consider sleeping with you—”
“Uh-ah,” he
said, leaning towards her threateningly, “make no mistake—when we go to bed
together darlin’, for real,” he emphasised, acknowledging their previous
sleeping arrangement, “I can assure you, we won’t be doing any sleeping,” he said.
Her eyes widened at the unmistakeable image he’d
drawn for her. “You’re not my
type,” she repeated, captivated by the blue of his eyes as he leaned across,
his gaze holding hers securely.
“Why?”
“Because
you’re…” Her words trailed off faintly as she caught the musky male scent he
wore and saw his eyes deepen. He was moving—or maybe she was—but somehow she
was getting closer and her heart began thudding painfully against her chest,
making her feel off balance and out of control.
“Excuse me,
would either of you like another drink before we land?” The hostess’s polite
voice had the same effect as a bucket of cold water being thrown over them.
Del looked away
from Willow and nodded faintly. “Give me another scotch…straight.”
Willow sank back
against her seat and let out a long slow breath. “Make mine a double.”
She heard Del’s
uneasy chuckle as he ran a hand through his short hair restlessly and gave a
small nod of satisfaction.
Good. She wasn’t the only one shaken by the
encounter…now if they could pretend they didn’t feel the lingering hum of
desire for the remainder of the flight, everything would be fine.
Operation Swift Mercy
“What happened?” He managed to get out, glad he sounded a
lot calmer than he was feeling.
“I was in the shower,” she whispered. “Then all of a
sudden he was just there, in the bathroom.”
“Why didn’t you lock the room door before you took a shower?
You saw the kind of men who work here when we came on board. Why the hell
didn’t you make sure you were safe before you went in there?” What he was really
thinking was why the hell he hadn’t made sure she’d locked the door…why he
hadn’t made sure she was safe.
“I just didn’t think…I mean I didn’t think anyone would come
in…I—”
“He had his hands all over you,” he grated, pushing away
from the door to pace the room.
“Why are you acting as though it was my fault? He broke into
my room! I didn’t exactly ask him in!” She yelled and Chase smothered another
curse at his stupidity. He was handling this all wrong. God damn it! Out of all
of them, he was the one who usually knew what to do in situations like this—at
least he had, until it was his woman in the line of fire. Now he was a hyped-up
testosterone filled maniac who couldn’t seem to say the right thing.
He saw fresh tears building in Mercy’s eyes and forced
himself to calm the hell down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” He reached
out to draw her close to him, but she grabbed his arm and pulled his hand
closer to her for inspection.
“You’re hurt,” she said and he heard her voice crack
slightly.
He didn’t bother looking at his hands, he knew his knuckles
were covered in blood—most of it wasn’t his though and he headed into the
bathroom to wash it away—he didn’t want anything belonging to that man anywhere
near Mercy.
Behind him, he felt her enter the room. There was very
little space with one person in there; two made it little more than standing
room only. She placed her hands on his back and she felt her tug at his
t-shirt.
“You’ve got blood all over your clothes,” she said quietly,
continuing to move the fabric up over his torso and over his head.
Chase didn’t dare breathe in case it broke the fragile
moment. She’d never been the one to initiate a move until now. He closed his
eyes and searched for a measure of control as she gently caressed the skin on
his back. He knew she would be looking at the scars—a legacy of wounds he’d
received over his long career in Force Recon. They’d never taken the time to
really look at each other when they’d made love before—it had always been a
heat of the moment kind of thing. He vaguely worried that seeing him now, with
all his faults and scars visible, she’d have second thoughts about wanting
him but she continued to explore, taking her time to caress the puckered and
risen scar tissue with a gentleness that almost undid him.
“I want to see you—all of you,” she said quietly, so
quietly, he wasn’t sure at first he’d heard her. Slowly he turned to face her,
his gaze locking onto her face and holding her gaze steadily. He slowly reached
down and unbuttoned his fly, tugging at the zipper, careful to manoeuvre
over the all too eager part of him that had been straining for release.
He watched as she lowered her gaze, and felt himself leap in
anticipation. He would have apologised, even though he had no control over how
Chase junior chose to react to a beautiful woman touching him with the softest
hands he’d ever felt in his entire life, but it didn’t seem to bother her.
He stifled a groan as she gently stroked him and clenched
his fists by his side to keep from grabbing her and doing her right here
against the wall of the bathroom.
She began rhythmically sliding her hand in long sure
strokes, the movement causing sweat to break out across his brow.
“Baby, I don’t know how long I can stand here and take this,”
he groaned, dropping his cheek to rest on top of her head, weakly.
“So don’t just stand there,” she said, pulling back slightly
to look up at him with a shy smile.
Operation Date with Destiny
“Names Johnny,” he said holding his hand out and saw her
hesitate briefly before sliding her smaller, well-manicured one into his.
“What’s yours?”
“Destiny,” she said in that sultry tone that reminded him of
hot sweaty nights tangled in silk sheets.
“Not every day a guy gets to meet his destiny.”
“You never know your luck,” she said softly and he watched
as a slow, sexy smile spread across her lips, causing a roar of pure,
unadulterated lust to echo through him.
Most people who hung out in this bar were connected to the
base in some way, but she didn’t look the type. “I haven’t seen you here before.
What line of work are you in?”
“I’m an accountant.”
Tupper sent her a sceptical lift of his eyebrow. “No way.”
“Way,” she shrugged slightly.
“Wow. You know if my accountant looked like you—I’d actually
look forward to filing my tax return.”
She smiled politely, but beneath it, Tupper sensed she’d
probably heard her fair share of similar remarks and wasn’t impressed. Better
lift your game pal, he thought quickly. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No,” she said and for a moment his hopes teetered on the
cusp of disappointment. “Not here…but maybe at your place?”
“You wanna’ go back to my place?” he said, staring
dumbfounded into those dark, bottomless eyes. This wasn’t the way he usually
worked—he was the one who made the first move. He did the asking and okay—he had
to admit it, sometimes he got a slap across the face for his trouble…but this
woman threw him off his game. Snap out of it dumbass! His ego barked. Pull your
shit together and tap that fine ass before some other guy does.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said and her voice held a
slightly sardonic tone.
“Ah, sure—we can do that,” he said, striving for something a
little more indifferent. He stood up and put his hand out to indicate she
should walk ahead of him to the door. He couldn’t help but watch the sway of
her hips in the tight red dress, his eyes fixed on the intricate detail of the
set of wings across her back. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this
stroke of good luck that had almost, quite literally, fallen into his lap—but
he wasn’t about to throw it away. Now, if he could just remember he was a grown
man and not a God damn teenager—he might just get through this without
embarrassing himself.
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