A Dangerous Leap (2 page)

His deep laugh made her skin tingle and sent a ripple through her stomach and lower. God, she’d made such a fool of herself. She’d wanted him from the moment he’d sat at her table. He’d chased away that idiot friend-of-a-friend who was getting her numbingly drunk. But with his gorgeous face, she hadn’t minded the change in scenery. Heck, just because she didn’t care much for sex, she still had her fantasies. And he’d starred in a gloriously unrealistic one last night—until he dumped her in a cab, the rat-bastard.

She lifted her head and propped her chin on crossed arms. “You’re not supposed to be here.” His chuckle turned into a laugh, his eyes sparkling with pure mischief. “You’d better not be laughing at me, mister. Remember, I’m a professional—I know how to make men suffer.”

Yeah, right. She was a regular femme fatale if there ever was one. She bit her lip, trying to stop the twitching response to his laughter. Finally, she couldn’t control herself and giggles escaped. She laughed until tears ran. God, after her afternoon, she really needed something to laugh at, even if it was her own stupidity.

“Feel better?” the guy asked and pushed a wad of napkins into her hand.

“Yeah. I do. And I guess I should apologize first,” she said, avoiding his assessing look by wiping away her tears.

“Why, whadya do?”

Kelly looked up, surprised by his tone. Could he really be that nice? Pretend not to remember how she’d practically begged him to go home with her last night? Real tears threatened and she shook her head in disgust. No, she would not succumb to self-pity two days in a row. She only allowed herself one day a year to wallow in it, and that day had passed, just like all the others had over the last six years.

“Okay, I made a total, absolute ass of myself last night. If you are a real gentleman, you’ll not bring it up to me, or your buddies.” She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Jeez, the rumors he could spread. They’d take off like wildfire in the tight-knit community of Coasties. The feel of his hand on hers made her snap open her eyelids. He gently squeezed her fingers and his expression was soft, sincere.

“You did not make an ass of yourself. And nothing that goes on between us is anyone’s business but ours.” He released her hand and sat back in his chair.

His promise sent a funny little squirmy feeling through her. She could almost believe it was true. The loss of his touch made her aware of wanting it back. She would have to be on guard around this guy. Guys like him were never serious about girls like her.

“I’m Ian Razzamenti, HS Petty Officer First Class. And I owe you an apology.”

“Uh-huh.”
Yeah, for not going home with me last night
. A blush sent her temperature climbing again and she hastily looked away. Her only excuse was temporary insanity caused by stress and an involuntary sexual moratorium.

“No, seriously. I told Joe you must be an Amazon.” His gaze traveled down to her chest and back to her face. “You’re definitely not.”

Kelly laughed. No, at five four and a hundred fifteen pounds of hard-earned muscle, she wasn’t an Amazon—nor would her rather pathetic showing in the chest department qualify…except didn’t Amazons have one breast removed to improve their skill with arrows or some such nonsense? God, she was truly pathetic. The name he’d mentioned finally sunk in.

“Joe? As in Joe Peterson, the hoist operator?” The jerk who’d made it clear he didn’t want her hanging from his cable?

“Yeah, he’s excellent at his job. And takes it very seriously.”

Kelly snorted. “Does he resent all women in the military, or just me?” She’d talk about darn near anything to keep Ian here with her. Between his rich voice, and eyes she could dive into—oh, yeah, she was
way
past pathetic.

He shook his head. “Nah, not really. See, he wanted to be a rescue swimmer but washed out of training a couple years back. Knowing a woman made it, especially one who’s almost a foot shorter and more than a hundred pounds lighter, will probably take him a while to get over. Don’t pay him any mind. After he gets to know you, he’ll recognize your competence and value you as part of the team.”

Kelly tried to ignore the warmth that came from his praise. The guy was a natural flirt—he didn’t have a clue how competent she was, or wasn’t. But that was okay, she’d take whatever friendship he had to offer.

His dark hair looked wind-whipped, his smile quick and easy, and even in her drunken stupor last night, he’d looked real fine in faded jeans and white polo shirt. She allowed her gaze to wander. For that matter, he looked more than fine in his flight suit. Broad shoulders, trim waist, and if she were to guess at his height, she’d put him right at six feet. A little taller than she liked, but she’d make do; after all, she could do anything she wanted with her fantasy. That’s all he’d ever be.

“Back off Razz, this bitch is all mine,” another voice interrupted them.

* * *

Ian watched Kelly’s eyes go wide at Lieutenant Caitlyn Stone’s outrageous claim. The helicopter pilot flipped a custom patch with BITCH emblazoned in bright red onto the table and perched on the chair next to Kelly.

“I heard through the grapevine you took charge and kicked butt when you got that girl on board their helo,” she said with a gesture toward Ian and a wide grin of apparent approval.

Ian chuckled at Kelly’s still-shocked expression. “Cait, you might want to explain what BITCH means so Kelly doesn’t feel insulted.”

Caitlyn sat back, her brows arched high. “What, you’ve been here all day and you haven’t heard about my invitation-only-all-girls-no-boys-allowed club?”

She tapped the matching embroidered patch on her ball cap and explained her informal sisterhood while Ian watched emotions flit across Kelly’s expressive face. Those soft brown eyes had him thinking crazy stuff. Like what would it take to make her laugh more? Or where she’d want him to touch her… Yeah, right, that made a lot of sense.

He wanted tall, blonde and ready to settle down. Someone didn’t become a rescue swimmer to simply walk away from it a few years later. All the ones he knew were certified adrenaline junkies—after all, when you signed up for training that had a better than fifty percent attrition rate, the guys who made it were committed to the job for as long as they could perform. A woman taking that on had to be even more committed to tough out the training in the first place, what with a natural lack of upper body strength working against her.

Caitlyn leaned forward. “You’re going to be on my crew for the next sixty days. That means you get to help us win the ACE award again this year.” She smiled at Ian and patted his hand. “Sorry, Razz, since you’re not an assigned air crew member, you don’t qualify. But you,” she said, turning her bright blue eyes on Kelly, “you’re an integral part of our team.”

Kelly sat up straight, looking eager as a drill sergeant with a busload of new recruits. “I’ve never heard of an ACE award. What do we have to do to earn it?”

Yeah, definitely not ready to trade in her fins for the joys of midnight feedings.
Ian crossed his arms over his chest and settled back to watch.

“ACE stands for Air Crew Excellence. Flight ops officers are looking for crews that exemplify team readiness and response. Just like you did today. Volunteering to go on that call-out despite not bein’ on the roster yet.” Caitlyn’s Southern accent thickened with her enthusiasm. “The quicker we gel as a team, supportin’, anticipatin’, and coverin’ each other’s tail, the better our chances of takin’ home the gold.”

Some of Kelly’s spark dimmed. Hell, she was worrying about Joe. Ian understood his friend well enough to know he’d never let stupid jealousy get in the way of doing his job. She would just have to learn that working with him.

“We also have an informal air crew-voted award called Deuces Wild. That’s dedicated to two teammates every air crew wants workin’ on their helo or airplane. Last year that—oops, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

Caitlyn hopped up with a saucy wink aimed at him. “Gotta go, hot date with a doctor. Kelly-girl, it’s been a pleasure. I’m looking forward to working with you.” She sashayed out of the lounge leaving a hint of tropical flowers and the buzz of energy she generated like a damn power plant in her wake.

“Okaaay,” Kelly said and glanced down at herself before casting him a wide-eyed look. “Do you see tread marks?”

Puzzled, he frowned and gave a slight shake of his head.

She gestured to her chest. “I feel like I just got run over. Is she always like this?”

He grinned, liking Kelly’s attitude as much as her perky looks. “Yeah, she is. And she’s one of our best pilots. You’re lucky your first rotation will be with her, especially during the height of hurricane season.” His smile faded. Hell, he’d been celibate too long—”perky” had never been a turn-on before.

She rubbed her bare arms as if chilled. “I’m not looking forward to my first hurricane. I’ve done blizzards, ice, floods, even monsoons as a kid, but I’ve never experienced a hurricane.”

“Monsoons, huh. Where’d you grow up?” He relaxed, content to stay where he was and ignore thoughts of Heather, his blonde girlfriend he’d left in the hangar earlier. He’d told her he had to check on a crewmember and would be a few minutes. Ian allowed himself the simple luxury of watching Kelly.

He couldn’t figure out his interest. Her hair, worn shorter than some guys he knew, had dried into soft curls that showed red glints among the deeper browns. He’d love to play poker with her because she couldn’t hide emotions if she tried—they all played across her face. Her compact body, encased in soft cotton shorts and T-shirt, was tanned and well toned without making her resemble the muscle-bound Amazon he’d envisioned a female rescue swimmer to be.

“I grew up all over the world,” she said with a laugh that didn’t quite ring true. She picked up the empty foam cup as if needing to hold on to something.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Navy brat?”

She used her thumbnail to nibble away at the edge of the cup. “Yep, I’m genetically programmed to be near water.”

“That might explain your Coast Guard choice, but why rescue swimmer?” And why the sudden tension in her shoulders and nervous fingers?

“I joined
because
I wanted to be a rescue swimmer. I learned to swim in the ocean, have always been physically fit, and had a paramedic rating before I came to the Coast Guard.” She shrugged. “Whenever I said I wanted to be a swimmer, I got a smile and pat on the head. Then some guy said I couldn’t make it past the first week of swim school, so I just had to prove him wrong.”

Oh yeah, Kelly was as competitive and committed to her crazy career as every other swimmer he knew. Heather enjoyed her administrative job in ops, but for her, the Coast Guard was only a job. She wanted to be a full-time wife and mother.

Ian shifted in his chair. “So your parents don’t consider you a traitor for not going Navy?”

She shrugged again, her casual attitude marred by the jerky motion and the lines suddenly banding her mouth. Definite problems on the home front.

“Don’t know. They were both dead by the time I enlisted.” The chunks she tore from the hapless cup grew bigger.

Ian couldn’t decide which bothered him more—the fact she’d lost her parents, or the forced indifference she displayed. He’d be devastated if anything happened to his parents.

“I’m sorry, that must have been tough. Any brothers or sisters?” He moved his hands to his lap to keep from grabbing hers.

Her fingers stilled and her smile reached her eyes, softening some of the lines. Good, maybe she wasn’t completely alone in the world. Without his loud, loving, Irish-Italian family to anchor him, he’d be adrift, like a de-masted sailboat in a storm.

“A brother.” Her look turned sad, a little wistful. “I haven’t seen him in ages. I was in Alaska almost four years and now he’s off doing covert ops stuff.”

Admiration came across in her tone as much as in her simple words. Ian leaned forward. “He must be proud of you. Not many men, and a hell of a lot fewer women, even try to do what you do.”

The remainder of the cup crumpled when her fist closed around it. He raised an eyebrow at her forced laugh.

“To a Navy SEAL, what I do is little more than lifeguard duty.”

His need to protect and comfort made him reach out and cage her hands in his. “Unless he’s some kind of macho bastard, he’s as proud of you as you are of him.” His vehemence surprised them both. She gave him a startled look and the subsequent shiver hardened her nipples.

The corner of his mouth edged up. She was interested all right, and this time not three sheets to the wind. He let go of her hands and sat back, putting some space between them. Lord, what was wrong with him? He didn’t want to get involved with a crewmember. Hell, he didn’t do petite and he didn’t do perky. But man, oh man, he did want to do Kelly.

Chapter Two

Kelly laughed at Ian’s retreat. Obviously the poor guy was so used to coming on to women, he’d momentarily forgotten she was simply another crewmate—not someone worthy of flirtations. Yep, she was good old Kel, a safe, female buddy who gave guys advice about their girlfriends and commiserated with them when they were dumped. When they actually saw her as a girl it was as a sister, never as a potential girlfriend.

Taking advantage of the space he’d given her, she stood, gathering shredded cup remnants. Time to fall back. “I need to head home. Thanks for giving me space on the helo. The last thing that poor girl needed was a bunch of guys hovering over her.”

Kelly swallowed the bile that suddenly burned her throat. The kid had been damn lucky. She stuffed her mangled cup in the trashcan. Children and predators on the internet made for ugly scenarios.

“Is she going to be okay? From what I overheard you telling the sheriff, she hadn’t been raped.”

“No, she was lucky. Thank God for an inept boater more afraid of drowning than getting caught with a minor tied up on his boat.”

“Did you hear what happened to him after he was transported to the hospital?”

“Yeah, the sheriff said after they stitched his head they transferred him to the county jail.”

“So what’s the story? How’d she end up on his boat?” Ian stood and shoved his chair against the table with enough force to knock the pepper shaker over.

Kelly arched her eyebrows.

He scowled and righted the glass container. “Sorry, I’ve got a couple of kid sisters. I would’ve killed anyone who touched them like that.”

Had her brother ever worried about some guy touching her inappropriately? Dismayed by what she feared the answer would have been (indifference, more than likely), she put her hands on her hips and regarded Ian. “Just how big is your family?”

His expression warmed immediately. “There are ten of us counting my parents.”

Kelly just stared, unable to comprehend such a thing. Ten of them—that meant eight kids? “Wow, just like the Brady Bunch.”

He laughed as he rounded the table. “No, more like the Waltons. So back to the girl on the sailboat. How’d that pervert get her there?”

Kelly had to blink several times before her mind could make the leap from a storybook childhood to a Grimm’s Fairy Tale. She ran her fingers though her hair. “They met on the internet. She’s fourteen and wanted to learn how to sail. He strung her along with some stupid story about being a teacher at the marina. They’d even met in person a few times before. But she never saw it coming.” Kelly clamped her mouth shut. The girl had been desperate for attention, her own parents too busy with their careers to give her what she needed. Kelly knew all about that kind of childhood—she’d lived it.

Ian followed several steps behind as she left the lounge. “Think she’ll be okay?” he asked again.

She needed space from him and his concern. Without looking back she kept walking and talking. “Yeah, I think she will.” Kelly slowed her stride. Someone needed to have a little talk with that girl’s mother. She forced her mind, and heart, away from possible solutions. Not her problem. She had enough on her own plate, she didn’t need to try and take anyone else’s problems on.

Right now, getting Joe to accept her as part of his crew
was
her problem. She shifted her shoulders back and fingered the silly patch Caitlyn had given her. The ACE award would be a great way to ensure acceptance in the close-knit Coastie world. Maybe even a way to get Joe’s respect and—

“You headed home? Need a lift?”

Ian’s quiet voice directly behind her sent another shiver down her spine, making her aware of wanting to be touched, to be held. She hadn’t heard his step, hadn’t prepared for his sudden closeness. From her body’s traitorous reaction, she needed both time and distance from the man.

Kelly rolled her eyes. Her libido had been dormant for so long she’d thought her body had grown totally desensitized to males. After all, she’d spent her whole life on and around military bases surrounded by men of all shapes and sizes. Heck, her job required her to be in close quarters, touching and being touched all the time. It had never been an issue.

But with Ian it was different. None of the other men were as appealing as this Italian hunk, her newly awakened hormones howled. Well, why not just add stupid to her earlier self-assessment of foolish and pathetic?

Concentrate on the conversation, Kel
. She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Yes, I’m headed home, and no, I don’t need a lift. I—”

“Hey, Razz, you comin’ or not? Thought you said you’d only be a few minutes,” a leggy blonde in uniform called from the doorway to the hangar. The look she gave Kelly smacked of ownership.

Ian swore softly. “Shit. I forgot, but I’m not about to admit that to her.” He waved at the woman. “I’ll meet you by the truck,” he called out.

When he looked back at Kelly, she could almost believe his disappointment.
Almost
being the operative word.

“Sorry, I better get going. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and gave Kelly a sly wink.

She automatically nodded. Yeah, sure, tomorrow. She should have known he’d go for a tall, curvy blonde.

* * *

Joe Peterson shoved his helmet into the locker and slammed the door. It bounced open perversely, rebounding with a clang. He fisted his hands, controlling his sudden need to break something. Hell, she’d been so scared she’d hurled all the way out to the wreck. He cuffed the door again and this time it stayed shut.

He’d busted his butt trying to earn a swimmer rating, a hundred bucks said all she’d had to do was lie back and spread her le—

“Hey, Peterson, I heard you guys launched for that mayday and had to leave your swimmer in the water. Any truth to the rumor it was the new female swimmer?” The other flight mechanic wagged his eyebrows up and down and stowed his gear in the locker across from Joe’s.

“So is she built like one of those Russian athletes with a mustache and arms as thick as your thighs?” He hooted out a laugh and popped a stick of gum in his mouth.

Joe scowled. Somehow, he could have accepted that kind of female more easily than the little bit of fluff that had practically fallen out of the helo. “Nah, she’s tiny. More like a minnow than the Hulk.” How the hell she’d be able to handle a two hundred-pound man panicking because he couldn’t swim was beyond him. And what if she’d had more than one survivor in the water? Both panicking and threatening to drown anyone trying to help them.

He stripped off his flight suit. The multi-survivor training scenario had shattered all hopes of ever being a rescue swimmer. He clamped his jaw closed. He’d never been able to control more than one “drowning” victim at a time. Hell, she’d get herself and her survivors killed—

“Caitlyn’s impressed with her,” Ryan said, coming up behind Joe and stashing his helmet in the locker next to his.

“Yeah, only because she wants more recruits for her stupid-ass girls club,” Joe said.

Ryan gave him a pointed look and Joe swore to himself. As Caitlyn’s copilot, Ryan always took Caitlyn’s side. Not that Joe had any complaints about her ability. Hell, when it came right down to it, she flew better than Ryan. And if the weather conditions were impossible to fly in, he’d climb in her helo without hesitation. No, his problem was with a little girl pretending to be one of the boys.

* * *

Karl Martinez handed a beer to his nephew Andrew, then sat on one of the two rear facing bridge chairs of his vintage Grand Banks trawler. The setting sun’s reflection rose and fell on the Gulf’s long-period swells. Maybe he’d relocate to an island when he retired. Someplace a little more remote and less pretentious than Marco Island.

He glanced up at the sound of a helicopter flying overhead and squinted. It wore the orange and white Coast Guard colors.

“This is a nice change from the afternoon storm,” Andrew said with a nod toward the horizon. He settled back and propped his feet on the teak rail and took a long pull on his Corona. “Also a nice change from my usual Sunday stuck in the computer lab tutoring kids who don’t have a clue what they’re doing. But they’re all convinced they’re going to be millionaires before they’re twenty-five.” He snorted and took another swallow of beer.

Karl propped his ankle on his knee. He really should visit his brother’s son more often. Tampa wasn’t that far up the coast and made for a nice cruise. “They’d piss it all away on designer duds and friendly fuckables,” he said and sipped his Corona.

Andrew dropped his feet to the deck and sat up choking on his beer. “Jeez, friendly fuckables, give me a warning before saying something like that.” He laughed and took another careful swallow. “You’re probably right though. For most of them a long-term goal consists of making it through one more semester.”

“You still plan on joining the family business when you graduate?” The kid had been working for the family since he’d hacked into his first network at thirteen. But he had enough smarts to do damn near anything he wanted, legitimate or otherwise.

His nephew grinned. “Well I did interview with the FBI.”

Now it was Karl’s turn to choke on his beer. “Christ, you didn’t.”

“Sure I did. They even offered me a job after I get my master’s. Cyber security is a hot ticket right now.”

“Not that I doubt your worth, but they’re looking for a mole.” Of course that could work both ways—the family would have a reliable mole working for the FBI.

“Of course they are. But seriously, they can’t afford me.”

“I’m not sure I can afford you.” Karl leaned forward and set his beer on the table. It was time to get down to business—the real reason for his visit. “Tell me what you found on the three pilots I asked you to check out.” All three had done some smuggling for the family at one time or another, but Karl had never met any of them.

Andrew’s expression sobered as he removed his sunglasses and angled his body toward Karl’s. “Any one of them is capable of doing the work. They’re all basically greedy and don’t give a damn about the legality of what we’re asking them to do as long as they don’t get caught.”

He held up his hand, his index finger pointing up. “Richards has the most time in a DC-3 and has flown aircraft in and out of the States.” He raised his middle finger to stand with his index finger. “Nelson has done some smuggling across the Mexican and Canadian borders. But Cook,” a third finger joined the digital lineup, “has refurbished a couple of DC-3s and has the most total hours. He’s even successfully ditched a plane in the ocean. There’s a lot of water between Colombia and the Florida panhandle.”

Karl nodded but kept his smile to himself. The kid had nailed it. “Did you discover anything we could use as a lever, if we need one?”

Andrew picked up his beer and smiled. “Maybe. But I want to go with you when you meet with him.”

“You’ve got classes. Besides, your place is in a nice clean office, not in the field.”

“Uh-huh. And which one of us has a pilot’s license? Which one of us knows where to put pressure on Cook if needed? And which one—”

“Is a pain in the ass?” Karl forced his shoulders to relax. There wouldn’t be any danger and the kid probably would come in handy. “I won’t make any allowance for your class schedule or any personal commitments. If you aren’t ready when I say go, I’ll leave without you.”

Andrew nodded with a smug look on his face. “If the weather’s nice, I could rent a plane to fly us up there. That would save you even more time.”

Another helicopter flew over and Karl frowned looking up at it. “What’s with all this air traffic?”

“There’s a Coast Guard base at the Saint Pete airport. They’re always flying in and out of there.” Andrew extended his legs and smiled. “Just let me know when you want to go, and I’ll be there.”

“Yeah, sure,” Karl said absently. His only experience with the Coast Guard was with their large ships running drug interdiction missions or auxiliary personnel who inspected private boats for safety infractions. He knew they had smaller helicopters outfitted with gunners to take out the outboard engines of the high-powered drug-running boats, but this helicopter looked a lot bigger. He watched it disappear over the Gulf. They probably flew all along the coast.

Karl lifted his beer and took a sip. Maybe he could use that fact to his advantage.

* * *

“Girl, that man is definitely interested.”

Kelly snorted her opinion of Caitlyn’s statement. She hadn’t wanted to like the redhead. Heck, she’d hated her just for her height, having boobs, and being such a girly-girl. But after just two weeks, she considered the woman her best friend—something she had not allowed herself since Jenny, her roommate in college.

Joe Peterson, on the other hand, was proving to be a major pain in the ass. Mostly, he’d kept his harassment below the crew’s radar, but his constant questioning of her ability and childish digs were wearing her down. She’d expected and welcomed the opportunity to prove herself before a new crew. The environment demanded absolute faith in your team. She understood it, and she believed in it. Yet she’d rarely been the odd one out before.

Caitlyn pushed her wraparound sunglasses back up on her nose, not even trying to disguise her Cheshire grin. Her wild red hair danced in the wind as Kelly nudged the port throttle forward to synchronize the twin four fifty-four engines on her borrowed cabin cruiser.

Despite her ridiculous feminine wiles, the lieutenant was a damned good helo pilot—who obviously couldn’t read men the way she could wind currents and cloud formations.

“Mark my words Kelly-girl, Razz has a thing for you. ’Course the idiot doesn’t know what to do about it yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Rather than allow the rude remark that wanted to trip out of her mouth, Kelly snugged her ball cap lower. She had only seen Ian a couple of times in the last two weeks, and hadn’t flown with him since they’d rescued that girl from the sailboat. But Caitlyn maintained that both times he’d appeared in the hangar had only been flimsy excuses to see Kelly. But come on, the guy was dating a tall blonde, what would he want with a petite brunette who could barely fill out a training bra?