One of the Boys (17 page)

“Don't you think it's rather coincidental that she left a plush job with a corporation that's very much against
alternate energy sources to come here? And one of the first things she does is put the kibosh on our test?”

Mac regarded his deputy steadily for a long minute. “What are you implying, Jim?”

“I'm not implying anything. I just find it interesting that this particular propellant has a lot of potential for commercial use. If our test succeeds, it could cut into the oil companies' profits. Be a threat to Dr. Wescott's former employers.”

“We got the draft report challenging the test over a month ago, well before Dr. Wescott's arrival. Did the final signed report differ from the draft substantially?” Mac kept his voice level, fighting his rising anger.

Ames fidgeted with his tie. “I didn't read the draft myself. Major Hill briefed me on the key points. The final report included essentially the same issues, but in much more detail. Someone put a lot more work into that final product.”

“Maybe if we'd put as much effort into our initial test design, we wouldn't have the problem we have today,” Mac responded. “Stay with it, Jim. Let me know how you work out the remaining issues.”

When his deputy left, Mac turned back to the window. The green Jag was gone. Ames's suspicions simmered at the edges of his mind, but he refused to accept them. Instinctively he knew the laughing, smiling woman that was Maggie wasn't involved in anything like what Ames hinted at. He also knew that his deputy was out of touch with current technology sharing. Transfer of the technology developed by the air force to com
mercial use was a side benefit of their work. Mac knew his staff had already shared information on this particular propellant at a recent consortium of military and civilian scientists. There was enough material about it now in the public domain to preclude the big energy concerns from trying to sabotage their test.

Still, Ames had made Mac realize there was a lot he didn't know about Dr. Marguerite Wescott. Such as why she'd really left Houston. And why a woman with her credentials would be content with field-level work. They'd talked about a lot of things during dinner the previous evening, but most of it was lighthearted banter, the kind men and women engage in during the first part of any courtship dance.

After what they'd shared last night, Mac wanted to know more, a lot more. He wanted to know the woman beneath the easy smile and mop of curls. He didn't like the thought that there were still parts of Maggie he wasn't privy to. With a determined snap, Mac turned off his office lights and left.

“Hey, Maggie!”

A loud bark almost drowned the enthusiastic yell. Maggie turned to see the twins waving energetically from the other side of the small cove. She waved back, then waited while Woof bounded toward her along the narrow strip of beach, with Davey—or was it Danny?—dragging behind on his leash. The other twin and a short stout woman followed in their sandy wake.

“Ugh, hello, Woof.” Maggie tried to keep the massive paws off her chest and the wet slurping tongue off her face. She held him at arm's length while Davey/Danny struggled to reduce the dog's ecstatic greeting to a wagging tail, though even that furious action threatened to knock them both over.

“Whatcha doin' here? This is our favorite spot. Woof loves the water, but Dad says we can't let him loose where people go, so we always come here.”

“I can understand why.” Maggie smiled down at the boys while she held her shirtfront out with both hands
to shake off the wet sand. Splotchy paw prints decorated the once-pristine white cotton.

“I'm here checking some erosion along the shore, and no, I didn't know it was your favorite spot.”

“Mrs. Harris, this is Maggie Westlake. Remember, we told you? She likes grits.” The boys knew their manners, even if they couldn't remember names.

“Maggie Wescott.” She smiled at the older woman and held out her hand. As her fingers were encased in a hard grip, Maggie suddenly remembered Mac's saying his housekeeper was a former prison warden. Clearly this was she.

“Hello, Dr. Wescott. Colonel Mac mentioned he had dinner with you last week.”

If the older woman knew that the dinner date had lasted until morning, her bland expression gave no sign. Nevertheless, Maggie felt a surge of self-consciousness as the woman's bright eyes assessed her from head to toe.

Luckily she was spared the necessity of answering when one of the twins tugged on her sleeve.

“You wanna come with us, Maggie? We've got a special place down the beach and nobody knows about it 'cept us and Mrs. Harris. We'll show you some real neat stuff.”

Maggie glanced at her watch. After a long morning in her deserted office catching up on paperwork, she'd intended to spend a few hours checking for herself the erosion along Eglin's north shoreline. She'd become so absorbed in taking notes and clambering over uprooted
tree stumps that she'd forgotten the time. It was too late now for the errands she'd planned to run this beautiful Saturday afternoon. Tossing aside her plans, she gave herself up to the boys' bubbly companionship.

“Sure, I'd love to see something special. If you guys and Mrs. Harris don't mind sharing it.”

“Nah, she doesn't mind, do ya?”

The older woman's plump face lost its blandness when she smiled down with genuine affection at the twins. “No, I don't mind at all. Why don't you two and Woof lead the way?”

Maggie admired the woman's strategy as the boys and Woof charged down the beach, wildly splashing through the shallows. She fell in beside Mrs. Harris, and they followed at a more leisurely pace.

“We walk along this beach almost every afternoon,” the older woman said. “I thought it would take some of the edge off their collective energy, but the air and the water only seem to revive them after a tough day at school. They especially love coming here on weekends when they don't have homework hanging over their heads. My name's Kate, by the way.”

“Please, call me Maggie. The boys do.”

“Yes, I noticed. They talked a lot about you after the soccer game last weekend.” Kate cast her a shrewd look. “They like you. So does Colonel Mac, unless I miss my guess.”

Maggie blinked at the woman's bluntness. She bit back the quick retort that evidently the colonel didn't
like her all that much. He hadn't called in five and a half days—not that she was counting.

“I like the boys, too. They're lively and bright.”

The woman beside her snorted. “Too lively on occasion. It's a good thing I've still got my nightstick. It's the one souvenir I took with me into retirement. I keep it hanging on a very prominent peg in the kitchen. So far, just the threat of it has worked.”

Maggie chuckled, then asked, “How long have you been with them?”

“Well, I came down here a couple of years ago. I'd just retired from the Federal Bureau of Prisons and thought I'd just laze the rest of my days away in the sun. That lasted about a week. Luckily, Colonel Mac advertised for a housekeeper about the time I started counting damp spots on the walls for entertainment.”

By the time they caught up with the twins, Kate had Maggie laughing delightedly with stories of her days “in the pen,” as she termed it.

“C'mon, Maggie, look here!”

Two pairs of excited blue eyes and two very wide grins told her this was the special place. Maggie looked around the small cove with interest. A fallen tree edged the bank and scrub littered the narrow beach, but try as she might, Maggie couldn't see what held their interest.

“Here, right here.”

Danny, yes, she was sure it was Danny, pointed. He was the one with the single dimple in one freckled cheek. He grabbed hold of her hand and together they waded toward the north end of the cove, where the water
of the bay lapped right up against the rugged shore. It wasn't until they were almost upon it that Maggie noticed the indentation halfway down the bank.

“It's a cave. Dad says Indians used to camp here in the old days. This was one of their hiding places. See, it goes way back behind the bushes and has all kinds of neat stuff in it.”

Danny pulled her closer to the hole and bent his body half into the shadowed darkness. Maggie resisted the urge to pull him out. So far she hadn't seen any snakes or wild creatures in the area, but she didn't much care for dark holes, inhabited or otherwise.

“There're bunches of arrowheads in there and some old pot bits,” Davey explained while his brother continued to root around in the cave. Danny emerged, grimy but triumphant, gripping some small stones. He took Maggie's hand and poured them into her palm. Sure enough, they were arrowheads.

Maggie didn't know much about archaeology, but she did know that northwest Florida has been home to several prehistoric tribes. They'd hunted the vast forests and fished the rich waters of Choctawhatchee Bay. In fact, the bay was named for one of the early tribes. There were several major historical sites and hundreds of minor finds scattered across the Eglin complex.

Her staff had briefed her about the consultant from Florida State University who was on call for archaeological matters. He was supposed to help catalog finds and do the necessary paperwork whenever there was any test activity that might affect a historical site.

“Dad says we can't take them 'cause they have to be registered or something. But we can play with them if we're careful.”

Maggie knew there was a whole storeroom of as yet uncataloged artifacts somewhere on base. But archaeological-consultant fees ranked low on the list of the base's priorities.

“Go ahead, look inside and see how many there are.”

“Ah, no, thanks, Davey. I'll take your word for it.” No way was she going to stick her head or any other part of her anatomy into that hole.

“Chicken!” Dave taunted over Maggie's laughing protests. His twin took up the refrain, with enthusiastic accompaniment from Woof. Mrs. Harris added her voice to the general cacophony, telling the boys to lay off. Then a deep voice interrupted them all.

“You have to learn to take a lady at her word when she says no, boys.”

“Dad! You're home.”

The boys scooted up the bank, Woof at their heels, and threw themselves at their father. Mac wrapped a big arm around each of them, only to let go to ward off Woof's happy greeting. The boys shouted with laughter when Woof managed to sneak in a wet swipe at their father's face on one of his bouncing tries.

Maggie watched the four of them. Whatever else the exasperating man might be, he was a good parent. Their unabashed joy in each other shone through like a beacon.

She and Mrs. Harris climbed the slight bank as Mac finally calmed dog and boys.

“Hello, Kate. I expected to find you and the boys here, but I didn't expect to find you had company.”

Maggie sucked in her breath as the corners of Mac's mouth pulled up in a slow easy smile. Damn, one smile and he could make her forget five-and-a-half days without a call—almost.

She started to return his greeting, only to lose his attention to a demanding nine-year-old.

“Did you fly the F-15 back, Dad? Did you? How'd it handle?”

“Yes, Dave, I flew it back. And it was worth waiting a week for. It cuts through the air like the Eagle it's named for. Come on back to the house and I'll tell you all about it.” He ruffled the boy's hair, then turned to Maggie.

“Why don't you come back with us? I smelled something delicious when I passed through the kitchen on my way out here.” His twinkling eyes told her he knew very well she could resist
him,
but probably not the offer of food.

“Yeah, please come, Maggie,” said Davey. “Mrs. Harris made lasagna. You'll like it better'n grits, even.”

“How can I pass up an offer like that? But I left my car parked back up the beach. I better go get it.”

“We'll go with you, so we can show you the way.”

The boys slithered eagerly back down the bank. Mac managed to grab Woof's collar just in time to keep him from joining them. He could just see Maggie driving
down the road with a big hairy hound sticking out of the sunroof of her Jag.

“See you at the house.” He smiled and turned to join a very interested Mrs. Harris.

By the time Maggie made it back to her car, answered the boys' excited questions about just how fast the Jag could go and followed their somewhat disjointed directions to their bay-front home, she'd managed to get a few questions of her own answered. So Mac had left unexpectedly for California to participate in some special test at Edwards Air Force Base. So he just got back this afternoon. So maybe that was why he hadn't called….

Three hours, two helpings of lasagna and a long laugh-filled game of Monopoly later, Mrs. Harris sent the protesting twins to bed. She went upstairs herself soon after, with only one or two significant glances and a slightly smug grin.

Mac poured brandy into large snifters and led Maggie out of the cluttered den to the deck that ran the entire length of the back of the big house. The last rays of the sun streaked through dark clouds drifting above the bay. With a contented sigh, Maggie slouched down in a redwood lounge piled with weather-beaten cushions and stretched her long jean-covered legs out to rest on the deck rail. Woof immediately plunked his massive head down on her knees. Two soulful eyes gazed up at her in the dim light until she got the message and began to scratch behind his ears.

“I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to call before I left for California. I didn't like leaving things unsettled between us. I thought the conference would never end.”

Maggie turned her head to study the man next to her.
He was as relaxed as she in a huge battered chair. His face was hard to see in the fading light, but she could feel his eyes watching her.

“It was a long week for me, too, Mac.” Her admission surprised her. “I half expected you to call to make sure Ames and I hadn't killed each other trying to resolve the rest of the test questions.” She could see his white teeth as he smiled in the gathering darkness.

“Well,
you're
still alive. Is he?”

“Barely. The man is more stubborn than I am. We still haven't closed on one or two issues,” Maggie warned softly. “If we don't resolve them this week, you may have to scrub the test.”

“To tell you the truth, I'm sick and tired of that damn test,” Mac grumbled. “I'm still carrying the scars from your raking me over when you found me reading your report. I was hurt by your thinking I'd had an ulterior motive for sleeping with you.”

“I'm sorry, Mac,” Maggie murmured as she swirled the brandy around in the heavy crystal goblet and scratched Woof's shaggy head absently. “I knew there wasn't a thing in that folder you hadn't already seen, but I was too upset to admit it. I'm not normally a suspicious person. I don't know what it is about you, about us, that makes me overreact so.”

Mac grinned at her. “I've noticed that your emotions do run a bit high. Seems like every time we've been together, I've had to beat a hasty retreat. That's not a very satisfactory state of affairs for a military man.”

“Well, why don't we declare a truce?” she asked lightly.

“Nope. No truce. A truce implies both parties shake hands, retire from the field of honor and go their separate ways.”

“A cease-fire, then? An end to hostilities.”

“Not good enough. Nothing so imprecise for us.”

“Well, for heaven's sake, what
do
you want?” Maggie asked, exasperated.

“I won't settle for anything less than unconditional surrender.”

Maggie bristled. She'd been her own woman too long and was too comfortable in her independence to accept his casual ultimatum.

“Whose surrender? Yours or mine?”

“What difference does it make?” Mac asked with a low chuckle. “If it matters, I give!”

He rose, then reached down to pull Maggie to her feet. Taking the glass from her suddenly nerveless fingers, he sat back on the rail and pulled her between his legs. Maggie gave a devout prayer that the railing was up to holding his weight before he tugged her head down to meet his.

A loud slurping sound brought them both back to consciousness long moments later.

“Woof, for Pete's sake, get away from that brandy!”

Mac eased her out of his arms to move toward the dog. Pulling a crystal goblet off the end of a long hairy nose, he shooed the grinning hound into the house.

Maggie waited silently in the dark while he tended
to the dog, using the brief respite to try to settle her spinning senses.

“Come on, I'll take you home.” His shape materialized beside her in the dark.

“You don't need to. My car's here.”

Mac took her chin in his fingers and turned her face up to his. “We'll come back for it in the morning.”

If there was a question in his words, Maggie didn't hear it. She heard only quiet conviction.

“You've filled my mind all week, Maggie. When I saw you with the boys this afternoon there on the beach, I felt like I'd truly come home. I've been aching to hold you in my arms all evening. Let me take you home.”

With a sense that she was committing herself to something she wasn't quite ready for, something deeper and stronger than she'd ever felt before, Maggie nodded slowly.

With that nod, she knew she'd crossed a line, one she'd had in front of her throughout her varied personal and professional life. She'd always kept things light and kept herself on the move. Even the upwardly mobile and short-lived fiancé hadn't drawn the unspoken commitment from her that Mac had. In fact, one of the main reasons she'd left Houston was to distance herself from the man who'd started pressuring her to put down roots, to take her position in the corporate world more seriously. Yet here she was, less than two weeks after meeting Mac, driving through the dark to a night of loving in his arms. Throughout the long trip back to her condo, she
wondered just who had surrendered to whom back there on the deck.

As they rolled silently through the glowing Florida moonlight, Mac, too, examined his feelings, trying to understand the fierce satisfaction he felt to have this tousled, exasperating, wholly fascinating creature beside him. When he'd seen her there on the beach, laughing with the boys, a sense of absolute certainty had jolted through him. He wanted this woman—in his bed and in his life. Tonight he'd try to make her want him, too.

He smiled when he closed her condo door behind them. She stood uncertainly in the middle of her living room, looking at him with a slight frown.

“Don't worry so, Maggie. I won't ask anything of you you're not prepared to give.”

“Damn that smile,” Maggie said with a resigned sigh as she walked into his open arms. “It constitutes a lethal weapon.”

Mac let her set the pace as she explored his lips. He contented himself with running his hands over the rear so obligingly at arm's reach and available to him in the tight jeans.

His smug confidence that he could control the pace shattered when she ran her hands down his chest, then lower still. When they moved slowly, deliberately, over his manhood, Mac sucked in a quick breath and pulled her hands away. Maggie tugged them free and went back to her erotic massage. The bulge in his jeans turned rock hard under her hands. Mac stood it as long as he dared, then groaned and pulled her hands away once
more, this time twisting her arms behind her back and holding them there with a gentle grip.

“Maggie,” he said on a shuddering breath.

“Don't worry, Mac,” she looked up at him with a teasing glint in her green eyes. “I won't ask for anything you're not prepared to give.”

That did it. With a low growl, Mac had her flat on her back on the soft carpet. Her arms were still twisted behind her back, causing her breasts to arch up invitingly toward him. Mac gave her a mocking smile that promised retribution, then bent his head and took one nipple into his mouth, his teeth worrying it until it grew hard. Maggie gasped as he continued to nip and suck at her aching breast through the soft cotton shirt. She tried to free her hands.

“Oh, no, Maggie m'girl. Not yet. I owe you for that little bit of teasing.”

Mac pushed one heavy leg between hers and used it to pry her thighs apart. His free hand roamed down her front, to the deep jean-covered V between her legs. Maggie held her breath as he cupped her mound and ran his fingers along the seam of her jeans. She felt the heat of his hand even through the thick material. And it felt wonderful.

Mac, too, could feel her heat. For a few moments more he struggled to hold on to his own control as his hand shaped and stroked her femininity. He bent down to still her thrashing head and capture her soft moans in his mouth. All vestiges of playfulness disappeared. He
gave in to the deep primal need of the male to cover his mate.

Maggie lay helpless as he released her arms and methodically removed both her clothes and his own. He made undressing a new erotic experience as his mouth touched everywhere his hands uncovered. By the time he had taken the few seconds to protect her and had repositioned himself at the juncture of her thighs, she barely had the strength to lift her legs around his waist as he directed. Mac tried to cushion her on his arms as he moved into her in long sure thrusts. Her back was spared, but her hips ground against the carpet with every move.

Mac took a handful of soft curly hair in both fists and held her head steady so he could look down into her face. He could tell by her soft moans and the gathering spasms of her satiny sheath that she was near her peak. For some reason, it was vitally important to see her face when he brought her to pleasure. Only after she'd arched under him and he'd seen, as well as felt, her shattering climax, did he allow himself to close his eyes and follow her over the edge.