One of the Boys (5 page)

Grimacing, she glanced down at her shoes. She'd bought these bright red strappy sandals because they matched her dress so perfectly, but they certainly weren't the right footgear for traipsing through the brush after downed missiles.

“They've found it,” Jake told her when he returned a few minutes later. “It's about a half mile off the road and appears to be in pretty good shape.” His glance went to her shoes, sunk to the heels. “I've got some boots in the back of the truck if you want to trek through the woods to the site.”

“That's what I came for, Colonel.”

Unbuckling her sandals, Maura pulled on the boots and tried a few experimental steps. The rubber slapped at her knees and sucked away from her foot every time the heel hit the soft sand. Disregarding these unpropitious signs, she clumped over to Jake.

“All set. Lead the way.”

She had to stop several times to tug a boot back on, but they finally made it to the perimeter of the impact site. Yellow tape was wrapped around tree trunks, enclosing a circle approximately the size of a basketball court. Explosive-ordnance personnel in heavy safety suits maneuvered a backhoe around a blackened hole. Inside the hole was the Maverick, buried up to its tail fins.

The rest of the response team waited outside the circle. They greeted Jake respectfully, nodded to Maura and turned to watch while the crew inside the taped area worked to unearth the missile. The shadows cast by the tall pines gradually lengthened. The only sound was the steady grinding of the backhoe's gears and a dull thud as each load of earth was dumped aside. Finally, after what seemed like hours,
a recovery-team member slipped into the widened pit and fixed a harness around the exposed tail.

At his signal, the crane operator slowly, inexorably, pulled the white tube from its shadowy depths. Maura breathed a relieved sigh when she saw the missile appeared pretty much intact.

“Wait here,” Jake instructed. Ducking under the tape, he went to examine the missile.

Maura soon found herself engaged in friendly conversation with two of the range-patrol officers. In the ensuing twenty minutes she learned more about the strange events that could occur on Eglin's half million plus acres than she would ever have imagined possible. The range officers had wild tales of marijuana growers and poachers and more than one party of skinny-dippers caught in the buff enjoying the reservation's creeks and streams. One enthusiastic officer was just beginning a gruesome account of decomposing bodies found recently when Jake returned.

Excusing herself, Maura shuffled beside him through the tall trees. When she lost her boot for the third time, he took matters into his own hands. Literally.

“We'll never make it out of the woods at this rate.”

Before she realized his intent, he'd bent, slid one arm under her knees and lifted her easily in his arms.

“Grab the boot,” he instructed, dipping so she could retrieve the errant footwear.

Her twisting movement brought her breast in di
rect contact with Jake's palm. His body went on instant alert as the soft flesh filled his palm. He could feel the lacy pattern of her bra and the hard little bud of her nipple.

Maura's startled eyes flashed up at him. Her little speech about not mixing business and pleasure slid into Jake's mind, then slid right out again. The stress of the past weeks, the crushing disappointment of the failure, the tension of the work still ahead—everything coalesced to this one point in time. All he could think of in the endless moment when her eyes held his and the soft flesh burned against his hand was how much he wanted her.

This contradictory, tantalizing, vibrant woman had lodged like a burr under his skin. She filled his thoughts more than he'd allowed any woman to in a long, long time. And she filled his body with a surge of desire so raw it slipped past the rigid guard he kept on his emotions.

Maura saw the raw hunger that leapt into his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as an answering flame seared through her veins. The trees, the trail, the dappled shadows, faded from her vision. Her entire world narrowed to a lean, tanned face and a pair of gleaming silver eyes.

All these weeks of sternly denying her attraction to this man slowly dissolved. Her mental barriers crumbled, and resistance flowed out of her consciousness like sand sifting gently through a sieve. What was left was a rock-hard core of absolute desire.

“Well, what do you know?” she said on a shaky breath. “We're chest to chest again.”

“Yeah, we are.”

A small, savage smile lifted Jake's lips. He could read the dawning desire in her expressive face as clearly as he could feel the tension quivering in her body. Slowly he let her slide down his body. He kept her pinned against his chest with one arm, feeling every inch of her long, soft form pressing into him. His other hand moved up to tangle in her silky hair.

Maura waited, breathless, her head drawn back. The pounding of her heart filled her ears. His warm breath washed across her face, and the faint scent of tangy cologne drowned out the rich, verdant odor of the pines. When he finally lowered his head and took her lips, she was aching for his taste.

Jake moved his mouth over hers needily. His hands slid down her back to shape her buttocks. Effortlessly he lifted her into the cradle of his thighs. His hips pressed against hers, grinding, rolling.

A faint sound teased at the edge of his consciousness. When it gradually resolved into a pattern of footsteps coming through the brush behind them, he gave a frustrated growl and lifted his head.

The sight of Maura's thoroughly kissed lips and heavy-lidded eyes sent another blade of desire knifing through him. He felt a primitive urge to drag her into the underbrush, cover her body with his until the intruders passed, then plunge into her right then and there.

Instead, he took a deep, unsteady breath and swung her into his arms once more. Striding down the last quarter mile of trail, he lifted Maura into the truck.

“Buckle your seat belt.”

Maura fumbled with the metal clip. Her breath still came in short little gasps and she wondered wildly if her heart would slow to only double time, or even triple, during the long ride home.

It didn't. Every time she stole a glance at Jake's profile, her pulse speeded up once more. He didn't say a word during the whole drive home. He didn't have to. He radiated such a devastating aura of male potency that Maura shivered in erotic anticipation.

Her doubts about getting involved in a physical relationship with this man came back to haunt her. Some small corner of her rational mind tried to send out a warning signal, but she ignored it. This time the sensual part of her brain, the side that loved bright colors, glorious sunsets and romantic tenors drowned out the analytical side. She could handle it, she told herself. She could keep the compartments separate. Work. Sex. Jake.

Which didn't explain why her heart was hammering against her ribs when he pulled to a stop beside his own car in the lot outside his office.

He slammed out of the truck and came around to lift Maura out. Caught up in a daze of quivering, simmering expectation, she forgot her shoes and her purse. Nothing registered but the feel of his arms as
he settled her in his car. They were pulling into the driveway of her cottage before she even realized she still wore one boot. She pushed it off just as Jake came around to the passenger door.

Thankfully, she kept a spare key under a flowerpot beside the door. Jake kicked the door closed behind them, Maura in his arms. To her surprise, instead of heading to the bedroom, he stopped in the hallway and let her slide slowly down his body. Her toes curled on the cool parquet floor. Still held in the circle of his arms, she looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

“I want you, Maura,” he told her softly. “I want to make love to you until we both explode, then love you again.”

Maura nodded, long past the point of being able to disguise her own need. “I want that, too.”

“No worries about mixing business and pleasure?”

“Some,” she replied honestly. “But I've decided we're two mature adults. Surely we can keep a physical relationship in perspective.”

“A physical relationship?” Jake's eyes narrowed. “Are you saying all you want is sex, no strings attached?”

Some of the romantic haze surrounding Maura faded just a bit. “Isn't that what you want?”

“No. I want to make love to you.”

Exasperation feathered at the edges of her sensual haze. Having been swept off her feet in the most
dashing, romantic style and driven home in a fever of anticipation, the last thing she expected was to be standing in the hall, arguing semantics.

“Well, what's the difference?”

Jake stared down at her, an arrested expression in his silver eyes. A little embarrassed now, Maura fidgeted under his look. This wasn't going at all as she expected. Just when she was about to push herself out of his arms, his mouth curved.

“If you don't know the difference between having sex and making love, Maura m'girl, it will be my pleasure to teach you.”

And he did.

Slowly. Deliciously. Wonderfully.

Holding her against him with one arm, Jake tipped her chin up for his kiss. Maura had a moment to wonder just what she'd got herself into before his dark head lowered and his mouth covered hers.

On a scale of one to ten, she decided, just before she lost all ability or desire for analytical thought, the kiss rated a twenty-two. It began lightly, a quick, whisper-soft brush of his mouth across hers. Then Jake caught her lower lip in a little bite, running his tongue over the sensitive inner flesh, and she felt a tiny flame flicker in parts of her body she'd never realized were connected to her lip. She reached up to steady herself with a hand on his shoulders, then slid both arms around his neck.

Widening his stance, Jake let her fit her body to his. It took every ounce of his willpower not to crush
her against him, but for all his raging desire, he fully intended for Maura to experience every exquisite sensation of the act of love. He wanted to draw this out, show her every pleasure, even if it damn well killed him.

Soft little moans were coming from the back of her throat when he lifted her in his arms. He used the short walk down the hallway to her bedroom to take deep, steadying breaths. They were a serious mistake.

Every expansion of his chest muscles brought them into intimate contact with her breasts. Even through his flight suit, he could feel her tight, taut peaks. His iron control almost shattered right then and there.

In the dim bedroom, he laid Maura on the wide bed and let his eyes feast on her. The red dress rode halfway up her legs. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly in the soft light, and her arms lay above her head in an unconscious gesture of invitation. Soft brown hair spilled across the pillow, framing a face both shy and welcoming.

Jake sank to the side of the bed and reached out with hungry hands for the tiny coral buttons on the front of the dress.

“Dammit!”

He barely got his hands back unscathed as a long, hairy paw lashed out, claws extended.

B
iting her lip to hold back a smile, Maura scooted off the bed. A hissing Bea glared at Jake from the safety of her arms.

“Sorry 'bout that.” She swallowed a smothered laugh as she took in his thoroughly disgruntled expression. “I'll put her in the guest room.”

Maura muffled her laughter against Bea's coat as she hurried across the hall. Obviously Colonel Jake McAllister wasn't used to having his seduction scenes interrupted. She deposited Bea on the guest-room bed and closed the door firmly behind her. Taking a deep breath, she walked back across the hall. Any lingering inclination to laugh fled when she entered the bedroom.

Jake was sitting on the side of the bed. He'd used the last few minutes to unlace his boots. While Maura watched, fascinated, he slipped them off, then stood and unzipped the one-piece flight suit. What emerged from that green cocoon took her breath away.

He was long and lean and superbly muscled. A cotton T-shirt stretched across his shoulders, molded itself to his rib cage and trim waist. Her throat tight, Maura ran her gaze down muscled thighs covered with dark, curling hair.

“Come here.”

His husky voice sent shivers dancing down her spine. Slowly, she crossed the room. Jake waited patiently beside the bed, his eyes never leaving her face. When she stopped in front of him, strong, tanned hands reached again for the buttons on her dress.

“Are you protected, Maura?”

She nodded up at him, and his fingers burned against her flesh as he worked the tiny coral buttons, one by one.

Mesmerized, Maura kept her gaze locked on his, seeing the silver flames in his eyes, feeling the backs of his fingers brush against the insides of her breasts. She felt a slow heat begin once more, low in her belly. When Jake's hands pushed the red dress off her shoulders and down her hips, she swallowed convulsively.

Standing in a pool of red, clad only in a lacy half
bra and bikini pants, she felt more exposed than she'd ever felt in her skimpiest bathing suit.

Jake stepped back and took her in. “You're so beautiful.”

In a last, dying wheeze, her stubbornly analytical brain cells refuted his raspy words. They reminded her that her hips were a bit too generous and her breasts on the small side. Then the sensual side kicked into overdrive. Maura saw the naked desire in his eyes, and suddenly she
felt
beautiful. And sexy and wanton. Every spot his eyes touched seemed to heat.

When Jake reached out to brush his fingers across the swelling flesh above her bra, Maura's stomach danced. When his hands lifted first one and then the other breast out of the concealing lace, her breath stopped. And when he bent to take one aching nipple into his mouth, her legs almost collapsed from under her.

She clutched his dark head against her breast to steady herself. His teeth rasped against the tender peak, sending rivulets of fire streaking to her belly. He kneaded the other breast, shaping its soft flesh, tugging gently on the nipple with finger and thumb until Maura thought she would go mad. She must have made some sound, some indication of her need. Jake stopped his assault on her breasts to lay her back on the bed. With steady hands, he unhooked her bra. Maura barely noticed when he disposed of it and her panties. She had time for one deep gulp before he got rid of his shirt and shorts.

Her hungry eyes raked his lean length as he stretched out beside her. She felt a stab of satisfaction at the rigid hardness of the shaft against her thigh. She wasn't the only one throbbing in anticipation.

A sudden urge to shake Jake's control, to change the pace of his deliberate assault on her senses, seized her. Her eyes gleamed in the darkness as she moved one hand slowly down his chest. Her nails tugged at the springy hair, etched a line of quivering flesh. A bolt of primitive satisfaction shot through her when her hand continued its journey down across the flat plane of his stomach. The hard muscles jumped under the sharp, teasing tips of her nails.

When she slid one nail gently, erotically, along the length of his shaft, Jake's control slipped. Considerably. With a savage grunt, he rolled on top of her. His weight pressed her down into the mattress, and one thigh wedged impatiently between her legs.

His mouth over hers, his tongue plunged deep into her throat. Maura returned each thrust, incredibly aroused by the primal rhythm. His hips ground against hers, his hands roamed at will over her body.

When he bent to take an aching breast into his mouth once more, she arched under him. Alternating tiny bites with wet, sucking kisses, Jake set her flesh on fire.

She was hot and wet and all too ready when he fastened his mouth on hers again, and one hand slid between her legs. Maura moaned, far back in her
throat, as his fingers found and teased her damp flesh.

She arched into his hand, using her own to return stroke for stroke, until the fire coiled low in her belly began to spread. As if sensing her gathering climax, Jake nudged her legs even farther apart.

Maura joined eagerly in the wild rhythm he set. Every thrust, every withdrawal, fired her need. Pressure built in slow, thundering waves, until it exploded in a blinding rush of pure, white-hot sensation. She cried out in the darkness, and moments later heard Jake's answering shout, muffled against her neck, as he followed her over the edge.

Later, much later, her senses stopped whirling. Raising heavy, languorous lids, she couldn't resist a teasing smile.

“So that's making love.”

Jake propped himself up on one hand. “That's part of it.”

“You mean there's more?”

“Oh, yes.”

 

Long after midnight, Jake left Maura sleepy and sated, released an indignant Bea from her prison and drove home. He'd called Lisa and given her a number to reach him if necessary, but he still felt uncomfortable leaving her alone in the house all night.

Driving through the soft darkness, he smiled to himself at the vision of the woman he'd just left. Sprawled in exhausted abandon across her mis
matched sheets, her hair spread in wild tangles, she looked well and thoroughly loved.

His smug satisfaction at having pleasured her to the point of exhaustion lasted all of two miles. Bit by bit, satisfaction gave way to the half exasperated, half rueful confusion Maura always engendered in him.

He shook his head in the darkness, remembering her blithe admission she was ready for sex. Well, he'd been ready, too. More than ready. He'd ached with wanting her. But when she looked up at him with her wide hazel eyes and demanded to know the difference between pure, unadulterated sex and making love, something in him had hesitated.

In that instant his desire shifted focus, changed imperceptibly in its intensity. He still wanted her, but suddenly he wanted the whole woman, not just her body. Not that he'd understand the woman who was Maura even when he had her. She was such a bundle of contradictions. Coolly professional on the job, stubbornly individualistic in her personal life, she refused to fit into any neat category. Just when Jake thought he'd pegged her and her motivations, she surprised him once more.

Driving home in the darkness, Jake accepted the truth that had been staring him in the face. He was ready to take the plunge again. Hell, he'd already dived in headfirst. And after the way Maura had blazed in his arms tonight, he was finding the water to be just fine.

 

For Maura, the next weeks passed in a kaleidoscope of passion, play and work. The team threw all their energies into the redesign effort, staying late every night, working weekends. They drew on the resources of the test center to analyze the data from the first shot and rework the mountings for the missile. Pete offered his services once more, insisting he could help with the complex computer work.

Although Maura had most of the analyses already programmed, she knew how much Pete resented being left out of this project. When he pleaded his case to their boss, Maura told Ed she could use the help. Once Pete joined the team, some of her pressure eased and she managed to steal a few evenings to meet Lisa at the cove.

As the days passed, Lisa acquired a healthy tint to her creamy complexion and shed some of her quiet shyness. Maura's lighthearted banter and enthusiasm for their now-shared hobby encouraged the girl's emerging liveliness. More than once Jake found the two of them up to their knees in water, T-shirts sopping wet, sneakers full of mud, exclaiming over a treasured bit of clay.

But it was the nights that seemed to color Maura's existence. Whenever they weren't working late and Lisa had some scheduled activity, Jake would proceed with another lesson in the art of making love.

One night would be wild and hard and fast, another so slow and sensual, Maura thought she'd die
before he lowered his body onto hers and brought them both to a shattering climax. Then there was the night they simply held hands and went wading in the moon-washed bay behind her cottage.

At least, they started out holding hands. Once around the corner of the shoreline, out of sight of the other cottages, they held a lot more. Even now, the memory of making love with tiny waves rippling like silk along her naked body and Jake sliding in and out in an ancient, primitive water dance made her stomach clench.

 

Lisa's sixteenth birthday rolled around right in the middle of the hectic, busy weeks. In honor of the occasion, Maura had decided to do something she rarely did—cook. Unfortunately, she lost track of time and got home from work late.

“Hello, cat.”

Ruffling Bea's fur, she dashed into the bedroom to change. She was scrambling into a tank top and shorts when the doorbell rang. Breathless, she caught it on the third ring.

“Hi, guys! Happy birthday, Lisa.”

“Thanks.”

Holding the door open with one hand, Maura pushed her hair behind her ears with the other. “I'm running a little behind schedule,” she confessed. “You'll have to help with kitchen duty.”

“No problem,” Lisa replied. “Dad's a great cook, you know. He's been giving me lessons.”

“No, I didn't know.” She aimed a small, private smile at Jake. “But I bet he's a great instructor.”

“No complaints so far,” he said with a grin that was all smug male.

Once in the kitchen, Maura pushed a stack of unopened mail and magazines to one end of the counter. “Okay, here's the drill. Lisa, you do the salad, your dad can grill the amberjack and I'll fix the spaghetti.”

“Fish and spaghetti?” Lisa asked with a giggle.

“Why not? You told me they were your favorite foods after pizza. This is your birthday dinner, and you ought to have exactly what you like.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Jake agreed as Maura retrieved the salad fixings from the fridge.

This was the first time he'd ever seen her in a kitchen. He figured it would be an interesting experience.

He was right. While he seasoned the white fillets, she opened an assortment of jars and dumped them into a heavy pot. If she had a recipe for her spaghetti sauce, she didn't bother to use it. She just pulled whatever took her fancy out of the cupboard and added it to the bubbling concoction.

Jake took the foil-wrapped fish out to the patio, only to discover the coals were still in their sack. He laid a neat pattern of briquettes in the rusted grill, fired the charcoal, then went back into the kitchen to warn them the fish might take a while.

“Hmm.” Maura looked down at the pot of boiling
water filled with noodles. “We might have to be a little flexible on the courses tonight. You don't mind, do you, birthday girl?”

Laughing, Lisa shook her head.

 

Hours later, Jake polished off the last of the charbroiled amberjack. It was, he decided, a perfect ending to a perfect meal. So what if the spaghetti sauce tasted like a cross between West Texas chili and tomato stew? Who cared if the garlic bread was slightly charred around the edges? And who was he to protest when Maura brought out a five-layer cake ablaze with candles while the fish was still grilling?

They'd laughed so much and pored over the glossy book of Indian pottery Maura gave Lisa for a birthday gift for so long, that they were hungry again by the time the amberjack was finally ready.

Jake settled back in his chair and watched a light brown and a dark black head bent close together over the glossy edition. Absently his fingers stroked the fine grain on the antique dining table. Littering its polished surface was a huge pot of fresh flowers in a riot of colors, delicate Rosenthal stemware and a collection of heavy crystal candleholders, each one filled with a sputtering candle. These elegant touches accented mismatched china and placemats in varying shapes and sizes. Or maybe it was mix-matched china, Jake thought. He was getting so used to Maura's own eclectic style of decorating that the cheerful patterns and
glowing colors were beginning to take on their own cachet.

Slowly his eyes roved over the small cottage. There were still a few boxes stacked in corners, but many had been cleared out. After Jake had banged his shins the second time on inconvenient obstructions during one of their more playful sessions, Maura had solemnly sworn to clear a path straight from the front door to the bedroom.

A vision of his own home superimposed itself on this tiny, cheerful cottage. Jake had had it built to his own specifications and had it professionally decorated. He'd always considered it airy and spacious. Now the glass and chrome seemed sterile and the high ceilings echoed, even with Lisa's welcome presence.

His house, he decided as he stretched his long legs out under the table, could use just a little of Maura's clutter. And he could use…

A furious snarl interrupted his musing, causing all three diners to jump. Dipping down, Maura peeked under the table.

“Oh, Jake, you must have accidentally kicked Bea.” Her head popped back up. “It
was
accidental, wasn't it?”

“It was,” he drawled. “When that cat and I finally have it out, rest assured you'll have a ringside seat.”