Night Maneuvers - By Jillian Burns Page 0,19

time. Uh, yeah, you didn’t last time.

She tugged her hand from his grasp. “Let’s eat.” Slamming into her house, she headed for her bedroom, put on a bra and tugged on a thick sweatshirt, telling herself the sun was going down and the air was cooling. Then, grabbing the six-pack of her favorite Texas beer from the fridge, she joined Mitch on the porch for pizza.

“So, how’re your rookies?” Mitch finally spoke around a bite.

Alex nodded. “Not bad. Got the usual too-cocky-for-his-own-good recruit.”

Mitch chuckled. “Nothing wrong with having confidence.”

Alex stared at Mitch’s beautiful smile and felt her own mouth lifting at the corners. For a second, they were once again buddies sharing a pizza and repairing a car together like they had plenty of times over the years. Then his smile faded. “Alex…?”

She shot off the porch step. “Better get to work before we lose the daylight.” She wiped pizza grease on the front of her jeans and practically dove for the safety beneath the car.

“Damn it.” She could kick herself. She’d left her tools out there.

“Hurt yourself already?”

“Make yourself useful and hand me that ratchet.”

She heard shuffling and metal clanking and then he was wiggling under the Mustang beside her, his body achingly close. He’d showered and smelled of clean, masculine soap. With the car up on blocks there was plenty of light and room to see clearly. She was acutely aware of the hard planes of his chest under a tight T-shirt. Of his breath hitting her cheek.

This was ridiculous. They’d worked beneath their various cars and trucks dozens of times.

“Here you go.” The ratchet hit her waiting palm with a sure but gentle slap.

“Thanks.” Did her voice sound breathy? Would he assume she was just working hard on loosening the brake pad? She closed her eyes and tried to take in a deep slow breath, tried to force her body to regain some semblance of control.

“Is it being stubborn? Want me to try it?” Mitch asked, his voice low and close to her ear.

What she wanted was to roll over and nuzzle into his broad shoulder and flatten her hand on his taut stomach, and maybe inch her fingers slowly under the waist of his jeans, and farther down to cup him and see if he was as hard as she was wet.

“Hughes?”

Alex jerked and her eyes popped open, the fantasy burst, leaving an evaporating trail of misty longing. “I got it,” she snapped.

“Geez, fine. I’ll work on the rear pads.” He scooted away, leaving her alone with her miserable, throbbing need.

For the first time ever she wished she could just drive down to the Strip, find some anonymous guy and relieve her itch. Because even if Mitch weren’t honor bound to be celibate the next three weeks, there’s no way she’d ever do the mattress mambo with Casanova McCabe. It would kill her to be just another notch on his joystick.

But she was too old for one-night stands and predawn walks of shame. If she started an affair with someone at this point in her life, it would be because she was serious about the guy.

By sheer determination, she shoved her desire down into the deep place inside where it usually resided, and concentrated on brake pads.

Mitch started replacing the rear brakes and they fell into a natural rhythm of passing tools back and forth, and communicating without words, a camaraderie that’d been built over years of having each other’s backs.

A dozen years of trust, companionship and loyalty. No way she’d give that up for a night of sex. Some people might be capable of being friends with benefits. But she knew, way down deep in the truest part of herself, if she ever slept with Mitch, she’d want the whole shebang. His heart, his soul, and, yeah, at this point, his kids.

7

SITUATION REPORT—DAY FOURTEEN: he had no freakin’ idea.

For the second time in a week, Mitch parked his Jeep in front of Hughes’s newly purchased house. He shoved the keys in his pocket as he jumped out. Waves of heat rose from the black pavement. Hughes would pick the hottest day in September for this painting party. She’d better have plenty of beer stocked.

Normally, he’d have been looking forward to a day like this. Barbecue, beer, maybe some foosball and air hockey later.

But even that couldn’t entice him. He didn’t want to be here.

It’d been a strange week. Everything seemed normal between him and Hughes. But something felt…not right. Strained. He’d tried to get their