Night Maneuvers - By Jillian Burns Page 0,28

a condom. He’d removed the ones from his wallet for the duration. “Uh, I’ll be right back.” He shot up and made it to his bathroom medicine cabinet and back to Alex in record time.

But she was stepping into her jeans. She met his gaze and her expression wasn’t encouraging. Though her eyes were still glazed with passion, her brows were creased in a frown and the soft lines of her mouth crumpled.

Sliding an arm around her waist, he gently combed the hair away from her beautiful face. “Hey.” He bent to press gentle kisses across her freckled nose, her forehead, her chin and down her throat. “Don’t overthink this, okay?”

“No, Mitch.” She shrugged out of his grasp and zipped her jeans. “What about your thirty days? You gave your word to Jackson.”

He shivered. His body screamed for release. “But I want you, Alex.” After years of one-night stands, of dealing with women who wanted more than he could give or wanted to play games. Or they wanted the fantasy. The guy in the uniform. The hero fighter pilot. He was so goddamn tired of coming home bored, or worse, depressed.

Hughes wasn’t like that. She knew him better than anyone, and here she was, letting him kiss his way along her neck. He couldn’t believe she wanted him. Just Mitch.

She shook her head. “The minute it’s over, you’ll regret breaking your word. I know you, Mitch.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mitch. So sorry.” She started gathering up her shoes.

“No, you’re right.” He shuddered and went to get a shirt for himself. When he returned to his living room, Alex was hunkered down tying her shoes.

She straightened and met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come over here.” Spinning, she headed for the door.

For the second time that night he flattened his palm on the door to prevent her leaving. “Why did you?”

She wouldn’t look at him. And she was trembling. “Honest answer, Mitch.” Keeping her grip on the doorknob and her gaze on his hand. “If I’d been dating the guy for over a year, and you met him and liked him, then would you be happy for me to marry him?”

Nausea rose in his stomach. She was serious. After what they’d just shared? But she’d obviously been thinking about this. The guy must’ve proposed. And she wanted Mitch’s blessing.

Then all the pieces finally clicked into place. The way she’d been acting when she first got here. She’d come over here to tell him something. Pressure built up in his chest. She was getting married. And things would never be the same. He’d lose his best friend. This D.C. SEAL sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate his wife hanging out at the officers’ club drinking beer and playing pool with the guys. With Mitch.

But she was his best friend. And she thought marrying this guy would make her happy. How could he not want that?

“I guess, if he makes you happy, Hughes. Then, yeah, I wish you all the best.” He almost choked on the words. But he meant them. He wanted her happiness. So, he made himself smile. “Even though I’d lose my wingman.”

She didn’t return his smile as he’d expected. “I don’t want to lose you either, Mitch,” she whispered, then yanked open the door and raced away.

He swallowed, something feeling not quite right. If she was serious about marrying this guy, then what had tonight been to her? Getting it out of her system before she tied the knot? A quick check to see who was better? Fury shot through him. He’d never understand women.

9

SITUATION REPORT—DAY TWENTY-FOUR: pathetic.

“What the hell are you doing out here, McCabe?” Lieutenant Colonel Grady appeared at Mitch’s Jeep’s window.

Good question. What was he doing parked on the training airfield at this time of night? Morning, really. Alex was just returning from a sortie. He’d seen her Falcon land minutes ago. Even from this distance he’d recognize that Texas-shaped Texas flag she’d painted on the aircraft’s nose.

Mitch faced his superior, and his friend. “Just watching the new trainees practicing their night maneuvers, sir.” Yeah, right.

Grady’s gaze darted to the bottle of Jim Beam in Mitch’s passenger seat. “Have you been drinking?”

McCabe glanced at the bottle and then back at Grady. “Not yet.”

When he’d picked up the booze earlier, he’d planned to go home and drink until he could sleep. But he’d ended up here instead.

His insomnia hadn’t improved any since Alex left Saturday night. In fact, it’d gotten worse. Couldn’t concentrate.