Night Maneuvers - By Jillian Burns Page 0,30

and attacker positions and they hit the airfield. “During this training sortie, your missiles will not be live,” Alex called out to her class as she strode across the tarmac. “But you will employ evasive maneuvers and deploy your chaff and flares. How close can a missile get before you deploy chaff and flares, Davis?” She’d yet to catch him without a correct answer, but she would eventually.

“Two miles, Captain.”

She nodded, foiled again.

Assigning two students to fly first, she tugged on her helmet and headed for her own F-16.

“Captain, permission to speak freely, sir.” Davis had followed her.

“Go ahead, Davis.” Alex halted to face the rookie.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

Alex blinked. “You know squadron mates aren’t allowed to fraternize, Lieutenant.”

“So, if we were allowed, or I was to get assigned to a different squadron, you’d go out with me?”

“No offense, Lieutenant, but you’re too young for me.”

Davis stepped into her personal space, forcing her to lift her chin and look up at him. “Have you ever had a younger man, Alexandria?”

Crud. She really didn’t need this. “Lieutenant, you’re one more word away from getting reprimanded for insubordination. Step away and return to your squadron.”

“Yes, sir.” Davis saluted perfectly, spun on his heel and marched back to the other trainees waiting to fly.

She might have to do something about him sooner or later.

The rest of the night flew by, literally, teaching combat maneuvers. Not the first time she’d been thankful for her career.

The one thing in her life she hadn’t wrecked yet.

The sun was just coming up Friday morning as Alex slipped her head under the water in her tub and stayed there as long as she could hold her breath. Her body remembered every touch, every kiss, every place where Mitch had devoted his exquisite expertise. Alex cupped her breasts and pressed her palms against her tightening nipples.

She lifted her face out of the water, gasping for a breath. Crud, she’d done it again. The tingling along her skin, the ache between her thighs, just the memory of Mitch’s talented mouth gave her body instant recall. If she hadn’t let him do that, she wouldn’t have to forever live with the memory of what she’d never experience again. Ignorance, in this case, would, indeed, have been bliss.

With a sigh, she stepped out, wrapping a towel around her body, and tiptoed into the kitchen to see what she could scrounge up for dinner. Or breakfast, whichever. Working nights had her stomach confused. She opened the fridge and stood there taking stock of the contents as if she didn’t already know what was there.

She jumped as she heard a car pull into her driveway and the door slam. The kitchen clock read six forty-five. Who would be here at this time of day? She waited, but no one rang the doorbell or knocked.

There’d been a string of burglaries in the neighborhood the past month. If she remembered correctly, they’d all taken place in the early morning after folks went to work. Just like now. And her firearm was locked in its safety box in the closet. Alex grabbed the largest knife from her drawer and crept toward the front window.

Slowly, she pulled back the curtain and peeked out.

What the… Mitch?

He looked like Mitch, and yet he didn’t. Instead of his usual nonchalant stance, he stood ramrod straight on her front porch, glaring at the front door with his fists clenched at his sides. The Mitch she knew was always impeccably dressed, in uniform or out. This morning Mitch looked haggard, unshaved, his T-shirt was stained and wrinkled, and…he was barefoot?

She turned and set the knife on her sofa table and when she peeked around the curtains again his gaze locked with hers. His eyes burned with need. She shivered as a frisson of lust shot through her.

His gaze dropped to her body and his eyes widened.

Whoa. She was still wrapped in the bath towel. Uselessly, she crossed an arm over her chest and stepped back.

He pounded on the door. “Alex.”

She froze, unable to move. She shouldn’t let him in. The way he was looking at her. And the way she was feeling right now. She wasn’t naive. She knew where things would probably go. And if they did make love?

If she opened that door, she had a feeling things would never be the same. Not only would he be breaking his word to Jackson, but their friendship would be irrevocably changed.

And yet, wasn’t it already? They weren’t speaking. There was an