Night Maneuvers - By Jillian Burns Page 0,40

down her cheek. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are.” Now that her anger had dissipated, the adrenaline left her shaking. Determined to get out of here before he saw her hands trembling, she snatched her keys off the sofa and headed for the door. Moving fast, he caught her by the shoulders.

Slowly, he lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips across hers. “Can I come over after work tonight?”

Alex’s heart squeezed. She wanted to howl her frustration to the world. Being with him was nothing short of emotional suicide. And despite her recent decisions, she didn’t have a death wish. No. She’d tell him no and rip off the bandage all at once. “Okay.”

He grinned and took her mouth in a deep possessive kiss.

Okay? She was pathetic. She shouldn’t be letting him kiss her.

“I have some time before I have to be at work,” he mumbled as his lips trailed down her jaw to her neck. His hand crept under her shirt and cupped her breast and his hot palm kneading her flesh drove all rational thought away. His other hand cupped her butt and lifted her, walking to his sofa. And she didn’t fight him.

So, she was officially an addict, avoiding reality. Craving one more hit, one more day of Mitch. Like a drug she never should’ve tried in the first place. He made her weak. He made her lose all sense of reason. But she was hooked.

Was there such a thing as a Mitch McCabe rehab?

12

SITUATION REPORT: sucker punched by girlfriend. Wait…girlfriend?

“Hey, if it isn’t Monk-man McCabe!” Sanders taunted as Mitch got in line to grab a sandwich at the commissary.

Mitch gritted his teeth, smiled and nodded. Let the guy have his fun. Mitch wasn’t about to risk his promotion.

“Keep up, Sanders.” Grady joined the lunch line. “His thirty days were over yesterday.”

“Is that so?” Sanders narrowed his eyes, a sly look on his face. “What? No Hughes around to defend you today, McCabe?”

“Why? You miss getting your ass handed to you, Sanders?”

Sanders scowled. “Heard she’s on night maneuvers.” He leaned in. “With Rooster in her class, I bet she’s maneuvering every night.”

Mitch gritted his teeth. His hands curled into fists. Then he raised his brows and snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s right. You’d know about Hughes’s maneuvering, wouldn’t you? How is your foot doing, by the way?”

Sanders lost his smile. Mitch chuckled all the way back to his office. Good thing Hughes hadn’t been with him. She’d have cleaned poor Sanders’s clock.

A warmth grew in his chest thinking about her. About how she’d put up with Sanders’s groping that night, but the minute the guy insulted Mitch, she’d lost it. Nobody had ever fought for him before. Or believed in him like she did. Even this morning, she’d been fighting for him.

When Alex wanted something, she went after it, no holds barred. And pity the fool who got in her way, which he had. Most women who didn’t get called for three days would’ve written him off, or maybe called to whine and complain.

Even Luanne, after they’d been married a few months, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and hear her crying in the bathroom. He’d get up and ask her what was wrong, and she’d say, “Nothing.”

How could you fight nothing? How could you solve the “nothing” problem?

He’d bet his flight suit he’d never have that problem with Alex. He wouldn’t even have to ask. She’d come out and tell him what the problem was, and probably tell him what he could do about it, too.

He grinned just thinking about her, and as soon as he got off, he raced for her house, thinking about the incredible makeup sex they could have.

So much that he didn’t notice the flashing lights behind him at first.

Crap. Of all the times to get stopped for speeding.

He pulled over and got out his license and proof of insurance. From his side mirror he saw the cop striding toward him. As the officer reached his Jeep’s open side and removed his sunglasses, Mitch looked up.

“Jackson?” Mitch hadn’t yet told his ex-Air Force buddy he owed him a forfeit.

“You aware you were smiling, McCabe?”

“Yeah, I kno— Smiling? You mean speeding.”

“No, but—” he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his ticket book “—I can write you a ticket if—”

“No, that’s okay.”

“I pulled you over to inform you your thirty days are officially over. But I can see from your cocky grin you already knew that.”

“Yeah, about that. I,