Fake Boyfriend - Miley Maine Page 0,6

go.

I nodded. I watched people too, but not for fun.

She spread cream cheese all over her bagel, and I watched the graceful movements of her hand while she held the knife, and my body reacted. I wouldn’t mind having her hands on me.

Was I losing it? Had I gotten an undiagnosed head injury in Romania? I liked women. I always had. But I’d never gotten hard over something so mundane. Hoping for a distraction, I bit into my apple.

And then out of the blue, she asked, “Which branch of the military do you serve in?”

I kept chewing my apple, trying not to look startled. I wasn’t expecting that question. I wasn’t going to lie to her, although I gave as little details as possible. “Army. How’d you know?” I’d had plenty of people ask me, but most were other soldiers who said they recognized the body language, or some mannerism I had.

“I saw your ID when we were in line.”

Well hell. Apparently I wasn’t very discreet. Not that it mattered. Undercover missions weren’t part of my job, so it didn’t matter who knew.

“Active duty?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Thank you for your service,” she said. Her sunny smile faded. “My cousin was killed in Iraq. He was a doctor in the Army. We didn’t think he’d be in danger. But you know how it is.”

I did know how it was. And I never knew what to say to a grieving family member. Everything seemed inadequate. “I’m sorry.”

“My uncle is in the military too. He’s an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel. He’s serving at the Pentagon.”

Pentagon? That was probably a signal to me to stay the hell away. The last thing I needed was her obviously well-connected family pissed off at a thirty-six year old soldier for corrupting their baby.

“Time for us to go,” I said, grabbing our paper trash and stuffing it into the trash can.

I picked up Loren’s camera bag and started walking.

“You walk too fast,” she said.

“You do not want to miss your flight. It’s a massive pain in the ass.” I liked her. A lot. But she was twenty-two, had a bunch of high-ranking military family members, and seemed way too innocent to be near me.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Once we arrived at our gate, Loren didn’t even have time to sit down in one of the hard plastic chairs before the loudspeaker popped on. The intercom crackled as the airline attendant spoke. “We are now boarding first class.”

“That’s me,” Loren said.

Of course. She was in first class. So I really wouldn't be seeing her again.

She put her hand on my arm. The spot where her small hand landed on my skin felt like flames licking my skin. I’d been touched hundreds of times. Why did her hand feel any different?

“Thank you again,” she said. “I really do appreciate it. If you ever want to see my photography blog, my last name is Stevens.”

“I’ll look you up,” I said.

I watched her walk away. Most recent graduates didn’t have the money to fly first class. The ones that did usually had rich parents, but they’d flown hundreds of times. She’d claimed this wasn’t her first time to fly, but I doubted she was telling the truth.

That didn’t stop me from watching her. There was no harm. She’d be safely tucked away in the front of the plane, and I’d wedge myself into a tiny seat, and I’d never see her again.

Chapter Four

Loren

“Enjoy your flight,” the attendant said as I neared the boarding area.

Face flushed, I could only nod at her.

I’d just met the hottest man I’d ever seen in my life, and I had made a total and complete mess of myself.

I covered my face with my hand. I’d considered myself a seasoned traveler. But there was a world of difference between flying on a private plane where I walked onto the tarmac and hopped on, without giving what I’d packed a second thought.

Was it just last week that I’d chided my mom and dad for treating me like a baby? And then I’d shown up at the Atlanta airport, an international hub with thousands of people following the regulations, and I’d shown just how little I knew about regular life.

Why did it have to be right in front of Jackson?

I supposed it didn’t matter too much. Even if he was stationed at Fort Benning for years, I’d probably never see him again.

I’d always had a thing for older men, although I’d never pursued one. And one had certainly never pursued