by Tracy Brody
“You better not change those, honey,” Mack cautioned when Darcy flipped switches.
“It’s fine. She won’t hurt anything, and she won’t be firing any live ammo,” Kristie assured them with a wink. Darcy pressed a button on what Kristie explained was the cyclic, or stick, which controlled lift.
Her lilting voice wrapped around him, drawing him in. Her knowledge of all aspects of the aircraft filled him with a deeper sense of awe and respect. He admired her profile as she continued to hit the highlights, laughing when Darcy scooted to the edge of the seat and strained to reach the pedals.
The crew and another pilot appeared a few minutes later to perform the preflight inspection while Kristie continued to indulge the girls.
She handed Amber her helmet. “Here.”
“It’s heavy.” Amber turned it over in her hands.
“That’s for protection. The equipment that allows me to talk to headquarters, my crew, and the troops on the ground is built into the helmet, too. Try it on.”
“I want a turn!” Darcy exclaimed before Amber got it on.
“Patience, monkey. Give Amber a minute first,” Mack said. The girls enjoying the outing and Kristie’s comfort level with them was a good sign.
Kristie leaned back. “Powell. Can we borrow your helmet?”
The younger pilot held his helmet out to Mack. It did weigh more than expected. When he helped Darcy put it on, her head bobbed and rolled under the weight. Her small pixie face was dwarfed by the gray Kevlar helmet. She gripped the stick with both hands, pushing it forward. The helmet slid down, partially covering her eyes.
He pulled his phone from his back pocket and took several pictures of the girls in the cockpit, managing to get Kristie in a couple before she climbed out.
“Let me get pictures of you with the girls,” she offered.
He posed with Darcy, then walked around to the other side and got some with Amber. Once the girls reluctantly clambered out, he snapped a few more pictures of them posing in front of the Black Hawk. He debated asking a crew member to take one of the four of them together, but that might raise questions.
The girls took off the helmets and climbed back inside the body of the aircraft while the crew finished their inspection.
“Daddy, get a picture,” Darcy requested.
He took a picture of them peeking out the door gunner’s window. He leaned in past Kristie, looking over her shoulder where the girls settled into seats—right where Judge Vallejo’s daughter had sat wedged between his teammates on their flight out of the jungle. A shudder shook his upper body. What would it take to shut Herrera down for good?
“Time to get out and watch Miss Kristie fly,” Mack coaxed when Powell retrieved his flight helmet and checked his watch. “Where do you want us?”
“Off the tarmac would be good. Don’t want to blow the girls away.” She extended a hand to help Darcy hop down.
The way her affectionate smile lingered on Darcy in no way lined up with any images of a wicked stepmother. Yeah, he’d jumped ahead, but everything about Kristie punched the right buttons and flipped the right switches.
“Thanks for the tour,” he said.
“No problem. I enjoyed showing off.” She shifted her gaze between the girls, then to him. Seconds passed.
Amber cleared her throat, breaking the silence.
“See ya later.” He put his hands on the girls’ shoulders, giving each a squeeze.
Darcy got the hint. “Thank you, Miss Kristie. This was the best!” Then Amber thanked her, too.
“Fly safe,” Mack chimed in.
“Is it dangerous?” Darcy’s voice held a hint of panic.
“Flying is safer than driving a car,” Kristie assured her.
“Good,” Darcy stated authoritatively, her head bobbing.
His daughter’s concern for Kristie hit Mack right between the eyes. Even at their young ages, his daughters understood danger. Had friends who’d lost parents during deployments.
Kristie’s job was safer than his, but there were no guarantees nothing would happen to her. The reality that something could happen to Kristie struck him like a sucker punch. Gave him a first-hand perspective of how she felt about his job after losing her husband. Of Rochelle’s fears. He didn’t like the boot being on the other foot.
Minutes later, the blades chopped the air and whipped the girls’ hair into a frenzied dance. Even over the noise, he heard Darcy exclaim when the aircraft began a slow ascent. It rotated to face them. Kristie waved, and Darcy enthusiastically waved back. Amber briefly lifted a hand.
“This is so cool.” Darcy’s body vibrated with excitement as the aircraft rose higher.
“Can we go now?” Amber asked once it had flown into the distance.
“You hungry?”
“Kind of.”
Darcy took hold of his hand as they walked back to his truck. “I’m going to fly helicopters when I get big, too.”
“Last week, you wanted to be an animal doctor, and before that, a country singer.” Amber rolled her eyes.
“Will Huffman said I’d have to be a doctor for snakes and lizards, but I don’t want to do that. I can sing when I’m not flying.” Ignoring her sister’s negativity, Darcy skipped the last few steps to the truck.
“You can be anything you want, monkey. Though you’ll probably have to limit it to less than five things at a time.” How many could he manage? Operator. Dad. Lover. Husband?
Twenty-Eight
Kristie crossed the street to Mack’s front door. Sunday night had been a long time coming. Tonight, eager anticipation, not fear, caused her heart to pound. She enjoyed Mack and the girls’ visit to the airfield as much as they appeared to. Memories of Amber and Darcy’s smiling faces spread warmth through her chest.
And there was Mack, opening the door even before she reached the stoop.
“About time.” His appraisal made that warmth spread to other, more feminine parts of her body.
“Thought you dropped off the girls at twenty hundred.”
“It’s almost twenty-one hundred.” One side of his mouth rose as he closed the front door. “I’ve been waiting for over half an hour.”
She didn’t admit she’d waited until dark to reduce the risk of the neighbors seeing her go into his house. “What did the girls say about the Black Hawks?”
“Darcy’s starting flight training with you next week.” He rested his hands on her hips, pulling her closer. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she swallowed.
“And Amber?”
“She forwarded the pictures I took to all her friends. Was talking about how many ‘likes’ and comments she hoped they’d get. Guess that’s what’s important to kids these days.”
“She’s still got time to decide. She might join the Air Force to fly jets instead.”
“I was thinking, after the other day, we could do dinner together next time the girls are here.” Something an awful lot like hope played across his face.
“I would love that. Really, I would, but—”
“No. Not but.”
It was tempting, but too soon? The girls wouldn’t understand why they couldn’t say anything. “I’m going down to Savannah to pack up my house then. Figured I’d schedule it when you had the girls.”
“O-kay.” He sounded somewhat appeased. “We could do a cookout with the Lundgrens. They wouldn’t think twice about that.”
“That sounds like a great plan.” She accepted his compromise and slid her right hand over his collarbone and around to his neck, tilting her head in invitation when he pulled her body against his.
Her lips parted, and her tongue met his. Cinnamon toothpaste masked whatever he’d had for dinner. His body was solid, warm, and being molded against him was like heaven. His hips rocked forward, his arousal pressing against her. She leaned into him, sparking the desire consuming her mind and body.
He edged her backward toward the couch. She cradled his head, her mouth never leaving his. Her knees nearly buckl
ed when he tugged her shirt free from her jeans. His hands skimmed her sides as he pulled the shirt up. She lifted her arms, allowing him to ease the shirt over her head. His eyes raked over her body, making her glad she’d splurged on some new—sexier—lingerie this weekend.
She reciprocated, removing his shirt and dropping it to the floor. Mack’s hands stroked her arms and roamed over her back. He lowered his mouth to her neck, one of her favorite spots. She wanted more of him—much more.
“Last time we were right about here, weren’t we talking about whipped cream?” he said between kisses, his voice husky.
“I don’t recall that.” Her body temperature shot up. Why had she let that thought slip out?
“Really?” His gruff, sexy chuckle definitely counted as foreplay.
She drew in a ragged breath before nipping his earlobe. He was making her crazy. She loved the feel of skin against skin. Oh, to hell with waiting. She reached for his belt buckle.
Mack sucked in a breath, and with a hint of a grin, lifted his head. He grasped her hands, keeping control of the situation. She stared back, the smoldering in her heart surely reaching her eyes.
He gestured her to the bedroom with a jerk of his head. The covers were turned down, and a can of whipped cream and bottle of chocolate syrup sat on the nightstand. She laughed self-consciously and took a hesitant step back. Oh, geez. What had she been thinking? “We’d make a mess.”
Mack maintained a loose hold on her. “I have a washing machine. And a shower.”
Did she trust he wanted more than sex from her? Yeah, especially after the other night. In her experience, missionary position tended not to suffice for the living-on-the-edge guys in Mack’s line of work. And she certainly had been adventurous in trying things with Eric. Was it too soon, though? Setting the bar too high? Her brain said slow down, but her body said: oh, hell, yes. Go for it.
She surrendered, giving Mack a slight nod.
His hand slid up to unclasp her bra. He nuzzled her neck as he peeled it off, taking full advantage to fondle both breasts. She touched him, too. Let her hands indulge in the pleasure of his muscled arms and strong back.
His hands glided down her sides at a glacial pace, then he toyed with the button on her shorts, taking forever to undo it and even longer to pull down the zipper. With agonizing slowness, he eased the shorts down her hips. Unable to refrain any longer, her hands gripped his biceps, kneading the solid flesh.
He hauled her body to his and ground his hips against hers.
Mack nibbled her earlobe before moving back to her neck. Now that she was naked, he guided her to lay on the bed. His tongue swirled over her right breast while he teased the other with his free hand. This man knew just how to make her body thrum with delicious need.
He shifted and knelt next to her, picking up the chocolate syrup. He squeezed a few drops on his wrist, then licked it off before running a thin line up his index finger, extending it to her. She closed her lips around his finger, sliding her tongue along the underside and sucking off the chocolate.
“You’re killing me—but it’s so gonna be worth it,” he said.
Killing him? That was hardly her intent.
He stared into her eyes as he dripped syrup onto her breast. “Not too hot?”
She bit on her lower lip. “Perfect.” She wanted it hot. Them. Not the syrup.
He took his time tasting and licking her clean before he drizzled more chocolate over her stomach.
“I have to say, I really like the belly button ring.” His finger toyed with it.
She sucked in her breath when he added a cold squirt of whipped cream around her navel. The cold quickly changed to heat as he trailed his tongue down her stomach. He left her wanting more after he pressed a kiss at the juncture of her leg and pelvis.
“More,” she pleaded with a rise of her hips when, instead, he crossed to her left thigh and worked his way to her knee.
His hands ran up the inside of her thighs, spreading her legs. He picked up a tube from the nightstand and squirted a dab of lotion onto his thumb. As soon as he rubbed it on her, she began to tingle in all the right places. He added a drizzle of chocolate syrup before topping it with whipped cream.
She practically panted with prolonged deprivation. Then his tongue was there. Teasing, taunting, and pleasuring with no hesitation or inhibition. He swirled pressure in just the right spots to make her hips rise higher. Fingers replaced his tongue, going deeper and spreading her in the perfect balance of pain and pleasure.
She sucked in air in rapid gasps, her body trembling on the brink. The sensations came together like a symphony’s final crescendo when his tongue returned to deliver the last firm strokes, pushing her into the abyss. Her leg muscles tightened in anticipation, and her body jolted from the intensity.
Her head fell back against the pillow, her body physically spent by the time she stopped clenching from the multiple waves of orgasm.
Mack propped himself on an elbow before he ran a finger down her side. She shivered and pushed his hand aside when it tickled.
“You have chocolate on your face.” And traces of whipped cream.
He grinned. “Mmm, best chocolate sundae ever.”
“It was. And you’re making me hungry.”
He gave a throaty chuckle in response to her innuendo.
“Does that mean I get to reciprocate after I have a minute to recuperate?”
“Take as long as you need,” he assured her in an oh-so-gracious, I’m-getting-a-prize way.
Funny how she’d gone two years without sex, and now ten days without Mack had seemed an interminably long time.
Twenty-Nine
Kristie drove down her old street in Savannah, waving to the Hincheys as her neighbors worked in their yard. She backed her car in the drive and studied the leggy pansies she’d planted around the mailbox. Maybe the next renters would put in fresh flowers for summer.
She unlocked the front door of her rental house, then slowly pushed it open. Stepping into the house after the past few weeks in Fayetteville was different than coming home after her deployment. It’d felt less alone then since her family had been here with her.
Each footfall of her sandals on the laminate flooring echoed softly on her way to the bedroom to stow her suitcase. She’d lived so many places over the years, moving from base to base with first her dad’s career and then her own. Even though she and Eric didn’t own this house, it felt more like home than any other place, because it had been theirs together.
She loved Savannah, but it was time to move on. Things with Mack made it easier to let go—not that there were any guarantees with him.
For the next two hours, she packed up irreplaceable items she didn’t want going into storage. Then came the hard part—Eric’s clothes. She bagged the socks, underwear, and anything worn or stained, then separated what she could donate, setting aside a few things she’d keep. It’s not like they had children who might someday want to wear his old uniforms or shirts.
She got her keys to unlock the back door, so she could put the bags in the trash before running to Screamin’ Mimi’s to get her favorite Stromboli for the last time in the foreseeable future.
When she turned the key in the deadbolt, there was no resistance. No click. She flipped it back and forth, confirming it hadn’t been locked.
She retraced her steps. No. She hadn’t been out the back door since she’d gotten here a few hours ago. Had she left for Fayetteville in such a hurry that she’d left it unlocked all this time? Maybe. Impossible to remember now, but it didn’t feel right.
Even though the knob was locked, after putting the bags in the bins, she looked around the house. Nothing seemed out of place or missing. Not that she had much of value.
The TV was still there. Of course, it would take two people to carry that bad boy out. She checked her jewelry box. Her diamond ring was back at the Lundgrens’, and from what she could tell, everything was here. The only thing that made sense was she left the de
adbolt unlocked. Nothing happened. No big deal.
The movers showed up right on time the next morning. Once they started packing, Kristie loaded her car with the boxes she didn’t want the movers taking.
A familiar voice called her name at the same time two dogs began barking. She waited as her neighbor Marcela walked her dogs up the street where the occasional palmetto tree graced a front yard, Spanish moss dripped from the live oaks, and the tall pines provided needed shade on warm spring and summer days like today.
“Hey, guys, you know me.” Kristie bent to pet Pickles and Charlie. They stopped barking long enough to sniff her before they circled her and resumed barking as usual.
“I’m sad you’re leaving.” Marcela pouted at the moving truck, then Kristie.
“Military life. You know how it goes with a change of duty stations.” She straightened. “I’ve got to clean out the fridge, but since I’m staying with friends a while longer, I’m not taking anything. If you want some condiments, dressings, and frozen chicken breasts, come on over. I hate to throw them out.”
“Since you put it that way, let me put Pickles and Charlie up. They’ll go bonkers with the movers in the house. Be over in a minute.”
Kristie went back inside and started to unload the refrigerator’s contents onto the counter.
“It’s me,” Marcela sang out and waltzed into the kitchen.
“Take whatever you want. There’re bags in the pantry.”
“I hope you’ll get back down to visit sometime.”
“I’ll try. I love this area and have lots of friends here.” She winked at Marcela.
“And someone special?”
“What do you mean?”
“The flowers. Who’s the guy?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Someone tried to deliver flowers here not long after you went to Fayetteville. A nice-sized arrangement, too.”
She couldn’t think of a soul who’d send her flowers. Not here. Not then.