“Smart, Nick. Really smart.” Sighing again, she reached for the blasted phone.
Andrea was right: Adams wanted to handle it immediately, and his mood wasn’t improved by the fact that he’d just climbed into bed when Andrea rousted him out. She had to escort Wilson and Hart over to Colonel Adams’s office and wait while he questioned them. Then they had to wait again while he radioed the relief crew, who were still out in their hole somewhere in the barren reaches of wintry North Dakota, to confirm the cops’ story. Once he had the confirmation, Adams asked Andrea to send out a truck to pick up Lieutenants Cantrell and Morrell from their nice warm beds so they could personally explain their actions.
Though it was well past three when Andrea at last tumbled into bed, sleep stubbornly eluded her. She told herself she was just keyed up from all the activity and excitement, but some part of her acknowledged that she was more frustrated than excited. The simple fact was that she’d been enjoying herself immensely at the mall with Dare MacLendon. For the first time ever, she resented the intrusion of her job into her private time.
What might have happened if the evening had drawn to a normal close?
Aw, cut it out! she told herself, and pounded her pillow into a more comfortable shape. She’d avoided any entanglements of that kind in favor of her career for a long time now. Besides, nothing could or would happen, given that Dare was her commanding officer. It wasn’t that such things were forbidden by regulation, because they weren’t. Andrea was acutely conscious, however, of how a relationship with her commanding officer would appear. A woman simply couldn’t afford such appearances.
But a woman could, and did, lie in the dark and wonder what it would feel like to be held by a certain pair of strong arms against the warmth and strength of a certain body. And she could wonder just how much a person was supposed to sacrifice for a career.
By Monday morning the entire base was buzzing about the missile crew that had abandoned its post and was facing a general court martial. A good month for the legal business, Andrea thought glumly as she trudged her way over to the Bomb Wing for the Monday morning staff meeting. The Judge Advocate General’s corps, or JAG, were probably tap-dancing with delight. If so, the lawyers were the only ones. It never ceased to amaze her how drastically a whole life could be altered by one moment of foolishness. It also never ceased to amaze her how fast gossip could pass among fifteen thousand people. Military communications should only be as effective as the base grapevine.
The officers around the conference table all sprang to attention when MacLendon entered the room. He looked gorgeous again, Andrea thought sourly, as she watched him make his way to the head of the table. This morning he wore the long-sleeved light blue shirt with dark blue shoulder tabs and necktie, and there was no question in Andrea’s mind that he’d had that shirt specially made to fit his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Nobody else in the room had a fit like that. Of course, nobody else had quite his build, either.
As she’d expected, her unit’s conduct in the affair of the missile crew was the first item on MacLendon’s agenda. His icy blue eyes showed no hint of warmth as he questioned her closely about how events had unfolded and how she had handled them. And finally he asked the question she’d been dreading.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this Friday night, as soon as you knew what was happening, Captain?”
Her chin lifted. “When I had ascertained the facts in the matter, sir, Colonel Adams was the commander most directly involved and the one who most immediately needed to be notified. As soon as that was taken care of, I wrote a report, which was on your desk by 0830 Saturday morning, detailing the conduct of my troops and my actions. I did not imagine that a couple of Article Fifteens needed your immediate attention.”
Dare leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin, never taking his eyes from her. Not another soul at the table stirred, sensing a confrontation.
“I suppose,” Dare said presently, “that Colonel Houlihan would have agreed with you?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“Ordinarily I would agree that an Article Fifteen doesn’t need my immediate attention. In this case, however, something greater was involved, namely the possible compromise of the launch codes and the related conduct of airmen under my command. I don’t expect to hear about every brawl and AWOL, but a matter of this nature should be brought to my attention immediately.”
“Very well, sir.” Her gaze met his steadily and unwaveringly.
Dare nodded. “Other than this very minor complaint,” he continued more pleasantly, “I commend your handling of the matter, Captain. Now, on to other matters.”
For the next half hour MacLendon listened to reports and fielded complaints from his staff. Most of the matters under discussion had little to do with Andrea, so she listened with only half an ear, the rest of her longing for an end to this meeting so she could get back to her own office and away from Dare’s disturbing presence. Why the devil had she been stupid enough to agree to spend Thanksgiving with him?
It was with relief that she heard her radio squawk. Since the squadron knew where she was, it must be urgent.
“Alpha Tango Niner, this is Bravo One, do you read?”
Andrea looked up at Dare. “By your leave, sir?”
“Go ahead, Burke.”
She started to rise to leave the room, but MacLendon motioned her to remain, so she answered the call.
“Bravo One, this is Alpha Tango Niner, go ahead.”
“Alpha Tango Niner, we have an electronic security system failure—repeat, system failure—at Delta Three Zulu.”
“Roger, Bravo One. Who’s out there? Over.”
“Sergeant Nickerson, ma’am. When the call came in he took a squad out. Over.”
“Tell Nick I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Alpha Tango Niner out.”
Andrea looked up at Dare. “With your permission, sir.”
“This needs your immediate attention?”
“Sergeant Nickerson evidently thinks so, sir.”
“Evidently. Go ahead, but this time I want a report as soon as you know what’s happened.”
“Yes, sir.” Steaming and barely able to conceal it, Andrea hurried from the room. Damn the man! she thought. Houlihan had trusted her enough to handle things her own way. Why did MacLendon have to be so damn nosy? Nosy and attractive. The combination was going to drive her out of her mind. Maybe she ought to put in for a new assignment at a base far, far away. Like maybe the moon.
By the time she reached Nickerson, who was on the far side of the airfield alongside the perimeter fence that separated the flight-line controlled area from acres of open land, Andrea had decided Alisdair MacLendon was a jinx. In the entire two years she’d commanded this squadron, she hadn’t had as many major problems as she’d had in the weeks since Dare arrived. Just when she didn’t need a nosy CO, she had one. There had to be some kind of cosmic connection there.
“What’s up, Nick?” she asked the master sergeant as she climbed out of her truck.
The lines in Nick’s face deepened. “Did you get roasted?”
“Only as much as I expected. What’s wrong now?”
“You’re feeling that way, too? Well, ma’am, somebody cut the fence.”
“Last night?” Andrea scanned the chain-link fence but couldn’t see the damage. “Where?”
“That’s the thing, ma’am. Whoever did it is planning to come back. He fixed it so it wouldn’t show, and none of the pressure sensors, trip wires or infrared detectors were triggered at any time, so we have to assume he didn’t try to go any farther.”
Andrea cursed under her breath and followed Nickerson to the fence, where he showed her the careful cuts in the links and the way they’d been wrapped with lead wire so the weight of the fence didn’t pull the links apart, exposing the hole.
“If Lattimer hadn’t been paying close attention,” Nick said, “he’d never have spotted this. Frankly, this could have been here a while.” Pulling h
is hat from his head, he ran his fingers through his hair and peered up at the barbed wire that topped the fence.
The fence wasn’t electrified, because its purpose was not so much to keep an intruder out as to prevent anyone from stumbling accidentally onto the carpet of sensors that lay beyond, and to leave physical evidence if someone crossed the boundary. Security experts had long ago realized that it was impossible to stop a skilled, determined intruder. What had to be avoided at all costs was the possibility that an intruder could gain access and leave no sign of his presence. As long as the intrusion could be detected, the damage could be controlled.
“I don’t believe this,” Andrea muttered. “I absolutely don’t believe this.” Looking past the fence to the airfield where the B-52s stood in their hulking line, she shook her head. “Why would anybody want to get in there?” The question was purely rhetorical; offhand she could think of twenty or so reasons ranging from sabotage to intelligence collection to sheer curiosity.
“Unless we’ve become a terrorist target, I can’t imagine,” was Nick’s sarcastic response.
“Gee, Nick, what a great thought.”
He gave her a humorless half smile. “You got a better one, Captain?”
“I wish I did. Kids. I like the idea of kids playing a stupid game.”
“Me, too. I ain’t buying it.”
“Me either.” Andrea gave in and rubbed her neck. “Kids wouldn’t have wired up the cuts that way. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going to spend the rest of my life standing on Colonel MacLendon’s carpet trying to explain things. Hellfire. Now I’ve got to recommend that he make sure those planes are checked out real good. He’s going to love this!”
“About as much as you do, ma’am.”
“Well, post a couple of sentries out here, get somebody out to repair the fence, and send a squad to check the rest of the perimeter.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Andrea, already on her way to the truck, looked back. “And, Nick, say a prayer that that cut isn’t just a decoy.”
Nick’s faint smile faded. “Gee, Captain, what a great thought.”
“Yes, I think so, too.”
Thirty minutes later, Andrea stood at rigid attention on the carpet in front of MacLendon’s desk and watched the frown form on his rugged face as she explained what Nick had found. When she fell silent, Dare remained silent, too, so long that she began to get uneasy.
Finally he stirred and waved a hand. “Sit, down, Andrea. Is life here always this exciting?”
“Only the last few weeks,” she replied as she perched on the edge of a straight-backed metal chair.
“Well, we’re batting close to a thousand, aren’t we.”
Relieved that he was shouldering the responsibility along with her, rather than trying to place blame somewhere, Andrea nodded. “Yes, sir, it seems that way.”
“Well, I’ll send the maintenance crews out to look for anything suspicious, and I guess I’d better cancel the generation scheduled for this afternoon.”
A generation was an exercise when the entire bomber fleet took off at thirty-second intervals, as they would have to in time of alert. Andrea always found it impressive.
“I think that would be wise,” she agreed.
MacLendon, who’d been staring thoughtfully at a pencil he was rolling between his palms, suddenly looked at her. “You don’t think there’s any connection between this and that intruder alert you had the night I arrived?”
“That was a faulty circuit.”
“But what caused it?”
Andrea shifted on the chair. “We don’t know. We never did manage to pin it down.”
“It wasn’t a component failure?”
“No, sir. Halliday—he’s my electronics expert—said a PCB, printed circuit board, had come loose from a connector. It’s impossible to determine how that happened. It may never have been seated correctly, and a small jar could have loosened it.”
“Or someone could have loosened it.”
Andrea said nothing, merely met his gaze steadily.
Dare leaned forward, tossing down the pencil and resting his elbows on the desk. “In light of this incident, maybe we’d better consider the possibility that that board didn’t come loose by accident. I’m not paranoid, Andrea, but I think it’s time to assume the worst until we find out what’s going on.”
“Yes, sir.” She wished he wouldn’t lean forward on his arms like that. The posture pulled his sleeves tight across his upper arms and revealed some very respectable biceps. For the first time she realized that Dare not only had a great shape, he had great muscles, as well. Once again she experienced that odd tightening in places she seldom thought about.
“Andrea?”
Blinking, she raised her eyes from his arms to his face. “Yes?”
“Are you with me, Andrea?”
No, but I’m beginning to wish I were. “Yes, sir.” For an instant, she had the horrifying feeling that he knew where her thoughts had strayed, but he stood up and continued talking business, so she dismissed the notion.
“You’re tired,” Dare said with unexpected kindness. “I imagine you worked all weekend again. Look, for now just bring your squadron to a higher readiness level and let me know about anything unusual that happens. And take some time off, Andrea. You won’t be a damn bit of good to me if you work yourself to death. Let Dolan handle things for the next few days.”
“But, sir—”
MacLendon came around the desk, perched on the edge, and looked down at her. “I know, Andrea,” he said gently. “I’ve been there, too. You want so badly to prove yourself that you’re afraid to leave anything to anyone else. But you’re only one person, and you’ll kill yourself this way. Or, worse, you’ll get so tired you’ll screw something up. Let Dolan earn his keep. Tell him to let you know if there’s any more funny business, but otherwise just let him handle it. Let him deal with the fist-fights and AWOLs and personal problems. That’s what you have a deputy for. How will Dolan ever learn to be a commander if you don’t give him a chance to practice?”
“Yes, sir.” He was right, of course, but she didn’t like it.
“You’re a damn fine officer, Andrea. I know that already. I’ll hardly think less of you if you delegate. Now, go take care of your readiness level and then let your subordinates do what they’re here to do.”
Standing, he indicated that the interview was over. “You know, Andrea, the hardest thing a commander has to do is trust a subordinate to do the job right.”
Rising, Andrea looked him right in the eye. “Yes, sir, it seems to be a common failing.”
Dare astonished her with a laugh. “You’re wrong, Andrea. I trust you to do things right. I just prefer to be informed. Now, go handle it.”
At eight Thanksgiving morning, Andrea pulled up to Dare’s house as prearranged. His house was on a quiet, tree-lined street in the older section of base housing. Snow had still not fallen, although the skies kept threatening it. It wasn’t unusual, though. North Dakota didn’t get much snow, maybe twenty inches over an entire winter. The same twenty inches, however, stayed dry and continuously blew in the wind, rearranging themselves into huge drifts that had to be shoveled almost daily. Twenty inches might as well have been two hundred.
Dare opened the front door to her just as she stepped onto the stoop.
“I saw you drive up,” he said with a smile. “Come on in.”
She stepped into an entry hall that opened into a large living room. Wood floors gleamed with polish and were decorated with Navaho rugs. Sandy colors, accented with blues and an occasional touch of sunset and terra-cotta, brought the desert Southwest to North Dakota.
“It’s beautiful,” Andrea breathed, completely forgetting herself as she stepped into the living room. And it was. Not decorator beautiful. Home beautiful.
Dare was pleased. “Glad you like it.” He took her coat and hung it in the hall closet. When he turned around, the wonder was gone from her face. She once a
gain looked brisk and efficient. He felt a pang of loss but swept it aside.
“Kitchen’s in here,” he said, leading the way.
“Where are the others?” Andrea asked as she followed him.
“They’ll be coming later.”
Later? Her pulse shifted into high gear as she realized he had deliberately arranged for them to be alone together. Why had he done that? Only one reason occurred to her, and it made her mouth go dry. Surely he couldn’t be interested in her as a woman. And if he were? Oh, God! She nearly bolted at the thought. Only years of self-discipline kept her moving after him into the kitchen.
It wasn’t a very big kitchen, but it was adequate. A turkey sat in a roasting pan on the counter, waiting to be stuffed. Bags of bread cubes sat beside it. Andrea pulled an apron out of the bag she’d brought with her and tied it over her slacks with hands that trembled slightly. Together they went to work.
In a very short time Andrea realized that Alisdair MacLendon knew his way around a kitchen. Without the least difficulty, they worked in an intricate, silent ballet that yielded mince and apple pies by ten o’clock. When the pies came out of the oven, the stuffed turkey went in.
Suddenly there was a hiatus in the activity. Andrea was at once relieved that she didn’t have to be constantly on guard against bumping into him and worried about how to fill the time. Where were the others?
Dare disappeared for a moment and returned with two glasses of wine. “It’s early, but it’s Thanksgiving,” he said. “Sit down at the table and relax a minute.”
So she sat at the kitchen table and watched while he cleaned up the baking mess. Her offer to help was refused. Andrea thought back to all the Thanksgivings she’d spent in the kitchen with her mother while her father and brothers watched football and lazed around, and decided that her commanding officer was a pretty unique guy.
And that wasn’t necessarily a good thing, she found herself thinking ruefully. What she needed were reasons not to like the man, reasons to quell the growing attraction she felt. This was almost as bad as—no, it was worse than—her one and only high school crush. Not since the age of fifteen had she followed a man’s every movement with her eyes, as if she could somehow physically satisfy her hunger just by looking, yet here she was filling her eyes with Dare’s every movement. He’d always been attractive to her, but when had he started to look perfect?
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