Blogger Bundle Volume VIII: SBTB's Harlequins That Hooked You

by Jennifer Crusie

  When the last of the mess had disappeared, just as rich aromas of turkey were beginning to issue from the oven, he joined her at the table with his wineglass.

  “To future holidays,” he said, raising his glass.

  Andrea lifted her glass and managed what she hoped was a casual smile. “No football?”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “Sometimes. I can take it or leave it. Why? Is there a game you want to see?”

  Andrea shook her head, the faint smile still on her lips. “I watch it because it’s expected. I have to be able to talk football with the guys. I’d rather scan the sports section in the morning and pick up the highlights so I can sound intelligent.”

  He chuckled. “Me, too. But don’t ever tell anybody.”

  “Personally, I’d rather play it.”

  “Don’t tell me you were on the Academy squad.”

  She laughed then. “Not likely! Equal opportunity didn’t go that far. I fenced.”

  “You’re very good at thrust and parry,” he said.

  Their eyes locked, and something happened. While some corner of her mind acknowledged the thrust of his teasing remark, the ground seemed to shift beneath her. She blinked quickly and looked away, feeling panicky.

  The conviction formed in MacLendon then that, although he was going to wrestle with himself about it all day, some time before he said good-night to Andrea Burke he was going to kiss her. Only as the idea took root in his mind did he realize that he’d been wanting to kiss her for weeks.

  Looking down at his wineglass, he considered the idea. It would be dangerous, no question of that. They had to work together every day. He wished the thought had never occurred to him. He liked Andrea, damn it. He liked her and respected her and felt that they had arrived at a uniquely comfortable working relationship. She was, in fact, among the best of the officers he had worked with in his career. She took her job seriously and was unquestionably skilled at both security and command. Her no-nonsense approach to matters kept her unit running like a well-greased machine. Unlike so many other female officers of his acquaintance, her femininity never came to work with her. She was a good man.

  So why the hell was he proposing to upset what surely must be a delicate balance for her? Because he had to know what she tasted like? What she felt like against him? What his name sounded like on her lips? Never yet had she called him Dare. It was beginning to look as if she never would. So for the sake of a little male curiosity, he was going to risk it all?

  He looked up and found her misty green eyes watching him warily. He could have sworn she knew what he was thinking. He wished he could read her mind. Was she sitting there wondering how she would handle the sexual harassment if he touched her? Because it could be considered sexual harassment. Off duty or not, he was her CO.

  “Damn,” he said suddenly, startling them both, and rose from the table. He couldn’t touch her. They would never, ever be off duty enough for it to be all right for him to touch her. One of them would have to get a transfer first.

  “Dare?”

  The sound of his name on her lips for the very first time drew him up short halfway across the kitchen. “It’s okay,” he said, not daring to look back. “I just remembered something. Won’t be a minute.”

  When the other guests, four very young lieutenants, arrived that afternoon at two, they were obviously nervous at the prospect of having dinner with the CO. All four were ROTC graduates, summer soldiers who were just getting their first taste of the real Air Force. Dare took pity on them and poured them all a stiff drink. By the time they sat down to dinner an hour and a half later, the alcohol was doing its work, and Dare kept it flowing freely, figuring he could sober them up over dessert.

  Talk and laughter began to flow just as freely, and MacLendon told a few of his funnier war stories. Around five, when they cut into the pies, Dare cut off the alcohol and Andrea started pouring coffee. After pie, they settled onto the living room couches and somebody noticed that a light snow flurry had started.

  “We had that briefing last week,” one of the lieutenants said. Davis was his name. “The bad weather briefing, about carrying supplies and blankets and things in your car. It really gets that bad?”

  “Absolutely,” Andrea and Dare answered in one voice. They looked at each other and laughed.

  “This is my third tour here,” Dare said, “and I still take it seriously. We get these storms called Alberta Clippers, which are breakthroughs of polar air. Inside of twenty minutes the temperature can drop sixty degrees, and the wind kicks up so bad that if there’s a quarter inch of snow on the ground, you get what’s called a whiteout. You can’t see the hand in front of your face for the blowing snow.”

  Hardy, another of the lieutenants, whistled softly.

  “You know that saying about thirty-thirty-thirty?” Dare asked. “At thirty degrees below zero in a thirty-mile-an-hour wind, exposed flesh freezes in thirty seconds. When we’re talking about an Alberta Clipper, we’re talking about temperatures that can be sixty degrees below zero, with forty- to sixty-mile-an-hour winds. If you’re out in one without shelter, you can expect to be frozen to death in under five minutes. It happens. It has happened. So you carry survival gear in your car, and if you go off the road, you stay put until rescue comes.

  “And even on a sunny day in February, it’s dangerous. There are about six weeks every winter when the daytime high doesn’t get over thirty below. And the wind here never blows less than thirty miles an hour. Believe me, you want that stuff in your car.”

  “I guess so,” said Davis.

  “And come March,” Andrea said, “when the daytime highs rise above zero, you’ll be outside in sweaters talking about how warm it is.”

  The lieutenant gaped, and Dare chuckled.

  “This reminds me of a funny story,” Andrea said. “A funny true story that happened my first winter here. A couple of my cops were on their way out to the missile fields when they got caught in a whiteout and went off the road into a ditch. In almost no time at all they were buried in drifting snow. We found them, of course, but it took a good twenty-four hours, and all that was showing when we located them was their radio antenna.”

  “My gosh,” said Davis. Coming from Florida, he really couldn’t imagine it.

  “Anyhow,” Andrea continued, “they were okay except for being thoroughly chilled and thoroughly scared. After they were released from the hospital, I called them to my office to see how they were doing. One of them, I can’t tell you his name, said to me, ‘I’m scared to death, Captain.’ I thought he was joking, but he shook his head and said, no, he was even more scared than he had been when they were trapped. So I asked him why, and he said, ‘I keep remembering all the promises I made to God.”’

  When Dare walked the lieutenants out to their cars around seven that evening, Andrea went to the kitchen and started doing dishes. It had been a nice day, she thought, a very nice day, except for that one awkward moment this morning where something had happened. She wondered what it was, then shrugged it aside. She was getting used to awkward moments around Colonel MacLendon.

  “Andrea, leave those dishes alone. I’ll do them tomorrow.”

  He had returned to the kitchen, and as he came up beside her, she could feel the outdoor cold that clung to him.

  “I can’t do that,” she answered. “I was raised to believe that leaving dishes overnight is a sin.”

  “Then I’ll do them, and you go sit down.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Are you refusing to obey a direct order?” His voice was teasing, but there was another element, one that disturbed her. She looked up at him and green eyes met blue. The world stood still.

  “Andrea.”

  “Yes?”

  He closed his eyes. “If you don’t get the hell out of here now, I’m going to do something unforgivable.”

  “Sir?” Her voice took on a note that made him open his eyes. She was lookin
g up at him unwaveringly, the mist in her eyes deepening, swirling.

  “Andrea, it is unforgivable of a superior officer to make a pass at a subordinate.”

  “A pass?” Some corner of her mind registered that she was sounding incredibly stupid right now, but it hardly seemed important when indefinable feelings were flooding her in alternating waves of heat and cold. A pass. The notion at once thrilled and terrified her.

  “A kiss, Andrea. I want to kiss you.”

  “Oh!” The word escaped her on a sharply expelled breath, and she cocked her head, straining to find some vestige of common sense in a mind that had turned to mush. “Why?”

  Damn, he thought, she was going to take this right to the bitter end, by which time he’d probably be a raving lunatic. “Why what?” he asked.

  “Why do you want to kiss me?” Somehow the answer to that was incredibly important.

  “Curiosity. Sheer male curiosity.”

  “Oh.” That was safe, she told herself. Curiosity could be appeased quickly, and then they could get back on a safer footing. She refused to analyze the strange pang of disappointment his answer had given her. All she knew was that she had to kiss him. Something deeper than thought drove her. “I guess it would be best to get rid of that curiosity before it affects our working relationship,” she said finally.

  It was the best rationalization he’d ever heard. For a moment he let it resound through him as the mist in her eyes darkened, as the ice in his melted to the warmth of a blue fire. She was forthright always, he thought, and realized how much he admired the honesty with which she approached life.

  He walked right up to her until their bodies almost touched, and not once did her gaze leave his. There was trust there, he realized. She trusted him not to do more than kiss her, not to let this come between them at work. And, surprisingly, he trusted her just the same.

  Looking down at her elfin face, it suddenly crossed his mind that he was about to kiss a woman who was utterly without experience in these matters. There was something in the wideness of her eyes, in the rapid way her breasts rose and fell, that spoke more of nervousness than excitement. Surely she couldn’t be inexperienced. He dismissed the notion as ridiculous. She was twenty-eight, after all, and a liberated woman.

  You’re crazy…crazy…crazy. The word pounded in Andrea’s head in time with the thud of her heart. This was playing with fire of the worst kind. This man was her commanding officer! She watched him step nearer, and the whole focus of the universe suddenly narrowed to that tiny kitchen, to the hammering of her heart, to the blue of the eyes that moved closer…closer….

  He bent slowly and closed his eyes only when his lips settled on hers. Her mouth was soft, warm, welcoming, as he had known it would be. There was no artifice or coyness to her, and she would have scorned such things even had she known about them. She simply received his touch as if it pleased her as much as it did him.

  With his mouth nestled on hers, he very carefully brought his arms around her and drew her against him in a gentle embrace. His big hands traced soothing patterns on her back as his tongue traced her lips, tasting brandy, apples, cinnamon.

  Oh, God, it felt so good! Andrea moaned softly at the sheer pleasure of his embrace. The pressure of his hands on her back and the strength of his arms around her satisfied an ache so deep it was rooted in her very soul. She could have luxuriated forever in the sensation and warmth, except that the flick of his tongue against her lips shot ribbons of fresh hunger toward her center. She wanted, needed, a deeper possession.

  And then came the heart-stopping moment when her lips parted for him, separating as if they had just discovered something new and wonderful and couldn’t wait to try it.

  Dare drew her closer, deepening the kiss. He found smooth teeth and then, at last, her tongue, a trembling, shy tongue that didn’t quite know what to do. Blazing across his mind like a meteor was the realization that she was genuinely inexperienced, and that he’d better stop now. Inexperienced women were too easily hurt.

  But at that instant, just as he decided to break gently away, Andrea’s tongue found his bravely in a coiling stroke that just about deprived him of reason. Inexperienced, yes, but instinctively skillful, with a thirst that suddenly seemed to match his own. And against his better judgment, Dare met her stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust, teaching her an erotic rhythm that caused her to go weak and trembling in his arms. It was complete and total surrender to the moment, and Dare recognized it with a sense of male triumph and an aching sadness.

  Gently, regretfully, he raised his head. Her eyes opened slowly, hazy and heavy-lidded. Sparks of passion glowed there like green fire. His own passion was undeniable, pressed between them. Unconsciously her hips made an instinctive seeking motion, and he almost lost control. Almost, but not quite. Closing his eyes a moment, he drew several deep breaths. The kiss hadn’t ended anything, he realized. It had only started it.

  When he was able, he stepped back a couple of inches. Andrea opened her mouth as if to say something, but he stopped her with a finger on her swollen lips.

  “Hush,” he said. “I know.”

  Andrea’s eyes became unreadable. She turned and went to the hall, taking her coat from the closet.

  “Good night, sir,” she said, betrayed by the faint quiver of her voice, and then she was gone.

  Chapter 5

  Andrea understood masculine curiosity. Her brothers had always talked freely around her, and on more than one evening she’d shared an illicit beer with them while they frankly discussed some girl’s charms. In a way, back in the teen years, they’d proved their mother’s warning to Andrea that guys were out for only one thing.

  On the other hand, she’d seen them sweat over asking some girl out for the first time, had seen them heartbroken when a girl dumped them. Before she left for the Academy, she’d even watched two of her brothers fall in love and marry. She’d seen them moon-faced and starry-eyed, hangdog and desperate, and had long ago concluded that when you chipped away the macho veneer, you could often find mush. In spite of her parents’ best efforts to convince her to the contrary, Andrea figured that, underneath, men and women weren’t a whole lot different.

  The sexual curiosity part was one of the differences, however. Unlike her brothers, who mentally undressed every attractive girl in the high school, Andrea had never wondered what was in a guy’s jeans. Having six brothers, she’d concluded at a very early age that all men had pretty standard equipment. No curiosity in that. Men, however, looked upon women as a series of greener pastures, unexplored territory to be conquered. Her brothers had roared with laughter when a sixteen-year-old Andrea had told them she couldn’t see what the big deal was: all cats were gray in the dark. Over the years she’d dated casually, kissed because it was expected, and found not one reason to change her mind on the subject.

  Until Alisdair MacLendon. He’d aroused her curiosity, although she wasn’t quite sure how or why. At odd moments she’d caught herself wondering what his chest looked like. Was it hairy or smooth? Was it flat or rippled with muscle? His thin, hard mouth that could look so dangerous when he was annoyed, did it feel warm and soft? How did it taste? Would the invasion of his tongue repel her the way all others had? Once, at a staff meeting, he’d been writing on a chalkboard, and she’d found herself staring at his hard, flat buttocks.

  But such thoughts were fleeting and easily dismissed. Just curiosity, she told herself, and having grown up with six curious boys, she gave the matter no further importance.

  But then he’d kissed her. Mountains moved, the earth trembled, and Andrea Burke stood shaken by the realization that the simple touch of lips and tongue could halt the planets in their courses. Just curiosity, but she knew how Pandora felt when she opened the forbidden chest and unleashed all the woes of the world.

  By the time she went to work the following morning, Andrea had put a huge mental off-limits sign on Colonel Alisdair MacLendon. He didn’t need it, and she certainly didn’t, eith
er. She had her career to consider, and any kind of involvement with her commanding officer would hang a vicious label on her that would ruin her future. Nor did he need people whispering that he took advantage of subordinate officers. Had he been in any other unit, there would have been no problem. As it was, the incident must never be repeated.

  Firm in her decision, Andrea wondered why she felt so sour. Sitting behind the large desk that was a symbol of her achievement, between the flags she served, with life for once quiet, she ought to be feeling pretty good. In a couple of years she would make major, and there was no doubt in her mind that eventually she’d be selected for lieutenant colonel. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To do all the things she’d always been told a woman couldn’t do, instead of all the things she’d been told a woman should do?

  Of course that was what she wanted. So why did she feel so restless and irritable? It was with relief that she greeted Nickerson when he showed up with the incident report.

  “Morning, Nick. Help yourself to coffee and grab a seat.”

  When he’d filled a white foam cup, Nickerson sat, crossing his legs loosely, and gave her a knowing look. “If I didn’t know better, ma’am, I’d say you were out of sorts this morning.”

  Andrea couldn’t prevent a grin. “But you know better.”

  “Sure do.” Nick set his cup on the edge of her desk and opened the folder in his lap. “Well, Captain, Airman Greene tells me she’s three month’s pregnant and she wants to separate.”

  “She’s sure about that? Has anyone counseled her?”

  “I tried.” Nick looked wry. “Captain, I might as well be honest. I started in the Marines back when women in the service belonged to a separate corps and any who got pregnant were out. Now, I think I’ve done a passable job of adjusting to this equal rights business, but counseling pregnant females is about the hardest task I have as First Shirt. Heck, I ain’t ever been married or pregnant myself, so what do I know? I can counsel a recruit about condoms and social diseases, I can handle domestic quarrels, but a pregnant female—well, I’m not real sure I’m very convincing. Thing is, Greene is a good cop. Pregnant or not, I’d like to see her stay in. Maybe you could ask somebody else to counsel her.”