“I love it. And all the time I thought you were utterly impervious.”
“If I were impervious, I wouldn’t have called you on Christmas Eve.”
“No,” he agreed, “I guess you wouldn’t.”
His blue eyes were smiling and warm, their corners crinkled in the way she loved.
“You’re going to hate me for this, Andrea.”
“For what?”
“I think you look cute in battle dress.”
“Cute? In fatigues? Colonel MacLendon, sir, may I respectfully suggest that you’ve gone crazy? Nobody looks cute in fatigues.”
“You do.” He nuzzled her cheek and blew softly in her ear, enjoying the way she shivered. “And you look adorable in your Academy sweat suit. Promise me one thing, Andrea. Promise me you’ll never stand at attention in that sweat suit again. I could hardly keep my mind on what I was saying because your breasts were—”
She clapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it! I’ll die of embarrassment.”
“It’s humanly impossible to die of embarrassment.”
She ducked her head. “No, it isn’t,” she said in a smothered voice. “God, I’ll never be able to wear my sweats again.”
“You can wear them for me,” he suggested. “And stand at attention—”
“Don’t.” But the eyes she raised to his were laughing despite the painful color in her cheeks. “All the while, I thought that wooden expression on your face was because you were mad at me.”
“Never. I was trying not to pounce on you.”
“I’ll bet. You were probably every bit as embarrassed as I am now.”
“I don’t embarrass. Believe me, embarrassment was the last thing I felt. Actually, I was annoyed with you when I first arrived. Your conduct was unprofessional, you know.”
“I know,” Andrea admitted. “I should never have called you cowboy. I don’t know what possessed me.”
“I do. It’s that little imp that lives inside you. Every so often your imp gets out. Anyhow, I was annoyed, just a little. Nothing serious. And the whole time I was there talking to you, I was coming to like you more and more. By the time I left, I was laughing.”
“You were not!”
“I was. I just didn’t dare let you see it. I like your imp, Andrea.” He ran a gentle fingertip along her hairline to her ear. “I like every damn thing about you just fine. I wouldn’t change one hair, one eyelash, one thought in your head.” Which was not strictly true. There was a thought or two he had every intention of changing.
Looking into his eyes, she almost believed him. Those blue eyes were warm, intense, determined. She wished she could believe him, but even so, she didn’t see how their careers would sustain any kind of a relationship, and she wasn’t about to sacrifice her life’s goals for anything. Of course, he knew that. So when he said he wouldn’t change one thought in her head, it could only mean that he was content with the way things were, that he accepted that it would all end when she left.
Well, hey, she told herself bluntly. The man’s past forty, and he must have had numerous opportunities to remarry, if that was what he wanted. And to women whose career wouldn’t be a problem.
Dare saw the sorrow slip across her face. “Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head. “I was just remembering that tomorrow always comes.”
“Tomorrow we’re going to stay here,” he said firmly. “We’ll go back early on Monday morning.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I know. I’m just trying to tell you that you don’t need to think about tomorrow. Don’t waste today thinking about what hasn’t happened yet, Andrea.”
Nodding, she tucked her face into the curve between his neck and shoulder. “I’ll try not to. But it always comes, Colonel. Sooner or later, tomorrow always comes.”
And he couldn’t have made it any plainer that he wanted no more than the moment from her. Well, that was what she wanted, too, she reminded herself. That being the case, why did she feel so sad?
Monday morning came all too quickly, the way dreaded tomorrows always do. Once again Andrea was in uniform, sitting behind the polished expanse of her large desk, sipping coffee and trying to relegate the weekend to memory, where it belonged. Images insisted on flashing before her mind’s eyes, however, images of Dare stepping stark naked out of the shower and grabbing her, tickling her until she begged for mercy. Images of the way he threw back his head and laughed full-throatedly. Images of the way the hair on his chest arrowed down to the perpetually, suggestively, unfastened snap of his jeans.
Her body remembered things, too: the way his hands felt sliding over her skin, cupping her breasts, grazing their peaks until she ached. The way his buttocks bunched under her hands when he thrust into her.
“Damn it, Burke,” she said aloud. “Quit it!” Two solid days of lovemaking and laughter, and she was greedy for more. Unbelievable.
It was with great relief that she heard Nickerson’s familiar knock on her door. Now maybe she would get her mind on work, where it belonged.
Nick carried a large envelope with him, as well as his usual folder, and he handed the envelope to her.
“For you, ma’am. It arrived just a couple minutes ago.”
Andrea recognized Dare’s office code in the return address block. “What now?” she wondered, then shrugged, setting it aside. It could wait until after Nick brought her up to date. “What do you have for me, Nick?”
“The usual.” He helped himself to coffee and took a seat. “Do you really want the litany?”
Andrea had to smile. “Photocopy it and give me a copy. What’s on your mind?”
“Did you hear what almost happened to MacLendon Saturday morning?”
Andrea was surprised that Dare’s visit to the BOQ wasn’t all over the base by now. The military grapevine usually worked better than this. “I heard. Somebody punctured his hydraulic lines.”
Nick nodded. “So he told you. I wondered if it was true.”
“Yes.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but what the hell are we going to do about it?”
“I told him I was going to investigate whether he liked it or not.”
Nickerson nodded. “I’m glad you did, skipper. I don’t know who he called in to handle this mess, but I reckon it was OSI, and if you’ll excuse me for saying so, they ain’t accomplished diddly squat so far. I was going to ask for your permission to pursue an investigation on my own.”
“I was going to ask you to join me in mine.”
Nickerson smiled. “I’m with you all the way, Captain.”
Andrea reached for the envelope and cut it open. Inside, as she had half expected, was an incident report on the events of Saturday morning. A hand-written note was attached.
You said you were going ahead whether I wanted you to or not, so I thought you should have all the available information. Unfortunately I don’t have access to everything OSI may have learned, but everything we’ve been able to give them is here.
Andrea looked up. “It’s all here, Nick, everything MacLendon can put together about what happened. After I read it, I’ll pass it on to you, but I don’t want anyone else to see it or to know that you and I are investigating.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nickerson looked satisfied as he rose. “I’ll get you a copy of the weekend incident report.”
Dare’s mood was, to put it mildly, crummy. He and the entire Wing were grounded as a result of Saturday’s events. No more flying until the culprit was found. The alert planes, the bombers that stood ready with nuclear weapons aboard, were surrounded by a tight cordon of security guards, some of whom were OSI. Dare had been angry enough on Saturday, but it was nothing compared to what he felt now at having his Wing’s operations hampered. One entire SAC bomb wing, an essential link in the nation’s defenses, had been brought to its knees by one or two crazies with a grudge. It was enough to make him crazy.
The higher-ups didn’t like it, either. He ha
d been in some uncomfortable positions in his life, but never before had one so closely resembled the Iroquois torture of roasting a man alive over hot coals. He was under pressure from all directions, yet there wasn’t a damn thing he could personally do except ensure that SAC didn’t get another black eye by losing a plane and crew. OSI was doing what it could, eliminating suspects one by one, but nothing was moving fast enough to please anyone.
Wednesday afternoon brought the only bright spot to his entire week. During the early afternoon, Andrea called him.
“Colonel, if you can see your way to coming over here, I’d highly recommend it.”
Dare looked out his window at the blowing snow and frowned. “What is it?”
“I don’t want to spoil the surprise, sir, but you could classify this as a sort of public relations matter. A pleasant one.”
Well, he thought, it would give him an opportunity to see Andrea, even if only formally. Maybe he could even find a private minute with her to discuss the upcoming weekend.
“Give me twenty minutes, Captain.” It would take him almost that long to get into his cold weather gear. With the temperature at twenty-seven below and the wind blowing at forty to forty-five miles an hour, it was no day for cutting corners, even for a short trip.
Andrea was waiting for him in the front office of Security Police Headquarters. With her stood a wizened man of about seventy with a ramrod posture that belied his years. Throwing back his hood and peeling off his gloves, Dare strode toward them.
“You wanted to see me, Captain?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you for coming. Colonel, this is Mr. Selfridge. He farms up toward the Canadian border. Mr. Selfridge, Colonel MacLendon, commander of the 447th Bombardment Wing.”
Dare shook the old farmer’s hand, saying, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Selfridge.”
Selfridge eyed him keenly and then gave an approving nod. “Reckon you’ve seen combat.”
“Vietnam.”
“I was in the South Pacific from ‘41 on. Navy.”
Dare smiled. “Then it’s an honor to meet you. What can I do for you, Mr. Selfridge?”
“Not a thing,” said Selfridge, surprising him with a laugh. “Not a thing. Just have something to return to you.”
Perplexed, MacLendon looked at Andrea and saw the devil lights in her hazy green eyes. At once he felt the corner of his mouth lift in anticipation. Well, he could use a good joke.
“Mr. Selfridge,” Andrea said, “came to return some government property.”
“What’s that?” Dare asked, totally at sea now.
Andrea pointed to a box at her feet. “This, sir. Mr. Selfridge collected three more boxes as well.”
“They’re out in my truck,” Selfridge assured him.
Andrea’s eyes sparkled with humor, and Dare decided to go along with her. Squatting, he opened the top of the box and stared. It was filled with hair-fine, aluminum-coated glass fibers.
“This is chaff,” Dare said blankly.
“Yes, sir,” Andrea said gravely, betrayed by a faint tremor in her voice. “Four whole boxes of chaff.”
“Saw it fall off one of your planes,” Selfridge said. “Damn stuff went everywhere. Had a hell of a time collecting it all, but I think I got most of it.”
Dare froze in his squatting position and hastily covered his mouth with his hand, rubbing it as if lost in thought. He didn’t dare look at Andrea for fear he would be unable to contain his laughter. These fine little fibers, called chaff, were dispensed by aircraft in order to confuse radar. Millions upon millions of these dipoles were often expended in a single evasive maneuver, and they had absolutely no further value once they were emptied from their tubes. Dare almost couldn’t bear to think of Mr. Selfridge conscientiously collecting all these little hairs.
Dare cleared his throat. “Ah, Captain Burke?”
“Sir?”
“Why don’t you get a photographer over here. I want to thank Mr. Selfridge properly, and I’d like him to have a photograph as a mark of our appreciation.”
“Yes, sir.” Pivoting, Andrea strode up the hallway.
Slowly rising to his feet, Dare glanced at the two desk cops. That wasn’t a safe direction to look, either. From their wooden expressions, he gathered they were close to strangling on their suppressed laughter. The only place left to look was at Selfridge.
“I can’t imagine,” Dare said to the farmer, “how you ever found all these on the snow.”
“Twasn’t difficult to see them. They’re gray against the snow. It was the devil to collect ’em. Thought they might be secret, though, and I couldn’t see letting them blow all over where anyone might find them.”
Dare managed a nod. “Why don’t we go to Captain Burke’s office and have some coffee while we wait for the photographer?”
“Let me get the other boxes of that stuff in here first.”
“That won’t be necessary. These two airmen will get them for you.” The two desk cops no longer looked like laughing, Dare saw. Satisfied, he escorted Selfridge to Andrea’s office. She was just hanging up the phone when the two men entered.
“The photographer’s on his way over, sir.”
“Good, good.” Smiling broadly, Dare ushered Selfridge to a chair. “Pour Mr. Selfridge some coffee, Captain.” He enjoyed the flash of irritation the order brought to her green eyes.
“What do you raise, Mr. Selfridge?” Dare asked while Andrea dealt with the coffee.
“Durum wheat. My boys do most of the work these days, but it don’t hardly seem fair to them. There ain’t much money in it, for sure. Not like there used to be. Time was a farmer could expect to make a fair living from the soil, but the price of seed and fertilizer’s shot to the moon.”
“It’s rough,” Dare agreed. “My dad and brothers ranch in Montana, over toward Kalispell, and it’s a struggle to make ends meet.”
Eventually—none too soon, in Dare’s estimation—the photographer showed up and snapped a photo of Dare and Selfridge as they shook hands in front of the U.S. flag. The desk sergeant was summoned to escort Selfridge back to his truck.
“You know, Mr. Selfridge,” Dare said as the farmer turned to leave, “it’s not often that I meet someone as honest and patriotic as you are. I don’t think one man in ten million would have gone to so much trouble to return that chaff. I’m truly honored to have met you.”
Selfridge actually blushed. “Just doing my duty, Colonel.”
When he and Andrea were alone, Dare turned to look at her, fully expecting to find her doubled over with laughter. He was astonished to find her regarding him with wide, dewy eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. Damn, she looked as if she were about to weep, and he couldn’t stand the thought of Andrea weeping.
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying, sir. I never cry. You saw it. I didn’t know for sure if you would.”
“Saw what?”
“What an adorable, selfless, touching thing that man did. It was funny, of course, but only because we know how worthless that chaff is. What Selfridge did is beautiful. Can you imagine how many days he must have spent gathering that stuff?”
“My back aches at the thought.” More than his back ached, right now. His heart ached at the way she was looking at him. He couldn’t remember anybody ever having looked at him that way, as if he were the most wonderful man in the world. “Andrea, I—”
“Thank you for coming over here, Colonel,” she interrupted. “I felt he deserved some kind of recognition.”
“No problem. Andrea—”
“I just couldn’t send him all that way back without—”
Goaded by her evident determination to avoid personal conversation, Dare took matters into his own hands. Rounding her desk, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her into quivering submission. When she was finally clinging to him for support, he decided to risk trying to talk to her again.
“About this weeke
nd, Andrea.” He sounded a little breathless himself, but that was okay. He wanted her to know what she did to him. Damn all these clothes!
“Yes, sir?”
“We’ve got to make plans.”
Her eyelids lifted a fraction, revealing just a glimpse of her green irises. “Plans?”
“Plans for the weekend,” he repeated patiently. “Damn it, Andrea, you can’t look at me like that and then tell me to get lost. I want to spend the weekend with you again.”
“Oh.” Blinking, she made an effort to gather her wits. Why not? she thought. She was already in so deep that one more weekend wouldn’t make a bit of difference.
A knock on the door jolted them apart. Andrea turned away from him.
“Burke, damn it, look at me and answer me.”
“That’s Nickerson,” she said breathlessly. “You make the plans and let me know.”
Relieved, Dare yielded a sigh. “Okay,” he said, just as Andrea called out, “Come on in, Nick.”
Dare exited swiftly, leaving Andrea and Nickerson to their meeting.
Nick, who’d stared after MacLendon, turned to look at Andrea, and his face went suddenly and totally wooden. From his unusual and utter lack of expression, Andrea guessed he’d somehow picked up on something in the atmosphere. Hell!
“We’ve got work to do, Nick,” she said abruptly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He glanced at her and then away, but not before she caught the twinkle in his eye. Damn all nosy NCO’s, she thought irritably, and snatched up the report she wanted to discuss with him.
Chapter 12
In the early hours of Thursday morning, one of the alert planes caught fire. After recent events, no one doubted that the fire had been deliberately set, but the question no one could answer was how. Even under ordinary circumstances those planes were closely guarded, because their bomb bays were full of nuclear weapons. Lately, security around them had been so tight that Andrea would have said even a field mouse couldn’t have slipped past unnoticed.
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