Let It Ride

by Jillian Burns

  “You’re the one who challenged him to go after that poor girl. How do you think she would feel if she knew he was just trying to win a bet?”

  “First of all—” Mitch swallowed a chip dripping with gooey cheese “—poor girl? The woman can take care of herself. She sure as hell shut me down.”

  “And that’s why you really did this, isn’t it?” Hughes just wouldn’t let it go. “You’re infuriated that some woman actually turned you down.”

  “Second—” he planned on ignoring that remark “—Jackson needed a challenge. Trust me, this is just the thing to take his mind off his situation.”

  Grady grunted. “Permanently grounded.” He shook his head. “But the Air Force has reassigned pilots before.”

  “If they don’t discharge him,” Hughes said.

  “Did Jackson mention a reassignment request?” Mitch kind of hoped Jackson might get assigned here at Nellis.

  Grady shook his head. “Not to me. And it could take weeks for his commanding officer to get the paperwork in order one way or the other. He’s just gonna have to wait it out. You know how it is. Hurry up and wait.”

  When Mitch had first heard Jackson had been shot down and was MIA, guilt and worry had kept his insides churning. Then they’d heard Jackson had wandered into the Iraqi base camp after two days in the desert, looking more dead than alive. And he hadn’t looked much better when Mitch had visited him in Maryland at the hospital at Andrews AFB.

  The memory burned like acid in his stomach. He should have been there, with his buddy, in Iraq, watching his back. And he would have been if he hadn’t made an ass of himself over Luanne.

  Mitch’s hand hurt and he looked down. He opened his clenched fist and stretched the fingers until he could feel them again. The track came into focus and he realized he’d missed the first two laps of the race thinking about those dark days of his divorce.

  He glanced over at Hughes and something eased inside him. She was leaning forward, elbows on knees, watching the race the same way she did everything: with intense interest. Her ball cap was turned backward, as usual. Her cheeks were bulging with the last of her hot dog, and she had a glob of mustard on the corner of her mouth.

  He grinned, glad she was back after two years stationed at Langley. She was the kind of pal who stuck by you through hell and back and always told it like it was. He never had to guess what she was thinking and she never ever lied to him.

  Either she was involved in watching the race, or she didn’t want to yell over the noise, but he knew she hadn’t dropped the subject.

  And sure enough, as the tow trucks cleared the track of a messy crash, she turned to him. “It was a stupid thing to do, McCabe. Jackson may like the challenge, but what if that girl turns him down? Have you thought about how it might affect him? He’ll be worse off than before. And minus his treasured bottle of Scotch.”

  Mitch shrugged. “We’ve always competed, always dared each other. And you know he wouldn’t want to be treated any different just because he’s been injured.”

  Hughes stared at him with pursed lips, and then looked down at the beer she held between her legs. “I guess you’re right.”

  It struck him suddenly that Hughes had changed since being at Langley. Something was different. He wondered if something had happened. Well, if she wanted to talk about it, she’d bring it up. “Hey, how about we hit Duffy’s after this? See if we can get lucky tonight.” He grinned at her.

  The look she gave him was…weird. Like she pitied him or something. Yeah—even though they’d kept in touch, sending text messages and e-mails—Hughes was different. Used to be she’d flip him off after falling for his latest practical joke. Then she’d shoot him an evil grin and plot her revenge.

  But lately, she just seemed testy.

  First, Jackson’s risk of being discharged. Now, whatever was bugging Hughes…These guys were the only buddies he had. Mitch felt his world was changing. And damn, he hated change.

  COLE HAD CONVINCED himself Jordan couldn’t be as beautiful as he’d remembered.

  But she was.

  Seeing her tonight hit him hard all over again. He watched her for a half hour, studying her smile and gestures, the swing of her butt and the sensuous shift of her breasts when she moved. She looked at him a couple of times, meeting him stare for stare. He considered smiling and waving, but the mood didn’t seem to warrant it. Her mouth would tighten and she’d break eye contact.

  His mission tonight was to make discreet inquiries of her coworkers. He hit pay dirt with a redheaded Keno girl who seemed to relish playing matchmaker.

  He learned Jordan had worked at The Grand almost six years and that she attended the University of Nevada at Las Vegas weekday mornings. The redhead said she’d been seeing a banker several months ago, but no one since. Cole already knew she had a soft spot for homeless bums. And one other thing he’d picked up last night: when he’d told her he’d wait with her until her bus came, the look on her face had left him…aroused.

  Unfortunately, tonight that shocked and vulnerable look was nowhere to be seen. As soon as Jordan spotted him waiting for her in the parking lot behind the bus stop, she called out to him.

  “I don’t need a bodyguard, Major. Really, it’s fine.”

  Cole raised a brow, shoved the kickstand down and got off his Harley. “Maybe.” He closed the distance between them. “Maybe not.”

  Damned if she didn’t look sexier in her civilian clothes. Her teased hair and showgirl makeup seemed out of place with the faded jeans, denim jacket and worn sneakers.

  She crinkled her brow, and then checked the street. “I wait here every night. I’m perfectly safe.”

  “Would anyone stop to help if you got mugged?” He grunted. “Maybe, maybe not.”

  A withering sigh escaped her as she turned back to stare at him. “So, is this what you do? Ride around all night patrolling the strip looking for damsels in distress?”

  “Used to patrol the Baghdad strip, does that count?” A smile tugged one side of his mouth. “Look. Maybe we could just talk until your bus gets here.”

  “At two in the morning, you want to have a stimulating conversation about…?”

  “About you.”

  “Why?”

  “You interest me. Is that so hard to believe?” Unbelievably, it was true. She was fascinating. He wanted to know everything about her.

  “Yes.” She glanced along the street again, as if willing the bus to hurry. Damn, that was rough on a guy’s ego.

  “You think you know me, or my type.” It wasn’t a question, but he wanted to see what she’d say. He stepped closer, and she instinctively took a step back. He cocked his head. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No. I just don’t trust you.”

  He didn’t blame her. “Fair enough. In your line of work, you’ve probably dealt with your share of jerks. You think I’m only after sex?” Wasn’t he?

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I could get that anywhere in this town.”

  “Then go for it.”

  The challenge flamed in his chest. “I don’t want anyone else.”

  “So, you admit you want to get laid.”

  He blinked. She was no shrinking violet, was she? But there was no reason not to be honest with each other. “What red-blooded man doesn’t?” he said with a shrug. “I never claimed to be celibate.” He folded his arms. “Look, I won’t deny the minute I saw you, I was attracted to you. And it’d be great if we got together. But you’re…interesting. I haven’t asked you up to my hotel room, or tried to put my hands all over you. I just thought I’d get to know you.”

  She frowned, and something about the look in her eyes made him think she might be wavering.

  “Here’s the deal,” he said. “You ask me something about me, and then I get to ask you a question.”

  “You assume I want to know you.”

  “Fine. We’ll stand here avoiding each other in awkward silence until your bus comes.”

>   She surprised him by letting out a frustrated half growl, half groan. “All right, Major. You’ve seen combat?”

  “Call me Cole. And yeah. Served one tour in Afghanistan and two in Iraq.”

  “And you’re going back when your leave is over?”

  Back into combat? Not likely. The thought of a desk job, or—even worse—a medical discharge, made his throat close up. And knowing he’d never fly again was a physical pain in his chest. But he couldn’t talk about it.

  “My turn.” He studied her intensely for a second. What did he most want to know? “What’s your favorite time of day?”

  She looked puzzled. Good. He’d caught her off guard. “Early mornings.” She cleared her throat. “Your injuries.” She gestured toward his neck. “Were you…shot down?”

  He kept his features blank as he nodded, then smiled and stepped closer, wanting to catch a whiff of her unique scent. “Yoga at sunrise and herbal tea, am I right?”

  She shook her head and barely stopped a smile. “Pilates and diet cola. At nine. Did you get a Purple Heart?”

  He grimaced. “Not yet.” And he wasn’t likely to since he’d disobeyed orders. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

  “Now why,” she frowned, “would you waste one of your questions on something like that?”

  “We didn’t put a limit on questions.”

  “Hmm. Maybe we should have.”

  In answer he merely raised a brow.

  Then she actually, finally, smiled. “Okay, okay. Ben and Jerry’s Oatmeal Cookie Chunk.”

  Man, she was beautiful. And real, somehow.

  “Let’s see…” She put her finger to her lips and studied him from head to toe. “Any brothers and sisters?”

  He nodded. “Two of each.”

  “Wow. Four siblings? I always wanted a brother or a sister.”

  “Believe me.” He moaned and shook his head, recalling all the torment he’d lived through as the youngest of five. “Count your blessings. Five kids. One bathroom. You’re the math whiz. What were my odds?”

  She laughed and something eased inside him.

  “You’re calling me a math whiz? I know what kind of intelligence it takes to become a fighter pilot.”

  Taking a half step toward her, he reached out with one finger and touched her cheek. “You have a beautiful laugh.”

  Her smile dropped, but she didn’t push his hand away. If he moved one millimeter closer, her nipples would brush his leather jacket. She licked her lips and he couldn’t stop a raspy sound from escaping his throat as he caught the action. What could she do to him with those lips?

  “Whose turn is it for a question?” she asked quietly.

  His mouth hovered above hers. Had she leaned toward him? He lowered his head a fraction more. “Mmm. Mine.” His lips brushed the corner of her mouth. “When’s your next day off?” he mumbled against her cheek, then nuzzled along her jaw.

  “Tuesday.” Her voice sounded breathy and she softened against him. His cock swelled in his jeans.

  His finger glided up her throat and lifted her chin. Just as their lips touched, the bus gasped to a stop beside them. She jerked her head back and stepped away.

  But this time, after she found a seat, Cole caught her glancing back at him with a disturbed expression.

  He ran a hand through his hair, and then turned toward his bike. He sure as hell didn’t want to head to the hotel yet. It wasn’t as if he’d sleep anyway. He was still as hard as stone.

  He’d been so close. So close to tasting her. To feeling her in his arms. And he hadn’t even planned that move. He needed more sleep. And sex. Ten months in Iraq. Three in the hospital. Geez, it’d been more than a year since he’d spread a woman’s thighs and lain between them. Felt them wrap around him as he pushed into her.

  Into Jordan. He couldn’t picture any other woman in his bed right now. He closed his eyes as he remembered the softness of her cheek. The chase made him feel alive again, but so did the woman herself. And he only had five more days to seduce her if he wanted to win that bet with McCabe.

  3

  SUNDAY NIGHT Jordan headed for the break room, dreaming not of slipping out of her heels and getting off her feet for a half hour, but of the feel of Cole’s lips brushing hers.

  She’d been playing with fire by giving in to his suggestion last night, and she’d come close to letting him burn her resolve to a crisp. His hard body had fitted so rightly against hers, and his touch had sizzled along her skin.

  She stopped in her tracks when she walked into Cole pacing by the break-room door clutching a paper bag. Her world filled with the fragrance of heated musky aftershave and old leather.

  Oh, no. Her resistance was already weak. She didn’t know if she could fight her feelings tonight. It felt as if the coil inside her chest would snap at any moment. If only there was such a thing as an inoculation against sexual attraction.

  She stepped back and flattened the empty tray against her chest like a shield. “Are you stalking me, Major?”

  He gave her a skeptical look. “It’s Cole. And do stalkers usually bring their victims Oatmeal Cookie Chunk?” He held out the paper sack.

  “What?” She set the tray on a nearby stool, then cautiously took the bag and peered inside. “It really is—” She looked up at him. “But where did you—” She stared into the bag again. How in the world…They only have this flavor at Christmas. How’d you find it in May?”

  He grinned. “I’m a man of many talents.”

  “I bet.” She didn’t try to hide the sarcasm in her tone. “Look, I’m not—” Oh man, she couldn’t be that rude. Dropping her gaze to the floor, she stalled by shifting her weight from foot to foot before looking up at him. “Thank you for the thought, but—” she shoved the bag against his chest “—I have to go.” She twisted away.

  “Jordan.”

  She stopped, but didn’t turn back.

  “It’s just ice cream.”

  For the first time she doubted her instincts. Was she being too cynical? Had she let the world change her into one of those bitter man-haters? Rather, experience had taught her a few valuable lessons. There was a difference between bitterness and discretion.

  She spun on her heels and pinned him with an accusing eye. “You’re wasting my time, and yours, Major. I’m not interested.”

  He scowled, his brows lowered to create a deep crease. Tossing the ice cream on the stool with the tray, he closed the distance between them, seized her shoulders, and lowered his head to take her lips.

  Jordan stiffened at first, trying to fight the rush of heat assailing her, but his lips were so persuasive, so thorough in their lush assault, she quickly surrendered. The taste of him flooded her senses as he slid in just a touch of his tongue. Recklessly, she deepened the kiss, pressing her body to his. Her arms snaked around his neck, and her fingers curled into his thick hair.

  No. She wouldn’t give in. She couldn’t allow herself to be ruled by her impulses again. She pulled away. “Stop.”

  He dropped his hands from her back, his breathing deep and ragged. “I want you, Jordan. I’m only in Vegas for a week. I don’t know where I’ll end up after that. For me, there’s only now. And all I know is, I want you. No promises. No strings. No games.”

  She searched his face, staring at him for any sign of duplicity. But all she could see in his deep-brown eyes was need. Intense and unvarnished.

  Finally, she looked away. “I appreciate your honesty, Cole. But I’m not good at that kind of thing.” She brushed past him and darted into the break room.

  THE FLUORESCENT LIGHTS cast a jaundiced glow as Jordan wound her way through the casino after her break. The rumble and beeping of slot machines echoed the feeling in her chest. Agitated. On edge. She was either the smartest single woman on the planet or the stupidest person to ever sell Keno cards. She caught herself searching the casino for the major, but he was gone.

  The same frantic regret from the other night filled her. His kiss had bur
ned all the way down her body. Why had she told him no? What was she saving herself for? She’d been careful for so long, trying not to repeat her mistakes. But choosing a man she thought was a nice guy hadn’t worked out, either. Banker Bob had still dumped her for a showgirl. So, why not have a fling with some guy who at least admitted he only wanted a one-time deal?

  She’d assumed he’d been stationed at Nellis. But he’d said he was only in Vegas for a week. Maybe he was returning to combat? Maybe he wouldn’t make it back next time. The last thought made her chest hurt.

  She was almost due to clock out. All she had to do was make it through tomorrow, then she’d be off work for two days. But, she had to spend every free moment studying. Even tonight when she got home. Failing was not an option. As she strolled around the slots, her headache sharpened, shooting down to the base of her skull.

  She needed a clone. Just for this week. Just until she could get her degree. She dreaded going home and dealing with Mom. And what kind of ungrateful daughter did that make her? All her life her mother had been there for her. No matter what. She used to say, “You and me against the world, kiddo. We’ll make it as long as we stick together.” And she’d been right.

  But it was Cole’s words that played in her head like a looped movie trailer…all I know is, I want you. The raspy hunger in his voice made her breathing hitch.

  She missed sex. She bit her lip at how she’d almost told him she wanted him, too. To take her to his hotel room. Or his apartment on base, or whatever. Wherever. Anywhere. As long as he threw her on the bed and they went at it like horny teens. Just for a few wild, reckless hours.

  Sherri was right. A hot bout of sex would release the stress and help her study. Sex didn’t always have to be about love and commitment. Sex was really just about sex. The tension inside her stretched so taut she’d snap if she didn’t relieve some of the pressure.

  “Well, hi there, pretty thang,” a tall youngish guy grabbed her bottom.

  She knocked his hand away. “Get lost!” She couldn’t take it anymore. Was this what she had to look forward to for the rest of her life if she flunked her finals?