Night Maneuvers

by Jillian Burns

  Mitch raised an eyebrow at her. Sanders wasn’t a bad guy. A bit competitive, but mostly harmless.

  Her expression hardened, and she turned back to Sanders, who still held her hand. “Buy me a drink, Major?” She jumped off the table and sidled up next to him.

  Sanders grinned. “Sure thing, uh…you’re going to think this is a line, but you look familiar. What’s your name, darling?”

  Mitch smirked. Sanders didn’t recognize her.

  “Alexandria.” Mitch winced as Hughes tried fluttering her eyelashes. It appeared as if she had something painful in her eyes.

  “What’re you drinking, Alexandria?” one of Sanders’s buddies asked.

  “I’ll take a JD, clean. And make it a double.”

  Sanders’s buddy took off to get her drink.

  “That’s a hard drink for such a soft woman, Alexandria.” Sanders’s overt flirting knew no shame as his hands came to rest on her waist.

  Mitch curled his fists to keep from interfering. What was it to Mitch if she slept with the guy? Or all three of them, for that matter. Besides, he knew good and well she could throw a mean punch. He’d seen her defend herself in worse situations. Like that night in Guam when he’d gotten revenge for the practical joke she’d played on him…

  But she’d been in her camos then, and her steel-toed combat boots. He shook his head. Not his problem. Those heels of hers were lethal enough.

  Mitch cleared his throat and tapped Sanders on the shoulder. “Uh, if you could move your little party somewhere else, I’d like to finish my game.” He gestured to the shot he’d missed on the pool table.

  “Sure thing, Monk-man.” Sanders gave him a malevolent grin before backing away, with Hughes still in his arms.

  Mitch clenched his teeth, but smiled back at Sanders. Let the guy gloat. He wasn’t worth a formal reprimand, even if Mitch did long to kick his lily-white butt.

  “EXCUSE ME,YOU MISSED THE SHOT, it’s my turn.” Alex couldn’t tolerate Sanders’s hands on her another second. She twisted out of his hold, stumbled in the heels again, and maneuvered herself across the table from Mitch. She tried to strike a sexy pose like Jordan had taught her. Shoulders back, chest out, one hand on her hip…

  “You got back problems, Alexandria?” Mitch glanced up from retrieving his cue stick.

  She opened her mouth to give a biting reply, but Sanders’s buddy returned with her drink. “Thanks.” She snatched it from his hand and downed the double shot in one swallow.

  The guys had followed her around, and Sanders stepped close and put his hand just below the small of her back where her thong strap was. She jerked and barely refrained from grabbing his thumb and twisting it from its socket. She wanted to make Mitch jealous, but if Sanders didn’t keep his hands to himself, she was going to elbow him in the gut.

  Mitch moved around the table, rubbing his bristled jaw. His facial hair was only slightly darker than the sun-bleached hair on his head. Just like the hair on his chest and arms, and…down there, too? “Excuse me, Alexandria.” He stood beside her, gesturing to the table. “Are you going to play or not?”

  Appalled at her straying thoughts, she snatched up her cue stick, lined up her shot, and sunk the ball.

  “Jeez, McCabe, you must have lost your balls in that bet to let a woman beat you,” Sanders taunted.

  “As a matter of fact—” Mitch drawled.

  “Why don’t you shut the hell up?” Alex straightened and spun to face Sanders.

  Sanders barked out a laugh. Ignoring her, he still addressed Mitch. “You such a wuss you let a woman fight your battles now, too?”

  Fury churning in her gut, she stomped her stiletto on Sanders’s instep.

  He hollered like a kid and bent over to grab his foot. “What the f—”

  “Maybe next time you’ll keep your wiseass comments and your hands to yourself.”

  “Hughes!” Mitch grabbed her arms from behind and pulled her away. “Sorry, Sanders, you know what a temper Hughes has.” Alex could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Hughes?” Sanders glared at her while he held his foot. “This woman is Captain Hughes? I thought Hughes was—”

  “Thought I was what?” She tried to launch herself at him again, but Mitch wrapped his arms around her chest and squeezed her to him. “Let me go.” She struggled to be released.

  “Calm down and I will,” he said between grunts as he dragged her out of the club into the hot, dry desert air. “He isn’t worth a demotion.”

  “Let him report me!” She quit struggling once they made it to her Mustang, but Mitch still held her tight, his muscled arms like a band of titanium around her rib cage.

  “Come on, Hughes. You think he’ll want to explain that injury to his C.O.?” Mitch’s Tennessee drawl sent an ache straight to her core. Her chest rose and fell in deep gulping breaths, adrenaline still rushing through her veins. She became aware of Mitch’s forearms just under her breasts, and she could feel his breath along her temple. Every inch of his hard body pressed against her back, enveloping her.

  She looked down to study the masculine hands that had featured in more than one erotic dream these last dozen years. They were rough worker’s hands, with veins that stood out when he had them clenched, like now. Slowly, she ran one finger along a vein, then took his hand and moved it up to cup her breast.

  A deep moan escaped him and he leaned his head against hers. “Hughes, why are you doin’ this?” There was an edge of desperation in his voice as his other hand moved to cup the other breast and he pushed his thick erection against her butt.

  Desire and a deep sense of satisfaction spiraled through her. After tonight he’d never again think of her as just one of the guys. She closed her eyes and pressed back against him, covering his hands with hers. “You still think I’m not a real woman?”

  “What?”

  “At the wedding you said I wasn’t a real woman.”

  “Aw, Hughes.” Breathing harshly, he kneaded her breast over her dress and rubbed his fingers over one tight nipple. “I meant that in a good way.” She harrumphed, but his warm lips traveled down from her temple to the side of her neck, placing succulent kisses along the way. All else was forgotten.

  Alex tilted her head to give him access to that spot behind her ear. But why stop there? Why not do what she’d wanted to do for so long? She spun in his arms, fastened her hands behind his neck and covered his mouth with hers.

  At first he didn’t respond, tried to pull away, but within a second or two he half growled, half groaned and took control of the kiss, sweeping his lips over hers, plunging his tongue in to lap inside.

  At last. This was what she’d wanted for so long. His mouth moving over hers, his body pressed to hers. Her arms snaked around his shoulders, holding him like she’d never let him go. If it were up to her, she wouldn’t. And he felt it, too. Whatever this was between them was strong. She’d known it for a long time. Oh, Mitch. Yes.

  He yanked away, breathing fast, and wiped his hand over his mouth.

  She stared into his baby blues, so full of passion. Yes. That’s what she’d wanted. To make him notice her as a woman. To make him want her the way she—

  “Hughes, I can’t. Not now.” He let out a long breath. “I gave my word. I still have three weeks.”

  As if the spell had been broken, she blinked, dropped her arms from his shoulders, and stepped back. With a strange sense of detachment, she noticed his fancy watch glint in the moonlight. The haze of lust dissipated and a chill settled over her. What had she done? How could she have let herself go there? She’d almost believed he could have feelings for her.

  Of course he wanted to do her now. That’d been her goal with this prank, hadn’t it? She shook her head, acknowledging in her heart what her mind had known all along. He was only interested because now he saw her as just another female to warm his bed.

  She clenched her jaw and made herself snort. “I’m not going to sleep with you, McCabe.” She folded her arms. Twel
ve years of frustration welled up inside her. “Not now. Not in three weeks. Not ever.”

  4

  United States Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs,

  CO, September 1999

  ON CADET FIRST Class Alexandria Hughes’s first day at the Academy, her main goal was to make sure she didn’t walk inside the halls with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She couldn’t believe she’d actually been accepted. To a small-town girl from the Texas Panhandle, attending the Academy was amazing, a dream come true and scary as hell. But she would rather have had all her nails pulled out one by one than show it.

  After the swearing-in ceremony she stood on the field and watched all the other cadets saying goodbye to their parents up in the stands. Her parents couldn’t afford the plane tickets or the time away from the ranch, so she headed inside. She understood why they didn’t come, but it still gave her a pang to watch everyone else.

  As she turned in to an empty hallway, she was grabbed from behind, one hand clamped over her mouth while another guy pulled her hands behind her back and duct-taped them, then took her feet and carried her farther away, down another empty corridor.

  She fought them, struggling against them, kicking, bucking, trying to bite the hand over her mouth. Her hat fell off, and her neatly pinned bun came undone. She knew what was coming if she didn’t get away. But she wasn’t getting anywhere fighting like this.

  As hard as it was, she tamped down panic and quit fighting. Best to save her energy for an opportunity. They had to put her down at some point. But her heart was pounding triple time.

  “Back in Memphis we call boys who pick on girls punk-ass cowards,” a deep voice called from behind them. His smooth Southern drawl made it seem as if he were just having a nice conversation.

  The upperclassmen holding her halted and switched their attention to the young cadet, and so did Alex.

  With his arms folded across his chest, he leaned against the lockers with a nonchalance that bordered on cocky.

  “What’d you say, boy?” one of her captors asked.

  The Memphis madman pushed off the lockers and unfolded his arms. “I believe I called you punk-ass cowards.” He raised a cocky brow to match his grin.

  “Boy, you get the hell out of here and mind your own business,” warned one, but his hold on her feet loosened as he spoke. This was her chance.

  She kicked backward with her steel-toed boot and heard the satisfying crack of one captor’s knee, and his howl of pain. As he let go of her mouth, she turned and head-butted his nose as hard as she could. Yes! He was down.

  She turned to see Memphis man had the upperclassman on the ground, beating his face to a pulp.

  “Okay, that’s enough. Hey!”

  Finally Memphis looked at her, his dogged expression dissolving into a blank look of confusion. He glanced back down at the bloodied face he’d almost pulverized and then back at her. “You okay?”

  Alex blinked at the pure beauty of the man. Even in his desert camo fatigues and a buzz cut, he was all golden hair and light blue eyes.

  “Can you untape my hands?” She hated that her voice shook. It was just adrenaline kicking in, but she despised sounding weak in front of a classmate.

  “Sure thing, darlin’.” He flashed a smile that included dimples and Alex’s insides kind of flipped. Pulling a Swiss Army knife from his boot, he cut the tape open.

  Great. She hadn’t even been here a week and her hopes of being treated equally were fading fast. How could she win the respect of her classmates if she couldn’t fight her own battles? She had to be independent. She didn’t want some guy with a savior complex running interference for her just because she was female.

  As soon as the tape was cut she ripped off the rest of it, and started marching back toward the main building’s foyer.

  “Hey, wait up.” He jogged to catch up to her.

  “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Do what? Rescue you?”

  She stopped and faced him. “First, you didn’t ‘rescue’ me. Second, I don’t need you to meddle in my problems. I can handle myself.”

  He glanced behind them. “Don’t get me wrong, you did great, but I don’t know about you handling two of them.”

  Despite herself, she shivered. “You may be right.” She tightened her lips and folded her arms. “Thanks.” Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin. “But I need to take care of myself.”

  His brows rose. “Okay.”

  “Just remember that and we’ll get along fine.”

  He nodded and held out his right hand. “Mitch McCabe.” He was still smiling, still flashing white teeth and dimples. Despite the danger of what had just happened, his grin snuck past her carefully built defenses.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she shook it. “Alex Hughes.”

  As soon as she got back to her room, she sank down against the door with her arms around her knees and shook for half an hour.

  SHE THOUGHT SHE’D made herself clear to Sir Lancelot then. She didn’t need anyone. And despite her efforts to ignore the guy, it seemed like every time she fell behind on the obstacle course, or had to take an extra minute to get back up from falling down, he was there. Not offering a hand, but…just waiting with her.

  She told him not to. To go on, leave her alone. She was fine. Finally, he seemed to get the message. Twelve weeks in, between the rigorous military training, the academic curriculum and the killer athletics program, she was exhausted and almost ready to quit. Though she’d die rather than admit it, the strain was getting to her.

  After a worse than grueling day, when she’d failed at everything, she spent longer than usual in the shower, letting the hot water pound her sore muscles. When she got out, she wrapped up in a towel and padded out to the dressing room. She opened her locker and folded neatly in place of her panties was a pair of clean and pressed white men’s boxer shorts.

  She scanned the area, but she was alone. Someone had come in while she was showering and left again. Instead of creeping her out, the realization made her feel safe. Whoever it was, if he was going to harm her, he would’ve.

  Rumor had it if a female cadet found a pair of men’s underwear in their stuff she’d been officially accepted as one of the guys.

  As she unfolded the shorts a playing card fell out. It was the king of spades. But the back was a picture of Elvis. The card was from a Graceland souvenir pack.

  Alex smiled and shook her head. The king? Elvis? Memphis?

  McCabe.

  He was telling her she could do this. She was as tough as any man. And he had her back.

  If she hadn’t already, in that moment, Alex Hughes fell hard for Cadet First Class Mitch McCabe.

  United States Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, CO May 2000

  ALEX STOPPED AT McCabe’s door. Good, there was light underneath. She gave a brief knock and then let herself in. “Hey, Memphis?”

  “Hughes! Thank God.”

  A warm glow filled her chest at the delight in McCabe’s voice and face. To see her.

  He sat with his ankle crossed over his knee, banging a pencil on a spiral notebook like a stick on a drum. “Is that pizza?”

  “Our favorite, Mexican fajita with extra jalapeños.”

  McCabe tossed the spiral onto his desk, shot out of his chair and grabbed some barely used paper plates off the floor. “Let’s eat.” He set the pizza box on top of the spiral and seized the largest slice.

  The man was too distracting in a plain white T-shirt just tight enough to hug the contours of his chiseled chest. And was she crazy to find camo pants sexy? She had to stop thinking about him like this. He had a girlfriend.

  “You’re studying?” She hopped onto his desk, set the box down and snatched a slice for herself.

  He nodded. “Trying to memorize all those dates.” He gestured at the notebook under the pizza. “God, I hate all this history stuff. Who cares about some Roman emperor who ruled a thousand years ago?”

  She leaned f
orward to pull the notebook out from under the box. Trying to read the chicken scrawl on coffee-stained notepaper was a challenge. “Is this Western Civ? I like that class. The stuff about the Hapsburgs…? Totally revealing.”

  He frowned. “Hapsburgs?”

  “Yeah, women were just a means to gain power to them, the pigs.”

  “I must’ve slept through that part.”

  From the other side of the wall behind his desk came loud moaning and a rhythmic banging.

  McCabe groaned. “My neighbor obviously has no anxiety about getting kicked out.”

  She scoffed. “And you do?”

  “I have to get at least a ninety on the final exam or I’ll flunk this class. If that happens, I’m out.”

  “That won’t happen. We’ll associate each date with something interesting to you.”

  He studied the pizza on his lap. “Hughes. If I can’t hack it here, I can’t ask Luanne to marry me.”

  She stopped chewing, horrified. “Marry you? You can’t get married while you’re in the Academy.”

  “No, but I can the day after we graduate. Why do you think they have that chapel here?” He grinned and excitement sparked in his gorgeous baby blues.

  “McCabe. Seriously. You don’t want to tie yourself down at twenty-two. Don’t you want to go off and see the world first?”

  “Luanne and I’ve been going together since our sophomore year. She agreed to wait for me, so I can make something of myself. But I don’t know if she’ll wait any longer than graduation.”

  “Make something of yourself? What are you now, chopped liver?”

  “Come on. You know what I mean.”

  Hughes’s lips flattened. “All I’m saying is you’re a great guy. Your girlfriend should love you for who you are.”

  McCabe gave her his cockiest grin. The dimples appeared out of nowhere and hit their target with deadly force. “I’m a great guy, huh?”

  She lifted her foot to his shoulder and shoved. “Don’t get your head all swelled up.”

  “Nah, that’s the guy next door.” He jerked his thumb toward the wall.