Match Play

by Merline Lovelace

  Unfortunately, she had to eat those lofty words once back at the hotel.

  “I thought the tournament maxed this place out,” Dayna remarked as they entered the busy lobby. “I’m surprised you could get a room.”

  “I didn’t. I planned to bunk in with you. That, of course, was before I knew you and Captain Harper had progressed to the bubble-bath stage.”

  “Luke,” he corrected with a completely unrepentant grin.

  “Luke,” she echoed, her eyes dancing.

  Dayna intervened before the discussion deteriorated any further. “You can still bunk in with me. Luke has a flat just across the river, close to the RAF base.”

  “You sure? I could always camp out in Hawk’s suite.”

  The provocative smile that accompanied the suggestion drew a quick negative from Dayna, but Luke hiked a speculative brow. Interesting. Callahan had sworn some Ivy-League type was close to putting his brand on Gillian Ridgeway. Callahan had also vehemently denied any interest in the woman. Something told him Ms. Ridgeway might put a dent in Hawk’s plans—and in Luke’s.

  He hadn’t figured on letting Dayna out of his sight in the immediate future. Although he hadn’t formulated specific plans for another session like the one they’d engaged in earlier this afternoon, neither had he discounted the possibility.

  Just the thought of tumbling her onto the bed, of nuzzling the soft mounds of her breasts and stroking her long, lean flanks, constricted his breathing. He was contemplating various strategies for palming Gillian off on Mike Callahan when Wu Kim Li sailed out of the public room just off the lobby.

  “Dayna! You are here.”

  Several members of her entourage followed in her wake, including a big, broad-faced female who had to be sumo-mama. The woman’s black eyes were unreadable under their heavy folds of flesh as she and the others halted just behind Kim Li.

  “We heard you are sick,” the girl said, sounding more curious than concerned.

  “Something got to me,” Dayna admitted with a careless shrug. She didn’t so much as glance at sumo-mama.

  “You play tomorrow?” Kim Li asked.

  “I do.”

  “Hmm.”

  The Korean’s gaze flicked over Gillian, dismissed her as unimportant and fastened on Luke. Dayna cleared her throat and reclaimed her attention.

  “This is my friend. Gillian Ridgeway, Wu Kim Li.”

  Jilly dipped her chin in a polite nod and rattled off a phrase or two that widened Kim Li’s eyes and narrowed those of her handlers.

  “How do you learn Korean?”

  “I visited your country several times while I worked at the American embassy in Beijing. I know just enough to get from the airport to the hotel and order dinner.”

  “Ah, so. And how is it you are here now, in Scotland?”

  “I’ve come to watch Dayna play.”

  Kim Li looked a little put out that Jilly hadn’t listed her as a main attraction. “It is good she recovers from her sickness, then.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I still have a few kinks to work out of my system,” Dayna said with deliberate blandness. “I might have to sign up for a massage at the spa.” She let her gaze slide past the golfer to the woman standing behind her. “You’re lucky to have your own masseuse traveling with you.”

  Kim Li nodded but didn’t offer her assistant’s services. Just as well. Dayna’s plans for the woman didn’t include getting naked around her.

  Nor, it appeared, would she be getting naked with Luke. Not tonight, anyway. Suppressing a sharp bite of disappointment, she made for the elevator.

  Once back in her room, Luke packed up and prepared to depart but informed the two women he’d return in an hour or so. “I arranged it with Callahan earlier. No room service or banquet food for dinner. I’m taking you both to a place I know. Very quiet, very private, with prime Scotch Buccleuch beef.”

  Whatever that was. He left Dayna wondering.

  He left Jilly wondering, too, but about an entirely different matter. Plopping onto the sofa, she curled her legs under her and pointed an imperious finger at her friend.

  “You. Sit. Talk.”

  Sighing, Dayna sank into the overstuffed armchair. She knew what was coming. Jilly wore an unmistakable, give-me-all-the-gory-details expression. Sure enough, her friend cut right to the chase.

  “Start with that hunk of prime American beef who just left. And don’t try to convince me what’s between you and Luke is as much business as pleasure. You’ve never mixed business with pleasure before.”

  “And I damned well shouldn’t be mixing the two now. It…complicates…the op.”

  “Forget the op for a moment. Talk to me about Luke Harper. From what you told me, he hurt you pretty badly back in the day. Why have you let him into your life again?”

  Good question. Dayna wished she had a satisfactory answer. Grimacing, she tugged off the scrunchie holding her ponytail and finger-combed her hair.

  “I told you the truth earlier. We started off just playacting for the cameras. Then…well…”

  “You got hot, he got hungry and you jumped into a gardenia-scented bubble bath,” Jilly supplied when Dayna hesitated. “I can understand that. I’d probably do the same if a stud like Harper offered to scrub my back. Or any other portion of my anatomy. What I don’t understand yet is how you feel about him outside the bathtub.”

  “I wish I knew,” Dayna said glumly. “I keep telling myself it’s just sex. No strings. No commitments. Exactly as we agreed.”

  “You negotiated the matter beforehand?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Jilly gave a low whistle. “You’re tough, girl. And very smart.”

  “Make that very cautious. Luke and I went down this road once. Took a long time for the scars from that trip to fade. We both agreed to be more deliberate this time.”

  “So how’s that working for you?”

  Dayna dragged a hand through her hair again, twisting the strands into a cable. “Most of the time, I think I’m in complete control, that I’m playing the game by the rules we agreed to. Then Luke will give me one of his damned grins or go into his macho, protective act or feed me butties and…”

  “Feed you what?”

  “Fish-and-French-fry sandwiches. Local delicacy. You’ll have to try one.”

  “If you say so. Back to Luke feeding you…”

  “He does something like that, the rules start to blur and these nasty little ‘what-ifs’ sneak into my head. What if I want more than a bubble bath? What if I start to tingle at just the sound of his voice? What if a sky flaming with red at sunset makes me ache to share the sight with him? Worse, what if I start to need him again?”

  “What if you do? You’re not college kids anymore. You’re older, wiser and have both achieved success in your chosen fields. Nothing says you can’t make a relationship work this time.”

  “I’d agree, except for one fact. Luke loves the air force and that big, ugly plane he flies.”

  “Yeah, I kinda got that impression.”

  “He chose the military over me before,” Dayna said with a flicker of the old hurt. “I’m not sure he wouldn’t make the same choice again.”

  Jilly had to stop and think about that. She was on shaky ground here. She’d never fallen for anyone as hard as Dayna had for Luke all those years ago. Not for lack of opportunity, certainly. She’d tumbled in and out of puppy love often enough as a teenager and experienced exuberant passion in college. Her four-year stint with the State Department had also yielded some interesting possibilities, including the dark, intensely handsome Foreign Service Officer who’d served as Charge d’Affaires at the U.S. Embassy in Beijing.

  Then there was Wayland Olmstead, the lawyer she’d been dating off and on for the past few months. He kept dropping hints about what a great Washington couple they’d make, as if that was the be-all and end-all of his life’s ambition. Jilly had told him several times she wasn’t in love with him. Wayland, bless hi
s self-confident soul, honestly believed her feelings would change given time and the right moves on his part. All he had to do was chip away at her.

  Kind of like she kept chipping away at Hawk, she realized with a guilty start. She wasn’t sure why she was so determined to make him see her as the woman she’d become. Or what she’d do about it when he did. She suspected she’d be just as confused and uncertain as Dayna at that point.

  “Does Luke have to choose?” she said after a moment. “Couldn’t he—and you—have a career and each other?”

  “Oh, sure. Like that’s going to work. With him stationed in the U.K. or Diego Garcia or Guam for a year at a time, me taking off for parts unknown with little or no notice.”

  “You could make it work,” Jilly argued. “Look at Nick and Mackenzie. Or my parents. For years they juggled careers, undercover ops, kids, dogs, iguanas. And what about the other OMEGA operatives who’ve made the recent transition from single to married. Cyrene and Luis? Diamond and T.J.? Slash and Mallory?”

  Dayna conceded the point, but insisted it was really moot at this juncture. “Luke and I aren’t anywhere close to the transition stage yet.”

  “You sure about that? He sounded pretty territorial a time or two this afternoon.”

  “That’s just the take-charge, macho-military in him.”

  “You think so, huh? Might be something you two should discuss at dinner.”

  “We two? Don’t you plan to eat with us?”

  “I’m planning to crash.” Locking her fingers, Jilly stretched her arms above her head. “I barely dozed on the flight over. The time change is catching up with a vengeance. I hate to do this to you, Rogue, but I need to appropriate your bathtub and one of those queen-size beds.”

  “They’re all yours.”

  The half-timbered posting house Luke had chosen for dinner was on the outskirts of St. Andrews, adjacent to the stone bridge that spanned the River Eden. The Romanesque spire dominating the village of Leuchars thrust into the sky on the far side of the river. Water flowed dark and swift between the banks.

  The table they were seated at gave a great view of both river and village—and of the RAF fighters gliding in for a landing at the air base. The Tornados were mere specks in the sky when Dayna spotted them. Outlined against the swiftly setting sun, their silhouettes grew larger and more distinctive until they sank from sight behind the buildings lining the opposite riverbank.

  Once the sun went down, a different breed of aircraft would roll out of their hangars and take off into the night. The reminder of Luke’s chosen profession brought her conversation with Jilly forcibly to mind.

  Dayna brought it up after the waiter had taken their order for a full-bodied French Bordeaux.

  “We haven’t had a chance to talk about our, uh, bubble bath this afternoon.”

  Luke folded his arms on the linen-draped table. He’d spruced up during the quick trip to his flat. His red knit polo shirt and bomber jacket had been replaced with an open-necked shirt in crisp white cotton and a herringbone tweed sports coat.

  “Why do we need to talk about it? I thought you wanted to keep things casual?”

  “I did. I do. It’s just that…”

  Dammit! How did she back herself into this corner?

  “Casual doesn’t always stay that way. Take tonight, for example. This dinner.”

  She waved a hand, encompassing the linen-covered tables, the flickering votives, the river flowing with the swift, rippling pull of the tide.

  “You don’t have to romance me.”

  “Yeah, you made that clear.”

  He kept his tone light, but Dayna was sure she detected an edge.

  “This isn’t just for you, Pud. I thought Gillian might enjoy a little local atmosphere. What’s the story with her and Callahan, by the way? Does she know she’s got the man tied up in knots?”

  Dayna snatched at the change of topic. “Did Hawk tell you that?”

  “Nope. In fact, he went out of his way to deny it. But he wants her. Almost as much as I want you.”

  Her breath left on an audible whoosh, but the waiter appeared with their wine before she could respond to the deliberate provocation.

  “Are you ready to order?” he asked after decanting the Bordeaux and presenting it to Luke to sniff and swish.

  “I am. How about you?” His bland smile told Dayna he knew exactly how far he’d thrown her off-kilter. “Want to try the filet of beef? Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

  “The filet it is.”

  She passed her menu to the waiter along with an order for a house salad and tender white asparagus as a side dish.

  “About Hawk and Gillian,” she said firmly when he’d departed. “There’s nothing going on between them.”

  “Not yet,” Luke agreed, raising his wine goblet. “What shall we drink to?”

  He was doing it on purpose, Dayna realized. Deliberately changing directions with every other sentence to keep her off balance. And doing a damned fine job of it, she conceded as she tipped her glass to his.

  “Let’s drink to the men and women you fly with,” she said, thinking of Alan Parks and Gabe and Dweeb.

  And Luke, in all his incarnations. The cocky young student pilot who’d had to choose between Dayna and serving his country. The older, more experienced aviator who put his life on the line every time he flew his unarmed bomber into a hot zone. The lover who’d stormed back into her life and stirred up needs and wants she’d thought long dead.

  “May you come home safe after every mission.”

  His eyes grave, he nodded. “Back at you, Pud.”

  The toast precipitated a dramatic change in mood.

  The sexual combativeness and uncertainty that had dogged Dayna since bumping into Luke on the street outside her hotel finally dissipated. He, too, seemed to lose his edge. For the first time, they relaxed and enjoyed each other’s company.

  Over succulent beef and asparagus so tender it fell off the fork, Dayna learned more about his life and the missions he flew. She opened up about her job at the Outdoor Wilderness Center and shared expurgated details of various ops she’d worked for OMEGA.

  The mellow mood stayed with her through the scrumptious dinner, two glasses of wine and a dessert of bread pudding swimming in raisins and brandy sauce. It dissipated fast, however, when they walked out into the starry night and Luke gave her the choice of spending the rest of it at his flat or having him camp out on the sofa in her hotel suite.

  “There’s a third choice,” she countered with a sudden catch to her breath. “I could sleep in my bed, and you in yours.”

  “Not an option.” Cupping her elbow, he steered her toward his car. “I told you, I’m not letting you out of my sight until this is over.”

  “And then?” she asked as he opened the passenger door for her.

  “We reopen negotiations.”

  The door thudded shut. Luke rounded the rear of the car, slid behind the wheel, keyed the ignition.

  “Which is it, Pud? Your place or mine?”

  “Yours.”

  No strings, she lectured herself sternly as she keyed his cell phone and left a message for Jilly that she’d made other arrangements for the night. No complications.

  Unless they reopened negotiations.

  She knew before she shimmied out of her clothes and straddled Luke’s hips there was no “unless” anywhere in the equation.

  Chapter 13

  The subconscious kindling of nerves and energy Dayna always experienced before a major competitive event woke her just before dawn.

  She lay still for a moment, adjusting to the strange bed, the unfamiliar surroundings and the heavy arm draped over her waist. Then the realization that the crucial focus of her mission—getting the Wus aboard a plane to the States—was fast approaching pumped a spurt of adrenaline into her veins. When she tried to wiggle out from under the deadweight, however, the arm tightened and drew her into a solid wall of warm flesh.

  “Luke.”


  She waited a beat and tried again.

  “Luke, I need to get it in gear.”

  A sandpapery cheek rubbed against hers. He mumbled something inarticulate but didn’t budge.

  “Harper.” She added an elbow. “I have a ten-ten tee time.”

  This time she got a grunt and an irritated grumble. “Plenty of time.”

  “Not if I want to loosen up on the driving range and spend a little time on the putting green. I need to get back to the hotel, change and collect my gear. Unhand me, sir.”

  Still grumbling, he eased his hold. Dayna abandoned the comfy cocoon of covers and made for the bathroom. When she emerged some time later, the bed was empty.

  Luke’s absence gave her a chance to look around. Since they’d had more urgent matters on their minds last night, this was Dayna’s first real look at his private world.

  The bedroom was typically male—no frills, no fuss: a king-size bed covered with a russet-colored duvet; a leather easy chair; a large-screen TV on a corner stand; functional miniblinds screening the window. A wardrobe stood against the far wall, the mirrored doors ajar. One half of the wardrobe contained civilian clothes. Luke’s uniforms took up the other.

  Chewing on her lower lip, Dayna surveyed the green Nomex flight suits hanging alongside sets of camouflage BDUs. Next to them was a row of short-and long-sleeved blue shirts, a formal mess dress in a zippered bag and Luke’s service dress uniform. The blue jacket displayed rows of colorful ribbons, shiny captain’s bars and silver wings. The shelf above held his garrison and flight caps. Highly polished boots and shoes marched in precise order below the uniforms.

  But it was the flyaway bag on the floor of the wardrobe, next to the boots, that riveted Dayna’s attention. She had only a vague idea of its contents. Aeronautical charts, no doubt. Emergency supplies of cash and medicines in case the crew got stranded at some forward location. Luke’s sidearm. Whatever he needed to take off at a moment’s notice and remain deployed for long periods.

  The discussion with Jilly replayed forcefully in Dayna’s mind. Could Luke harness his career so it fitted with hers? Could she do the same?