(Editor's note: Keep an eye on the datelines that start appearing on some of the sub-sections. The chapters of this story are going to start mirroring "Autumn 1945," only as told from Jim and Sarah's viewpoint, instead of Greg and Kate's. I'm writing this as an independent story but if you've read "Autumn," you'll start seeing some nuances of things to come.)

Chapter 9: Matters of the heart

Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ

Later that same morning

Jim looked up from his coffee as Sarah and Kate entered the mess. Around him, the men's breakfast conversation slowed, then stopped completely. He could have heard a pin drop. Then somebody wolf whistled and a round of applause broke out. Typical. He remembered the same thing happening the morning Kate walked into breakfast after she and Greg left a party at the Sheep Pen together. They both swore nothing happened that night but it hadn't really mattered the next morning. The boys loved a happy ending, even if it was only in their imagination.

Sarah met his eyes, head high, and her smile was for him alone. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled. He thought she looked every bit as incredible as she had the night before in the moonlight. He grinned back, knowing every eye in the tent was on them.

"Morning, Captain." Her voice was silk.

"Morning, Sergeant." He lifted his coffee mug in acknowledgement and matched her smile.

"Hey, Gutterman, thanks for letting me and Carol have the tent last night," TJ called. "Hope you found other accommodations."

"That wasn't a problem, was it, Jim?" Don chimed in. "Boyle said he saw you leaving Kate's tent this morning and that was after he saw Pappy and Kate come up from the beach at dawn, so I'm guessing you and Sarah had it to yourselves all night." His emphasis on the last two words was unmistakable.

There was some more appreciative whooping.

"Maybe if Boyle had woken up in his own bed, he wouldn't be lurking around, keeping track of where everyone else is sleeping," Jim snarled, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face. There was no sense trying to explain they'd slept fully clothed, his arms wrapped around her, and he knew it. Apparently she knew better than to argue, too. That was a good thing. Protests of innocence would only add fuel to the fire.

Greg walked in, helped himself to coffee.

"Who's keeping track of where everyone else is sleeping?" he asked. "That's a full-time job with you meatheads." He shot an inquiring glance at Jim, who didn't say anything, just answered with a lazy grin. Getting no further response, he put an arm around Kate's waist and squeezed her close. She leaned into him, a private smile on her face. Jim noticed Sarah's older sister had long since abandoned any pretense of denial when it came to her physical relationship with Greg. They didn't go overboard with public displays of affection but they didn't hide it, either.

He wondered how Sarah was going to handle being under the microscope that was the Black Sheep when they got wind of a consummated relationship. Never mind nothing had happened last night. Oh hell, who was he kidding. Something had happened all right. The feel of her skin still hummed against his fingers, her scent lingered in his mind.

He shook himself mentally. Once the guys got something in their collective heads, they were like dogs with a bone, refusing to give it up until the last bit of good had been chewed out of it. They usually weren't subtle, either. He found himself feeling a little guilty for the degree of teasing he'd subjected both Greg and Kate to when they first hooked up.

Sarah set her tray down across from Jim and slid onto the bench.

"Did you sleep well last night, Captain?" she asked formally. The look on her face was pure innocence. The guys were hanging on her every word and she knew it.

"I certainly did, Sergeant, the accommodations were excellent. And yourself?" He answered with all the formality of a Southern gentleman.

"I slept delightfully. Although I miss my 400 thread count sheets. And I think the housekeeping staff has been a little lax in my sister's quarters."

"If you're looking for room service, I bet Jim could deliver anything you need," TJ called from behind her.

"She's got a fetching glow about her, so I'm guessing he already has," Bobby Anderson added.

"Hey, Sarah," TJ said, "you must have really delivered last night cuz I've never seen Gutterman look so happy this early in the morning."

Sarah turned her head slowly and pinned him with a cool, green stare.

"Fuck off, TJ," she said pleasantly.

The men broke up laughing and the mess returned to its normal chaotic volume.

Yeah, Jim thought, she'd handled that just fine.

XXX

An hour later, Sarah walked to the flight line with Jim and the rest of the squadron. The roar of the Corsairs' powerful engines split the tropical morning air and mechanics and pilots yelled back and forth as they prepped for the day's mission.

"I'll be gone when you get back," she said. "There's a C-47 coming in at 0900 on the way to Rendova. I'll be on it when it leaves. Guess I gotta get back to the war. Raider misses me."

He turned, gloves in hand. His eyes were hot and dark and Sarah wished she wasn't leaving. Again. It seemed all her time was spent dropping in unexpectedly and leaving before she was ready.

"Take care of yourself, Red." He tipped her chin up and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow and held the promise of somewhere dark and quiet, somewhere time didn't matter. There were a few catcalls from the passing men and he broke off the embrace. "I'll see ya when I see ya."

She grinned, still feeling the echoe of that kiss.

"I love you, too, Captain."

He winked and was gone.

Dec. 21, 1943

Rendova, 137 Infantry HQ

Sarah's 21st birthday on the winter solstice passed almost without notice. Eddie and Charlie found out about it and there had been an off-key chorus of "Happy Birthday" when she walked into evening mess, then they'd drug her over to the Gryphon's Nest for a round of drinks. She hadn't minded. She loved the men like they were brothers. After the sniper incident on La Cava, Eddie had put two and two together that she was involved with one of the Black Sheep and a great deal of good-natured teasing had ensued. Several of the Gryphons of the 149th fighter wing still pursued her with enthusiasm but it was more of a game between them than anything serious and they knew it.

A small package was lying on her bunk when she got back from the Gryphon's Nest. She recognized Kate's handwriting immediately and tore open the wrapping. Inside was a small silk bag with a folded letter. Sarah opened the letter and read:

Dear Sarah,

Happy birthday! I hope your 21st year is full of wonderful surprises and the best of everything. Maybe it will see an end to this war and we can all go home and get back to normal. Whatever that is. I'm not sure either of us will ever really be normal again. Love and war do that to a person.

I'll wish you a merry Christmas now, too. I wish we could be together again for the holidays. Last year I was in England with the RAF and you were building bombers in California. I wonder what the new year will bring?

The Black Sheep are pounding the hell out of Rabaul right now and Greg expects they'll even be flying a mission on Christmas Day. I know your prayers are joining mine that our boys come back safely each time.

Greg has put in for R and R for the unit on Espritos between Christmas and New Year's. God knows they're not going to get much of a break otherwise. Can you join us? We'll all be happy to see you. Some more than others. TJ says Jim talks in his sleep and I gather your name comes up a lot. (She'd drawn a smiley face in the margin.)

Sarah could read the smirk in her sister's careful writing as clearly as if she were standing in the same room. She rolled her eyes.

Sarah, there's something important I need to talk to you about, and it could change everything I'm doing here, but I can't put it in a letter and I'm not even sure yet myself, so it will have to wait. Maybe if I see you on Espritos we can talk about it then. If not, please add me to your prayer list, too, because if what I think is true, is true, I'm going to need a lot of them. But keep Jim and Greg and all the Sheep at the top of the list. If anyone ever needed divine intervention to keep them in one piece, it's them.

Sarah paused, frowning. It was unlike Kate to be hesitant about anything. What did she mean, I'm not even sure yet myself? Kate was one of the most self-assured people she knew. She shook her head and kept reading. Her sister's next words knocked any previous concern right out of her mind.

Okay, Sair, the enclosed is probably a totally inappropriate birthday present, but I figure it's okay coming from me. It would be more appropriate coming from Jim, but I doubt he's the type to buy this sort of thing, even if he could. He'll probably enjoy it just as much as you and maybe more. (Another smiley face.)

Trust me, there's only so much lingerie a girl needs in a war zone. I only wore these once and not for very long. They were gifted to me from Laura H., who thought I needed them, but Greg likes black lace better (I am sure you wanted to know that) so they're just taking up room in my trunk and I suspect you can put them to better use (smiley face number three – her sister was positively enjoying herself) if you and Jim ever, well . . . whatever . . . and NO, I am not in on that bet! In fact, I think the boys have kind of given it up since Jim has pounded the daylights out of both Boyle and French for pestering him about it.

The week you were at La Cava after you got shot was French's week for the bet and he kept trying to collect and Jim kept telling him it wasn't any of his damn business, especially after your last night there. You know what those boys are like. It finally ended up in a brawl after you left. Greg had to break it up and it nearly put all three of them in the infirmary. It's a good thing men have such hard heads. They are always getting knocked together around here.

The stockings are from Jim. The boys ended up with a whole case of them in one of their black market deals and he asked me to send a pair along for you when I said I was sending you a birthday gift. Don't worry, I did not tell him WHAT I was sending you. I figure he'll see it sooner or later. Really, Sarah, I'm surprised the two of you have waited this long but honestly, it's better your first time wasn't on the beach. I guess we talked about that. Good luck finding somewhere the two of you can truly enjoy each other in private. Nothing takes your mind off the war like a night in the arms of a man you love.

I imagine your face matches your hair by now so I will sign off and let you unwrap your present.

Love, your sis,

Katie

PS. Greg says hello. He thinks you're good for Jim, although he'd probably never tell you that.

PPS. Meatball misses you and Raider both.

Sarah cautiously opened the drawstring on the pouch and tipped the contents onto her bunk. A pair of silk stockings slid out, followed by a swirl of white lace that resolved itself into a stylishly cut bra and panties. Sarah shook them out and held them at arm's length. Good lord. For no more than they were going to cover, she might as well not bother. She remembered a conversation with Kate, Dee and Laura regarding the relative importance of lingerie. At the time, she'd written it off as inconsequential. Suddenly, it became a whole lot more relevant.

She laughed at the irony. She was 21 years old and still wearing her sister's hand-me-downs. So Greg preferred black lace over white. She really did not need to know that. She also knew Kate had gained most of her decent lingerie from one of the nurses who had an extensive collection of the stuff and was happy to donate to the cause. She supposed she should thank Laura, too, the next time she saw her.

Shaking her head, Sarah carefully folded the garments and tucked them back into the bag. She had no idea when she'd have the occasion to wear anything like that but she had to hand it to Kate – she was looking out for her little sister's best interests, in a manner of speaking. Sarah wouldn't go to the proverbial ball wearing rags.

No, she thought, I'll go wearing lingerie that has more experience than I do.

XXX

On Christmas Eve day, Eddie breezed past Sarah's tent door and sent a small box winging onto the mountain of paperwork on her desk.

"Something for ya from La Cava!" he yelled in passing.

"Thanks, Eddie!" Sarah caught it just before it skittered off the edge. Her heart leaped at Jim's familiar slanting scrawl. They'd written to each other a few times, sharing the little bits of personal news that made up their days while the war crawled inexorably forward. It had been three weeks since Dr. Reese had signed off on her medical leave and she'd launched back into active duty. Three weeks since they'd seen each other.

It was always a thrill to see his words on paper. For a guy who really wasn't big on conversation, she thought he wrote with surprising eloquence. She could picture him sitting in his tent, writing this letter, threatening TJ with bodily harm for teasing him about it. He'd never do it in the Sheep Pen. She knew the boys wouldn't give him any peace there. In a unit where romances were fragile things when both parties lived on the same island, he was doing the unimaginable, carrying on not only a steady relationship but a long distance one at that.

She opened the box and extracted a letter. There was a second, smaller box under it.

Dear Sair,

She broke into a grin at his use of her nickname. It had sounded so natural on his lips that day in the hospital. Unexpected but right. Like him.

Miss you, darlin'. Katie tells me this was your golden birthday – 21 on the 21st. I wish I could have been there to celebrate with you. I trust you received the stockings. Katie assured me she would enclose them with her gift to you although she was so damned cagey she would not tell me what she was giving you, just said you would show me some time. Your sister is a real piece of work.

We're all headed to Espritos on Dec. 28 for 24-hour leave. It sure would be good to see you again if you can arrange to get away. It isn't much but that's all they'll give us. Lard wants us pounding on Tojo, not drinking our way through the officers' club. He's got us hitting Rabaul like there's no tomorrow. I got a bad feeling about that place, Red. We're spread too thin and boys are gonna start not coming home. We're all exhausted and Tojo's got some damn good pilots guarding that rock. We aren't getting the fresh meat right out of flight school any more.

But Greg convinced Lard we'd do a better job if we were well rested. Not sure how much rest any of this bunch of yahoos will get in 24 hours but we'll make the most of it. Last time we were there, half the squadron ended up in the brig. Yeah, you know which half I was in.

Your sister will be joining us, pretending to be Lt. Halvorson again. She's spent so much time in that Navy uniform it's a wonder she isn't drawing pay. I don't know how that girl has managed to keep her identity a secret from Lard this long and they've even met face to face a couple of times.

This present is for your birthday and Christmas. It's not anything fancy and you deserve better but shopping is a little limited here. The wire is out of a wiring harness from the Corsair boneyard here. The stone, well, you'll recognize it. It took longer to make than I expected, that's why I didn't get it to you in time for your birthday. I won't tell you how many times I burned my fingers on the damned soldering iron. It was made for fixing airplanes, not for this sort of thing. I can tell you one thing, Red, when this war is over I don't plan on taking up jewelry making as a career.

Her interest had reached the boiling point. She dropped the letter and pulled out the small box. Untying the twine, she tugged the lid off. Inside, something was wrapped in a piece of cloth. She pried it out and an object rolled into her palm.

Strands of fine silver wire spiraled around a roughly faceted teardrop-shaped green stone. The wire was soldered here and there to secure the stone and a bail was affixed to the top where a chain could be added to create a pendant.

No. Not a stone. Sarah caught her breath in recognition. It was a piece of the sea glass she'd had in her trouser pocket the day she got shot on Munda. She remembered Dee pouring the pieces into her hand in the hospital, then Jim taking the envelope with them in it. Leave it to him to create something beautiful out of scraps, she mused.

Still holding the sea glass, she picked up the letter again.

TJ says I talk in my sleep and apparently he finds this very entertaining. I don't want to have to knock the crap out of my own wingman (again) but it may come to that if he don't shut up. I'd rather it was you hearing me talking in my sleep. But if you were that close, we wouldn't be sleeping much anyway, trust me.

She felt a rush of heat at both his boldness and the thought of spending the night in the same bed with him. While that cramped night in Kate's tent had been pleasant enough, she'd frequently given her imagination free reign on what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms in a real bed. And wake up in them. And everything that went with it.

Love you, Red. You're in my thoughts constantly and you make my dreams hell. See you on Espritos? I'll be waiting.

Jim

She folded the letter and sat, thinking about Jim . . . and about everything that went with him.

The rays of evening sun slanted through the door of her tent and sparkled off the silver wire encasing the green glass as she turned it in her fingers. Her thoughts drifted to his touch, the feel of his mouth on her neck, that molten heat he'd ignited in her during their time on the beach.

She hadn't intentionally set out to keep her virginity this long, not like some girls she'd known who acted like their legs were welded shut while they sighed about vows and white dresses. Sarah just hadn't given it much thought. That wasn't to say the matter hadn't come up. There had been other boys and other kisses in the dark but those awkward fumbling and hesitant touches had been more irritating than arousing and it had never been a problem to say no.

Until now. Until Jim. Until she realized she didn't have a clue what she was doing. Not that that was going to stop her, she mused.

During basic training, there had been lots of late night talks in the barracks about what men and women did behind closed doors. Most of the girls were like her – innocent, curious and with little to contribute to the conversation. Some of the girls with more experience, though, were willing to talk. They sounded rather impatient with the whole process, like it was only something to be tolerated, a price paid for a boy to squire them to dances and on drives in the country. Sarah wasn't buying that.

Some of the other girls, though, smiled with quiet knowledge that wasn't meant to be shared beyond the privacy of those intimate moments before the war had torn lovers apart. Sarah found them more intriguing than the loudly spoken girls with their dramatic eye rolls and disdainful comments on boys who wanted them to do that.

Then there was what Kate had told her in a blunt, extremely one-sided conversation before she'd left La Cava. She'd sat, slightly dazed, while Kate told her all the things their mother had omitted from that long ago birds and bees lecture. Don't expect shooting stars the first time. It might be uncomfortable but just relax and go with it. If you tense up, it will be worse. I'm guessing he won't take long the first time, it's better that way anyhow. After that, it really does get better. Some of that depends on the guy, some of it depends on you. It's like anything else, you have to learn what you're doing. Sarah highly doubted it was going to be like anything else she'd learned to do.

A few drinks before might be a good idea but don't get smashed out of your mind – you really do need to be part of what's going on. You'll probably be sore afterward, don't worry, it goes away. Take your time, don't let him rush you. Slow is almost always better than fast, at least at first. Don't do anything you don't want to do. If you give your body to a man, he'd damn well better respect it. And Sarah, make sure he uses a condom. There'd been something in Kate's eyes when she said that, something Sarah couldn't read.

Then it was gone and her sister was continuing her litany of instructions with her typical brisk efficiency – Enjoy his body - give, don't just take. Learn what he likes, it works both way and it's not all about you. Well, except for the first time, then it really should be all about you. Giving pleasure is part of receiving it. It's okay to be noisy if you're in the middle of nowhere, otherwise keep a lid on it, you don't need the whole base knowing what you're doing. They probably will anyway but you don't need to advertise it. For God's sake, make sure you're really alone or things can get more interesting than you planned - tent flaps have ties for a reason. The two of you will figure out the rest of it by yourselves. Sarah, I never thought I'd say this but Jim really loves you. He'll make it right.

With a firm mental shove, Sarah pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, although they refused to stay there. She sighed. She needed to go see Major Taylor about a 24-hour pass. Then it was time to keep up with correspondence.

XXX

"Letter for you from Sarah, Katie!" TJ called out, winging the envelope through the door of her tent.

"Thanks, TJ," she returned, then turning in her chair to Meatball, she pointed at the envelope lying on the floor. "Get it!"

The terrier trotted over, picked up the envelope and brought it to Kate. "Good dog. Give." Meatball released the letter. She opened the tin of dog biscuits on her desk and tossed him one.

Dear Kate,

You're right, that was the most inappropriate birthday gift ever! I can't believe you would give your little sister something like that. What in the world were you thinking? (She'd sketched a face that was both smiling and blushing.) All right. After our chat the last time I was on La Cava, I know exactly what you were thinking. Thank you for having my best interests at heart.

You are the lucky one, having a hospital full of nurses to loan you whatever you need in the line of clothing. There are nothing but guys on this rock and I'm not about to borrow anything from any of them. My dress uniform just hangs here, not much call for wearing a skirt and pumps.

By the way, did Boyle ever figure out what happened to his pants? I am still wearing them. They do fit well and are in much better shape than anything you have ever loaned me. I suppose you could tell him I have them and he's not likely to get them back – I doubt he will come unglued since Greg or Jim could take him with one hand tied behind their backs.

Back to your gift - I'm sure Jim will thank you for it. I expect it is the sort of thing he would appreciate. Although I have no idea when that will happen and it's not exactly the sort of thing one should talk about in a letter anyway so don't expect a full written report if it ever does. I have enough paper work to keep up with without adding more to it.

Speaking of nothing but guys on this rock, Jack Harrison (you've never met him but he is the handler who took care of Raider after I got shot) has a new dog and boy, is she something else. She is a Belgian shepherd. She is out of parents who were imported to the States from Malines, Belgium, before the war. They call her the malinois variety of Belgian shepherds. I have never seen a Belgian before but after this mess is over and we all go home, I have to find one. She has power and brains and nothing stops her. Raider thinks he is in love but she will not give him the time of day.

I've cleared leave with Maj. Taylor and plan to meet you lot on Espritos Dec. 28. There's a transport due here that afternoon so it will probably be evening before I get there. Go ahead and start without me. I know if there is alcohol involved, you will.

See you then, love you,

Sarah

XXX

He missed her with an ache that was almost tangible. He wanted to watch her working Raider, to see the heat build in her eyes when he touched her and to hear the humor in her voice when she told off one of the boys for crossing a line. He wanted to take her someplace private and dark and show her what that beautiful body was capable of. He could taste her mouth, feel the silk of her skin against his, feel her yield to him, her body becoming one with his. Thinking about that had caused him more than one sleepless night. TJ had finally learned to keep his mouth shut, though, which was a good thing.

But mostly, he just wanted to be around her, sharing whatever the moment brought. He'd watched Greg and Kate often enough to appreciate the ease with which they shared one another's space, the unspoken communication that passed between them. He and Sarah never seemed to be together long enough to reach that point. Or any other point.

The letter was waiting for him after the mission. He recognized her curvy, reckless handwriting instantly.

Dear Jim,

Thank you – thank you – thank you! The pendant is beautiful. I wish I was there to kiss you for it. Sea glass and airplane wire has never looked so amazing. You have wonderful hands. Take that any way you want. I mean it.

Well, hell, he thought, that wasn't going to make sleep come any easier.

Thank you for the stockings, too. I can't remember what happened to the last pair I had or if I ever had a pair over here. It's been so long since I wore anything but boots and fatigues covered with dog hair I really can't remember what wearing silk stockings is like.

My birthday was not a huge celebration here, although Eddie and Charlie and some of the other guys made me go for a round of drinks at the Gryphon's Nest.

He felt a twinge of jealousy at this, but reminded himself she was free to drink with anyone she chose. It wasn't like she was going to sit in her tent like a nun when they weren't together.

Well, THEY had a round of drinks. I had two. You know me, the lightweight. Besides, someone had to be sober enough to drive their sorry asses back to the base.

You'll be pleased to know I haven't slugged anyone or shot anyone lately, although I almost ran over one of the 149's mechanics with a jeep last week. He's fine. He had good reflexes. Raider has bitten a few more bad guys. We have both managed to stay in one piece in the process. I don't know where they're going to send us next. Rumor has it they're sending us to clear Kolombangara after the first of the year. The K9 teams will be part of a big offensive there. I have a feeling Raid and I are going to be traveling a lot.

I think of you every day, Jim, and pray constantly for your safekeeping. I talked to some of the pilots from the 149 and the Rabaul missions sound brutal. I know they've flown a few of them with you and they speak very highly of the 214. They're good men at the 149 although maybe they go a little more by the book than the Black Sheep. What am I saying - everyone goes more by the book than the Black Sheep.

Please don't think about me when you're up there in that plane. Keep your mind on doing whatever it takes to stay alive. You're always with me, in my heart, although sometimes it's hard to make you stay there. When you end up in my dreams, I don't get any sleep. The Indians at home used to say when you wake up tired, it's because you were awake all night in someone else's dreams. If that is the case, I don't think you are getting any sleep either. I think I must be talking in my sleep, too. Raider has woken me up a couple of times, he sticks his nose in my armpit and shoves. Effective. I am lucky I don't have to explain anything to a tent-mate.

I'll see you on Espritos. I figure I'll find you guys just by looking for the biggest party or the biggest fight.

All my love, yours,

Sarah

She'd sketched a caricature of Raider in the cockpit of a Corsair, complete with goggles and a long scarf, on the bottom of the letter.

XXX

Dec. 24, 1943

Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ

"We'll go up again tomorrow. I don't like it any better than you do, but Lard is the one calling the shots, not me." Greg shuffled the recon photos into a quasi-neat stack and tossed them back onto his desk. "They're gonna keep sending us after Rabaul until something breaks. I don't know if it's going to be us or Tojo but that's the only real estate we're going to be seeing for a while."

Casey shoved out of his chair. "I'll go tell Hutch and Micklin they won't be getting any time off to decorate a Christmas tree. We're still up for R and R on the 28th, right?"

"You got it," Greg confirmed. "Make sure it's posted on the mission board."

Casey disappeared out of the tent. Jim showed no sign of leaving his chair. He topped off his whisky and studied the tumbler.

Greg recognized that look. "What's on your mind?"

"Women."

That wasn't surprising. In the months since forming the 214, he'd talked these boys down out of more trees than he could remember when it came to women. None of them were choir boys and that caused no end of trouble. On an island where women made up a relatively small percentage of the population, they seemed to cause a disproportionately large amount of problems.

Greg supposed they came to him for advice because at age 35, they considered him an expert on all things female. Some days, he thought maybe he was. Other days, he wasn't sure he knew any more about women than the boys did at age 20 or 22. He had a feeling whatever was eating at Jim had nothing to do with any of the girls on La Cava.

"You want to narrow that down?"

"Sarah."

Silence. Meatball trotted in and sprawled on Greg's bunk. Terrier looked exceptionally pleased to have it all to himself.

"Jim, you gonna tell me what's on your mind or are we just gonna sit here and drink?"

Jim took a long sip of Scotch and said, "You ever slept with a girl who's never . . ." He choose his words carefully. " . . . never been with a guy before?"

Greg looked up in surprise. Of all the possible directions he thought this conversation might go, this hadn't been one of them. He topped off his own glass.

"I thought you two . . . come on, are you honestly telling me you didn't . . . that she's never . . .?" He left the question open-ended.

"I ain't telling you nothing." Jim's wry grin said it all. "Just asking . . . to get your perspective on a few things."

Greg shook his head. He had watched the romance bloom between his executive officer and Kate's sister with the comfort level of someone watching a live grenade rolling toward him. While he thought Sarah might be one of the best things that had ever happened to Jim, he knew if things went sour between them, Kate would go after Jim like a rabid coyote for any real or perceived hurt he had caused. She was fiercely protective of Sarah, although Greg personally thought the younger Cameron could hold her own through whatever life threw at her. Both girls were a lot alike in that regard.

But so far, it was working. In fact, Jim's endless pursuit of anything in a skirt had screeched to a stop the day Sarah stepped off that transport with that big dog at her side. In spite of being stationed hundreds of miles apart, they were making a go of this relationship, although apparently not to the degree he and the rest of the boys had assumed. At least not yet.

What impressed him the most was Jim's complete reversal when it came to the Black Sheep's habit of morning-after gossip. The boys couldn't pry anything out of him beyond a few self-satisfied grins when it came to anything he and Sarah had done the night of the bonfire. This, from the guy who never held back details when it came to talking about his latest conquest. The whole squadron thrived on re-living the interludes they shared with the nurses and their conversations never lacked for detail. Either there weren't any tales to tell or Jim had finally realized there was more to enjoying a girl's company than using it to boost his ego the next day. Surprising as it was, Greg figured it had to be the latter. A guy would have to be dead not to feel the heat that sizzled between those two. There were tales Jim wasn't telling. He'd bet on it.

"Yeah. I have," he said, answering Jim's original question. "Once or twice. You?"

"I don't know as I ever have," Jim mused. "Couple of times they claimed they hadn't before, but they seemed pretty familiar with the process, if you know what I mean." He took another long drink. "Lord, Greg, I don't want to mess this up. It never mattered this much before."

Greg wondered what Sarah Cameron had done to bewitch his exec so thoroughly. He thought back to the day he'd met her sister, nearly six months ago. He'd been a goner the minute he looked into Kate's hazel gray eyes for the first time, even though it had taken him a while to realize it. Love had a way of sneaking up on you from the last place you'd expect it. He'd never have thought a virgin farm girl from North Dakota turned Army K9 handler would be the one who stole Jim Gutterman's heart but he didn't have a lot of room to talk. His relationship with Kate, who worked for the Associated Press, was damn near sleeping with the enemy by his own standards.

"Never thought taking a girl to bed would be this complicated." Jim laughed, then sobered. "So when we . . . I don't want it to just be a tumble on the beach. She deserves better."

Greg racked his brain for the right words. None of the boys had ever come to him with this problem before. He'd settled disputes over guys pursuing the same girl, administered medicinal Scotch to soothe broken hearts, knocked apart fistfights that stemmed from one guy getting too friendly with another guy's girl, lectured the squadron about conduct becoming officers and gentlemen and had a few one-on-ones regarding the boys' responsibility for birth control. But this was a new one. Given his history with women, he doubted Jim was looking for advice, just a sounding board.

"As long as one of you knows what you're doing – and I presume you do - you'll be fine."

"I think I got that part figured out," Jim chuckled, his familiar confident grin back in place.

"Don't rush it. You only get one first time, so make it count. You two looked pretty cozy the night of the last bonfire, she's not going to tell you no much longer."

"She didn't tell me no that night," Jim said. "I told her no."

Greg choked on his whisky.

"You? Told her no?" he sputtered.

"Yeah." Jim drained the contents of his glass.

"That's got to be a first. Wait, I'm gonna need more to drink." Greg reached for the bottle.

Jim's voice was edged with humor, like he couldn't believe it himself. "We were down on the beach and she wasn't exactly telling me to stop, but then she said she'd never . . . and hell, I didn't think the beach was the right place to . . . you know. So we didn't."

"God, Jim, I didn't know you had that much self-control," Greg said honestly. "And I'd put money on it Kate's had a talk with Sarah about this, so she may know more than you think. Kate is very . . . thorough."

Jim raised his eyebrows and propped his feet up.

"You gonna tell me more?"

"I'm not telling you anything. I think we're even up. You know neither one of those girls are exactly . . . shy." Greg allowed himself a smile that had Jim chuckling. Greg lifted his glass in a toast. "If Kate knew we were having this conversation about her and Sarah she'd have both of our asses."

They were still laughing when Meatball lifted his head and woofed.

"Who'd have both of your asses?" Kate's voice was bright as she swung into the tent, carrying a bottle of Scotch. "Nothing personal Jim, but I really don't want yours, no matter how nice Sarah thinks it is. Here." She set the bottle down on Greg's desk with a thump. "I need to get that out of my tent."

"Katie, you're looking lovely today." Jim tipped his hat hastily and ducked out. Greg took the most expedient route. He swept Kate into his arms, and made her forget her question.