Chapter 10: Taking flight
Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ
0300 hours
She glowed under his touch. Strong hands pressed her onto the blanket, lean, hot muscle against bare skin. She could smell the faint trace of shaving lotion hanging in the darkness, blending with the clean scent of his skin. The solid beat of his heart echoed in her blood as his mouth claimed hers. His. She was his. She gave him her body and took his in turn.
Warm fingers squeezed her shoulder and the scent of coffee filled her senses. The trace of shaving lotion remained. Kate sat up in a confused tangle, her heart thumping. Greg perched on the edge of her bunk, illuminated by the dim flame of a lantern. He was in a flight suit, holding a mug of coffee. Her hand flew to her chest, felt the reassuring fabric of her nightshirt. A dream. It had just been a dream. Damnit. The dreams had started after that day on the beach and they were getting progressively worse. Or better. She'd always been a glass half full kind of girl.
"Morning, sweetheart." He was grinning, voice brisk. Dear God in heaven, had she been moaning out loud? A few more minutes and she would have been. She hoped he couldn't hear her heart pounding.
"What's up?"
"Another early call out. Casey said you liked it so much last time, I thought I'd wake you up myself."
She rubbed a hand over her face and smothered a yawn.
"You know how to show a girl a good time, Boyington. First you throw me in the ocean, now you're dragging me out of the rack at zero dark thirty. What's next?"
The look on his face told her he was considering several possibilities. He set the coffee on her desk.
She shoved at his arm. It had no effect.
"Get out of here so I can get dressed."
"When are you going to stop being so modest?"
She stared at him. He was really too much at this time of the day. He was too much at any time of the day.
"When are you going to start being a gentleman?"
"You wouldn't know what to do with me if I was a gentleman."
"I think I'd manage." She fought to keep the residual emotion from the dream from flooding her cheeks. She knew exactly what she wanted to do with him.
"Briefing in 10," he said, standing up.
"Thanks for the coffee." That was safe ground.
"Anything for you, Cameron." He walked out.
She watched him go, fingers clenched on the mug. If he'd known what she was thinking, he wouldn't have left, she would have guaranteed it.
XXX
She was smiling in her sleep. I stood there for just a minute, watching her, wondering what was on her mind. Funny, most people jump when you wake them up in the middle of the night. She didn't. It was almost like she expected me. If the damned war hadn't been knocking on our back door, I would have made sure that smile stayed on her face even after she woke up. - GB
XXX
A few days later
Somewhere over the Solomon Slot
The patrol was uneventful, which in Black Sheep terms meant the Japanese fighters had been both expected and dispatched with ease. The 214's birds came through the dogfight with minimal damage and the men headed back to La Cava in high spirits. Even TJ's plane wasn't smoking badly enough to warrant more than the usual concern, so Greg wasn't surprised when radio chatter turned from damage reports to other topics.
"Hey guys, wanna start a pool?" Boyle's voice was loud and clear.
"On what?" TJ came back.
"How soon Pappy and Kate are gonna log some beach time."
"You blind, Boyle? We were just out there a couple of days ago," Greg returned. He knew exactly what they meant but wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Not yet.
"That's not what I meant and you know it." Boyle was undaunted. "We don't think either one of you can hold out much longer."
So, Greg thought, it had changed from who to when. It had become clear over the last few weeks that who was a foregone conclusion. The boys were convinced, by merit of Kate turning them down repeatedly, that she wasn't interested in any of them and only had eyes for him.
Privately, Greg thought the assumption of any heavy romancing was a little presumptive. The most physical thing the two of them had done so far was splash around in the water, although the timing of that afternoon's horseplay had been perfect. He owed Dee Ryan a favor for orchestrating the whole thing and made a mental note to send the girl a bottle of the 214's finest. Casey said Dee appreciated good Scotch nearly as much as Kate. In any event, the romp on the beach had given him an opportunity to appreciate both Kate's company and her curves without any pressure of being alone together. And they were hardly ever alone together. That was part of the problem.
They'd had a few minutes the night he rubbed the charley horse out of her leg but he'd kept that to himself. The guys would have a field day with it if they found out and he wasn't about to set her up for that degree of torment. Not that she couldn't handle it, he didn't doubt that. But because he didn't think she should have to.
There were the nightcaps – now routine - which the boys did know about. And the random miscellaneous ways he kept inventing to spend time with her. Which the boys knew about, too, because someone was always interrupting them. If he ever wanted to be truly alone with her, he'd have to take her somewhere away from the base. Or completely off the base.
"What are you waitin' on, Greg?" Jim drawled. "We all seen the way she looks at you. You ask and she ain't gonna tell you no. Hell, you don't even have to ask. Turn on that Boyington charm and you could have her wherever you wanted."
"I foresee a night of heated passion soon," Anderson said.
"What else do you meatheads see in your crystal ball?" Greg asked, playing them out. They'd say things to him upstairs they wouldn't have the guts to throw at him once they landed.
"We figure since you ain't had any female company in a good long while, you'll be able to keep up with her," Jim said.
"At least at first," French added.
"Let us know if you need us to take care of her while you recover," TJ offered.
"You're gonna need a lot of stamina to keep up with a girl who looks like that, Pappy," Boyle said.
"Damnit Boyle! Do I look dead to you?" Greg chuckled. The younger men were well aware of his reputation with the opposite sex but they never missed a chance to remind him of his age. They took particular delight in it now since they'd decided it was only a matter of time before Kate ended up in his bed. He shook his head. Boys their age focused entirely too much on the physical act. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but the art of a deliberate seduction began a long time before the clothes ever came off. And by doing so, yielded a degree of pleasure few of them had realized.
"Not yet, but I bet after she gets her hands on – "
"Knock it off, don't you know better than to talk about a lady that way?" he snarled in mock annoyance. "Try thinking with your other heads for once. Maybe you'd get more than one date that way."
As the planes came in for landing at La Cava, he allowed himself a slow, private smile. He had a few things in mind and he wouldn't rush them. Although the thought of her in his arms, warm bare skin against his, made him wonder what the hell he was waiting for, too.
That same day, early evening
Kate chanced a shower in the Black Sheep's facilities and was rewarded with rare privacy. She didn't mind the boys' presence but sometimes a girl liked to shower without being regaled with tales of conquest, either achieved or anticipated. She supposed she should feel flattered they felt comfortable enough around her not to censor their stories but sometimes, too much knowledge was, well, too much knowledge.
Putting away her shower things in her tent, she contemplated the rest of the evening. She desperately needed to write to Sarah. Her sister was a much better correspondent than she was. Her letters came with regularity, unlike Kate's hit and miss correspondence in return, proving once again that people in the communications field are often the worst communicators.
Kate knew a lot more about Sarah's job with Douglas Aircraft in southern California than Sarah knew about what Kate was doing in the Solomons. Kate thought might be for the best. Sarah was younger by two years and Kate felt a degree of responsibility for being a good role model. That was becoming increasingly easier said than done. She could only imagine Sarah's green-eyed surprise if she knew the reality of her assignment here. Having her leg massaged by the unit's CO while she was wearing little more than a towel and a smile was not exactly an easy thing to explain to her kid sister. She decided she wasn't even going to try.
Of course, all Sarah had to do was pick up a copy of any daily metro newspaper and find Kate's stories, so she felt a little better about that. Sarah might not know everything that was going on in her sister's personal life but her professional life tended to be splashed across the front page on a regular basis. Sarah would feel slighted if Kate didn't bring her up to date on her personal life, however. The two remained close, even though separated by thousands of miles.
Kate sighed. Maybe she would have time to knock out a letter before Greg showed up for a nightcap. The last time she'd seen him, he and Casey were immersed in stacks of paperwork that had both of them looking cross.
The nightcaps were a routine now. Sometimes Greg came to her tent, sometimes she went to his. Kate hadn't mentioned them to Dee, accidentally on purpose. She was pretty sure her friend's mind would be quick to create something out of nothing if she knew the amount of time she and Greg spent together in the evenings. It was always perfectly above board and if one of the other boys stopped by, which they often did, there was no hint of impropriety - just two people and a bull terrier, enjoying a drink or three at the end of the day and talking about the war.
There's nothing going on, she'd told Dee a few days ago. There wasn't, was there? Really? She appreciated his easy friendship and looked forward to their time together, any time of the day. Sure, he helped her with her stories but half the time, their conversation went off the rails and they ended up talking about things that had nothing to do with her formal assignment there.
If his smile was a little warmer and his laugh a little huskier than casual friendly conversation warranted, well, she wouldn't deny the undercurrent of . . . something . . . that twisted around her when she was near him. It wasn't like anything was actually going to happen in either of their tents, was it? She viewed both hers and Greg's tents as relative safe zones because they were nearly as public as the Sheep Pen in terms of foot traffic. There was always someone coming or going. As long as the other boys were around, she felt safe.
Safe. Ha. That was completely the wrong word. She never felt threatened by him. Far from it. The closer he was, the better she liked it and she suspected he knew it. The only safety issue that arose was her own unpredictable reaction when he looked at her. A grin, a wink or God forbid, the casual brush of his hand, and her emotional response teetered dangerously close to becoming physical. If she was driving him crazy, he was returning the favor.
There was nothing going on.
Who was she kidding?
There could be something going on. She could hear Dee's voice. The implication was clear. There would be something going on if she would let it.
Spending time with Greg – in the Sheep Pen, on the flight line, in one another's quarters - was slowly starting to pull her heart out of the tangled emotional mess that haunted her since England, but some part of her still shied away from any sort of involvement. Sort of. She wasn't exactly holding him at arm's length.
She sat down at her desk and rolled a blank sheet of paper into her typewriter.
Dearest Sarah, I apologize again for not writing more often. This new unit has come with a learning curve and is not without its distractions (more on those later). The living conditions are a little rough, hours are unpredictable and the unit is absolutely fascinating. You wouldn't believe some of the things that go on here. It seems no matter how often I sit down to write you, someone interrupts -
On cue, Greg knocked on her tent frame and walked in. She looked up, puzzled. He was earlier than usual for a nightcap. The sun was barely beginning to set.
"You know," she said, "it's customary to wait for permission after you knock, in case the person doesn't want to see you."
"I didn't think you would tell me no, Cameron." The tone of his voice should have been a warning but that grin knocked her defenses into rubble without giving her a chance.
He was right, she thought, but he didn't need to act so damned sure.
"That depends on what you're going to ask," she said.
"Put your boots on and let's go."
"What's up?" She was immediately intrigued.
"You ask too many questions. And you're really bad at obeying orders, anyone ever tell you that?"
Kate looked at him suspiciously. His smile was open and unguarded. In fact, he looked entirely too pleased for her comfort. There was something about that smile. There was always something about that smile. If he ever understood what he could do to her with just a look, she was in trouble.
"It's my job to ask questions," she said with growing suspicion, but rummaged for the socks she'd just taken off, tied up her boots and followed him.
"Get in." He motioned to the jeep parked in front of her tent.
"What -?"
He held up a hand.
"Will you stop with the questions? Get in."
She got in, still protesting.
"I can't stop with the questions. Every time I'm around you, you do things that make me ask questions."
He answered her with a grin.
Within minutes they pulled up on the flight line. Hutch brandished a wrench in greeting.
"Your bird's ready to go, Pappy." He winked at Kate.
Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. No. Absolutely hell no. For all that the Corsairs were large, they were a lot smaller than a C-47 and that was about the smallest aircraft she could tolerate.
"Thanks, Hutch. Get out of the jeep, Cameron."
She froze in place.
"No! Anything you have to say to me, you can say it on the ground," she sputtered. "I am not getting in that plane."
Greg took her wrists. She resisted but he pulled her out effortlessly. His fingers were hard and warm on her skin and her pulse quickened.
"This isn't about talking." A slow smile creased his face. Kate's stomach tumbled.
"No!" she protested. "Hutch! Help me!"
"Have fun, kids!" The mechanic waved without turning around as he walked away. "Don't stay out too late."
"I'm not getting in that plane," she repeated, still trying to pull free. Greg didn't let go. She fought anyway, on the principle of the thing. It didn't work any better than the day she fought against being carried into the water.
"What do you have against flying?"
"It's a flaw in my otherwise sparkling personality," she said, desperately trying to scramble backward. She couldn't move. He held her so easily it was ridiculous.
"If that's the only one, I can deal with it." The humor in his voice was chipping away at her resolve.
"There's not enough room for both of us in there."
Greg let go of her wrists and put a hand on each of her shoulders. She should have bolted. She couldn't move.
"Sweetheart, neither one of us is that tall. We'll fit."
Reaching behind her into the jeep, he pulled out a mae west and tossed it over her head.
"Do you want me to fasten the straps or do you want to?"
"You're crazy, you know that? Totally bat-crap crazy."
He was laughing openly now.
"I'll take that as a yes." He slapped her thigh and when she moved away indignant, he stepped behind her and reached between her knees to grab the webbing. With a practiced move, he hooked it, then snagged his own life vest from the jeep.
"Up." He jerked a thumb toward the wing and cupped his hands.
"No. I'll get in your way." Her voice was barely a whisper. She was trembling now and didn't know if it was from fear or something else.
Greg sighed.
"Getting in my way hasn't bothered you before, why the sudden attack of conscience?"
Kate's mind was spinning. She backed up hard against the wing and there was no room to move. Greg was so close he had to be able to hear her heart pounding. He scanned her face, lips curved in obvious amusement.
"You're really scared, aren't you? Of the plane? Or of me?" His voice was low.
She poked him in the chest with a forefinger.
"I'm not scared . . . I just don't like flying. It's . . . uncomfortable." She paused, then added, "And I'm not scared of you."
He reached up and closed his hand over hers, which had somehow attached itself to the front of his shirt.
"Come up with me, Cameron. I guarantee it won't be uncomfortable." The way he was looking at her promised she'd be trading one level of discomfort for another. He didn't need to know that. She glared at him.
"I'll get in this plane on one condition."
"Are you negotiating terms of surrender?"
"I'm not negotiating anything," she said defiantly. "We do this on my terms or we don't do it."
He broke out laughing.
"God, I hope you're not like this about everything."
The look on his face left her knees trembling. She was glad to feel the warm metal of the plane pressing against her back. She wasn't sure she could stand on her own.
Greg sighed.
"Name your condition."
"Use my first name."
It was a simple thing but it was driving her crazy. No one here ever called her K.C. The other boys called her Kate or Katie. Anderson insisted on calling her Katherine. Jim called her darlin' almost exclusively. But Greg only called her Cameron. Or sweetheart, which wasn't too bad, although he was usually being sarcastic when he said it. She wanted to hear him use her given name.
He didn't answer. Instead, he tipped her chin up with one hand, their faces now inches apart. His fingers were gentle and the unexpected intimacy took her breath away.
"Do you trust me?"
She drew a shaky breath.
"Yes." It came out as a whisper. It was that simple. She trusted him.
"Then up." He cupped his hands and lowered them. She stepped into them, he tossed her onto the wing and scrambled up after her. After he swung into the cockpit, she hesitated. He tapped the side of the plane.
"Let's go, Cameron, I'm not getting any younger."
Damn him, now he was doing it on purpose.
"You're impossible."
"I think we've established that. Are you coming with me or not?"
She clenched her teeth and swung in after him. His hands closed around her waist, their warmth sending electricity sparking through her as he guided her down. He was right. They both fit. After a few awkward moments to get her feet and legs out of his way, Kate settled herself comfortably, or as comfortably as she was likely to get, on his lap. Her heart throat was dry. Greg flipped the ignition switch. The engine coughed and died.
"Would it help if I got out and pushed?"
"Smart ass." He slapped her thigh, then wrapped his left arm around her waist. She leaned into the embrace without thinking, caught herself, tensed, relaxed. The heat of his arm pressing against her felt unexpectedly natural. He kicked the starter over again and this time the powerful motor roared to life. Sliding the canopy shut, he swung the plane out and lined up with the airstrip.
Kate closed her eyes.
XXX
This was insanity. And further proof that Greg had managed to override any good sense I ever had. I meant it – anything he had in mind, we could have done on the ground. Anything. The airplane was an excuse to drive me even crazier and I'd played right into his hands. The only good thing about this was that sitting on his lap meant I wasn't giving the whole flying thing a lot of thought. There's only so much a girl's mind can handle at once. - KCC
XXX
In the Sheep Pen, the men paused in their poker game as a plane roared overhead.
"Who's that?" Bob Anderson asked. It was unusual, although not unheard of, for anyone to go up this late in the day.
"Greg," Jim said. "He had Hutch do some fine tuning on his bird. Guess he took it up for a check ride."
Bob looked around.
"Where's Katherine?" Kate frequently hung out in the Sheep Pen in the early evening, working on an angle for her next story or chatting with the guys.
Jim cleared his throat.
"She's with Greg."
"But you said he – " Bob looked puzzled.
"I did. He did. She is."
"He took her up in his plane?" TJ was incredulous. "He hates it when we do that with the nurses."
"If you haven't noticed, Greg ain't much in the habit of asking permission."
"Huh. I don't think she likes flying much. Wonder how he got her in there."
Jim chuckled.
"He can be pretty persuasive when he sets his mind to it."
TJ folded his hand.
"Hey Boyle," he shouted across the room to where Bobby Boyle was lobbing darts. "I'm changing my bet. Move my date up by a week."
"Mine, too," Jim said. "Once Greg gets serious about this, she ain't gonna hold out much longer."
XXX
Kate's stomach plummeted as the Corsair overcame gravity and the world dropped out from under them. The sensation of parting from solid ground left her heart thudding against her ribs so hard it was almost painful.
"Kate." Greg's voice sounded in her ear. "Open your eyes."
She did. Her heart skipped a beat, both at hearing her name on his lips and at the spectacular view spread around them. The sky was cloudless as the sun started to sink over the horizon. Everything was tinged orange and pink, rimmed with azure. Sun polished the plane's wings to a glow and at this altitude, even the air seemed gilded. Below them, La Cava was a smudge against dark blue water. Kate swallowed. Looking down was not a good idea.
"You all right?"
"I'll live."
He chuckled. She would have slapped him if there'd been room to turn around. She settled for elbowing him gently.
"Don't you dare laugh at me."
"What is it exactly you don't like about flying?" he asked, dropping the right wing and pulling her close as she tipped toward him, his arm firm around her waist.
"All of it. The taking off part. The climbing part. The – eeep!"
He banked left, pulling her even closer as she slid slightly. The feel of his body against hers had taken her mind off the immediate crisis of being in a plane but she wasn't about to tell him that.
"Stop that! What's wrong with just flying level?"
"Level is boring." He put the plane into a climb. It responded with an immediate surge of power, pushing her back against him. Her hands clenched on his left arm and she was entirely too conscious of his breath, warm against her neck.
"Boyington, when we get back on the ground, I'm going to kill you."
He alternated between banking right and left, the plane dipping and rising through the molten light.
"So you want me to use your first name but you won't use mine? It works both ways, sweetheart." He leveled off. "Are you even breathing?"
"Barely."
"Oh, Katie, you are something else." He was laughing openly now, not even trying to hide it.
Her stomach did a slow roll. Just hearing him say her name launched a dozen sensations that had nothing to do with flying. She moaned softly, then bit her lip.
"You aren't going to be sick are you?"
"No. I'm fine. But I mean it. I'm going to kill you. How did I let you talk me into this?"
"It really didn't take much. If I'd known you were going to be that easy, I would have asked a long time ago."
"I am not easy!" She closed her eyes and pressed a hand across the bridge of her nose. "And you didn't really ask. You just . . . sort of . . . ordered."
Greg's fingers squeezed lightly along her ribs.
"Keep your eyes open. The sunset is beautiful."
"It would be just as beautiful from the beach."
"I'll remember that."
His voice was as molten as the light. She was trembling, fine tremors running just below her skin. She wasn't sure when the half-panicked adrenaline rush of flying had turned into the ignition of a slow burn that had nothing to do with being in an airplane and everything to do with being in an airplane with him.
He dropped the Corsair into a gentle dive and Kate gasped with the sudden jolt of weightlessness.
"Have you had enough?" He wasn't talking about flying and she knew it.
"No." She gritted her teeth. The pressure of his body against hers was a delicious torment. As much as she hated flying she didn't want this to end.
"Good." He leveled out, then put the plane through a series of maneuvers that left her both dizzy and exhilarated. She relaxed enough to stop going rigid every time they changed directions. She caught the rhythm of his feet and hands, guiding the plane's motion, and adjusted her balance to accommodate his movements. Outside the canopy, the world was a blaze of orange-tinged magenta smeared with violet and indigo. The speed, the light, the sensation of being in such confined quarters with him, the warmth of that hand, resting on her thigh -
"Still worried you're going to die up here?" His voice cut through her thoughts.
"Yes." She wasn't letting him off that easily.
"Liar. Your breathing is back to normal." He tickled the back of her knee.
"You keep doing that and it won't stay that way."
A low laugh.
"You're really not good at this."
"At what?"
"Pretending you hate flying."
"I do hate flying. I just don't hate . . . you."
"Nice. Still want to kill me for bringing you up here?"
"Not until you get me back on the ground in one piece."
As they circled back toward the island, Kate thought she felt his lips against the back of her neck, brushing along her hairline, ever so briefly. She caught her breath, uncertain. Then the sensation was gone, leaving only its memory on her skin, and he was guiding the plane in for landing.
She kept her eyes open as the wheels touched down, although she stopped breathing at about 500 feet. Greg spun the plane back onto the flight line where Casey was waiting, drumming his hands impatiently on the jeep's steering wheel.
"Whatever you had in mind, looks like it'll have to wait until later," Greg said as he killed the engine and pushed the canopy back. His hands were light on her waist as he guided her out. She waited on the wing while he climbed down, then let him lift her to the ground.
Casey cleared his throat.
"General Moore is on the horn for you, Pappy," he said. "I told him you were up on a, ah, test ride. He said he'd keep the channel open." Grinning at Kate, he added, "Hey Katie, how was it? Nothing like a little one on one at five angels, huh?"
"Don't you start!" she glared. "I thought you were nice."
He laughed.
"I am nice. Ask Dee."
XXX
In the com shack, Greg picked up the receiver.
"Yes, General, what can I do for you?"
General Thomas Moore's gravelly voice boomed through the line. Kate could hear him from where she was leaning against the door.
"Greg, I just got back from two weeks in Washington and found Colonel Lard coming unglued about this Cameron fellow he's posted with you. Personally, I've read his stuff and I don't see any problem but you know Lard. He's up to his eyeballs in Congressmen right now, so I told him I'd come over to La Cava and see what this fellow is all about. It won't be for a while, heaven knows I've got enough to keep me busy here, but you might want to give the guy a heads up about Lard. I know how those correspondents get when they think you're trying to push them around."
"Yes, sir, so do I."
"You tell him he's doing a fine job, no matter what's crawled up Lard's butt and died. The 214 looks good and that kind of press is well-received in the states. How's he getting along over there? Your bunch of renegades tends to be hard on the press corps."
Greg's eyes never left Kate's.
"Just fine sir, he seems to like it here better by the day. We'll look forward to your visit."
He broke the connection.
"We're gonna have company one of these days," he said. "You'll get to meet the guy who's been running interference for me with Lard since the start of the Black Sheep. Keep that in mind and try to be on your best behavior, Cameron." The look in his eyes told her he wasn't thinking about General Moore.
"I'm always on my best behavior," Kate said.
XXX
If Casey hadn't been waiting on the airstrip, I'm not sure how the evening would have ended. Maybe it was for the best that he was there when we landed. I'd more than stepped across Kate's line in the sand that evening and we were both still in one piece. I took that as a good sign. - GB
XXX
The next afternoon, Sheep Pen
Thirteen years wasn't a big deal.
Kate sat with a stack of photos in front of her, idly putting cropping marks on them before sliding them into the envelope for the courier. At the bar, Greg was deep in discussion with Casey. They'd started working on a black market deal after the mission de-brief 30 minutes ago and were still at it. She let her eyes drift over his backside, a view she never failed to admire when the opportunity presented itself. She followed the width of his shoulders down to his waist, imagining the ripple of muscle under fabric. The curve of his hip was particularly pleasing to the eye as he shifted to study whatever Casey was pointing at.
He's 35. He's your CO for as long as you're posted here. You have no business getting involved with him beyond a working relationship.
Oh shut up. She mentally shoved her conscience into a box and slammed the lid.
What did years matter? The age difference faded when she was around him. All it took was a look, a word, and she was drawn helplessly into his power. It didn't matter that she didn't want to get involved with another man right now. It had become too late for that at about 2,000 feet yesterday evening. She was involved, all right.
Kate picked up a photo of Hutch and Micklin, studied it, laid it down without marking it. Her mind refused to cooperate.
She didn't know how involved she was. The fact she'd gotten into an airplane with him without being drugged or tied up probably said it all. God. Men were confusing. Her mind slid back to the brush of his lips along her neck. Had she imagined that? No, there was no imagining something like that. Her body tingled at the memory.
"Enjoying the view?"
Kate jumped as Dee sat down next to her. She hadn't even heard the door open.
"What? I - ," she started, then regrouped, looked back to the bar. "Do you blame me?"
"Mmmmm," Dee replied. "Not one bit. It takes a special kind of skill to make a flight suit look that good."
Kate grinned. Dee had caught her fair and square. No wonder she was such a lousy poker player.
Casey looked up, saw Dee, smiled in greeting. Greg shifted, turning to look their way.
"Ladies," he said.
"Don't you pay us no never mind," Dee said, "just go back to whatever it is you're doing up there." She wiggled her fingers for him to turn back around. Kate could tell she was biting her lip to keep a straight face. Greg shook his head and leaned back over the bar, flight suit taut over the muscle of his hips.
"There. Don't say I never did anything for you," Dee said. "When are you going to do something about that?"
"About what?"
"About getting your hands on that?"
"Dee Ryan!" It came out louder than she intended.
At the bar, both men looked up. Dee dissolved in giggles. Kate recovered first.
"As you were," she said briskly, tone innocent. She glared at Dee and lowered her voice. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"
"Oh come on, the two of you are so attracted to each other you can't stand it. I don't know what's taking you so long."
"And what would you have me do about it?"
"Really, Kate? Do I have to spell it out? The beach? Going up with him in his bird?. Bet he took your mind off how much you hate flying. I bet he'd take your mind off a few other things, too, if you'd give him a chance."
Kate looked scandalized.
"You sound like Gutterman!" She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "He doesn't like the press corps, remember?"
"I'd say he's gotten over that. Besides, he doesn't see the press corps when he looks at you. Honestly Katie, the air temperature goes up every time the two of you are in the same room. Don't make this more complicated than it needs to be."
"It's not complicated. We're just friends." Even as she said it, the words thinned and blew away like smoke in the wind. They were beyond simple friendship now and she knew it.
"Yeah." Dee drew the word out into at least four syllables. "How long are you going to keep believing that? Honestly, you don't have to marry him – just, you know, let a guy show you a good time. How long's it been?"
"None of your business! You have a one-track mind. No wonder Casey always has a smile on his face."
Dee narrowed her eyes.
"Katherine Christine, you are the most oblivious girl I know. A man like Greg looks at you the way he does and you pretend you're just friends? What is wrong with you?"
Kate shifted uncomfortably.
"What's wrong with me?" she hissed. "I'll tell you what's wrong with me – there is no privacy around here. Last night I took a shower and spent most of the time talking with Don about the newspapers I worked for back in the States. TJ nearly walked in on me changing clothes this morning when he stopped to tell me about the briefing. It doesn't matter what I do – those boys end up in the middle of it. There's only so much I'm willing to share."
"I imagine Greg knows a few places the two of you wouldn't get interrupted."
"Yeah. Outdoors? On the beach? Like that has privacy written all over it." Kate's voice reflected her skepticism.
"It's very private!" Dee lowered her voice. "And making love outdoors is . . ." She trailed off, shrugged her shoulders and smiled.
"Yeah, I'm sure it is. Until one of the guys walks into the middle of it."
"Oh ye of little faith."
Footsteps heralded the men's approach. Kate rearranged her expression into something she hoped looked suitably innocent.
"Preaching a sermon, sweetie?" Casey bent to kiss the top of Dee's head.
"Preaching to the choir." Dee fixed Kate with a knowing look.
"Funny, neither of you look like choir girls," Greg said.
Dee burst into laughter and Casey joined her although it was clear he didn't get the joke. Kate glared at all three of them.
XXX
I meant what I said - Greg and I were friends. I valued his opinion and appreciated his help. He was always there when I needed him and frequently when I didn't. All the boys were making this assignment more than I'd ever imagined but he was going beyond that. If he would have stayed out of my dreams, I might have been able to deny the fact that our friendship was changing into something more than sharing nightcaps and story ideas. But when a man like that shows up in your dreams, you really can't ignore him. You really can't ignore a man like that any other time, either. - KCC