Chapter 13: Collateral damage

Nurses' quarters, Naval Hospital, Vella La Cava

"If I hadn't run into Jim on the way back to my tent and if he would have kept his mouth shut, maybe the boys wouldn't be so obsessed with what happened last night. Or didn't happen." Kate turned from the open window to face Dee. "They won't believe a word I say. They're all absolutely sure we slept together."

"You kind of did," Dee said with barely concealed amusement.

Kate scowled at her.

"I woke up in Greg's bed but that's as far as it went."

"You woke up in his bed and that's all that matters."

"You know what I mean! Were they this hard on you and Casey when you guys . . . you know . . .?"

"Mmm," Dee reflected. "They were way worse on him than me. They still are. They generally never let up on any of the guys who manage more than a one-night stand. I think it's their way of showing approval, even though they're a complete pain in the ass about it." She shrugged, then grinned. "See what you have to look forward to?"

Kate groaned. She wasn't sure she was up for a repeat of the scene during morning mess, especially since the boys' teasing had been based on nothing more than conjecture. It might have been easier to endure if it actually had a basis in fact.

"Just give me a beer," she said. "Please."

"I thought you were going to stop drinking." Dee opened the small refrigerator and pulled out two bottles. Moisture condensed on the amber glass when it hit the warm air. She handed one to Kate. "I still can't believe you fell asleep on him."

"Beer doesn't count." Kate popped the cap off and took a drink. "And it damned sure won't happen again!"

"Beer doesn't count for what?" Ellen walked through the open door. "And what won't happen again?"

"Kate's going to stop drinking but apparently that doesn't include beer." Dee turned back to where Kate was lounging against the sill of the open window.

"Sooooo," Ellen drew out the word and regarded her with sparkling eyes. "How was it? Do tell!"

"There's nothing to tell. Nothing happened," Kate said. She'd said that so much in the last 12 hours, it was becoming her automatic reply no matter what the question was.

"Do you expect us to believe that?" Ellen said. "That kiss was so hot it's a wonder the whole room didn't ignite."

Kate didn't say anything. She tried to keep her smile to herself and sipped her beer. Yeah. The kiss had been hot. She'd never been kissed like that in her life.

"You want to tell her or should I?" Dee asked. When Kate still didn't say anything, Dee sighed. "She's not lying. There isn't anything to tell. She fell asleep on him."

Ellen's perfectly tweezed brows shot skyward.

"You fell asleep? On that man?" She crossed the room in two strides and pressed her hand across Kate's forehead. "Are you all right? You don't have a fever. You're not coming down with anything, are you? Have you had malaria?"

"I'm fine. I do not have malaria. I was just really tired and I drank too much."

"You and Greg are impossible," Dee said, pointing her bottle at Kate. "First, you're two of a kind but it takes you forever to realize it. Then it takes you forever to admit you might be more than just –"

"Hey! If I remember correctly from your letters, it took you and Casey a while before you fell into his bed," Kate protested.

"That's beside the point – he had a girl at home and nothing happened between us – well, nothing much – until she was out of the picture," Dee said a little defensively. "And he fell into my bed, not the other way around."

"Aha!" Kate pounced. "And that is the point – you have a bed." She looked around Dee's room. "And four walls and a door. With a lock."

"That's really not required," Ellen said helpfully. "The beach – "

"The beach – here we go again." Kate rolled her eyes. "Sure, let's just try no walls or doors or locks and see how that works."

Dee and Ellen exchanged knowing looks.

"It works just fine," Ellen said. "And it's soooo much better than hurrying to get everything finished in a tent before someone walks in. I mean, if your guy wants to take his time and . . . well . . . " She blushed attractively.

"With Greg, that's a given," Dee said. "The way he looks at you, I bet he's given a lot of thought to taking his time."

"And then we want details." Ellen crossed her arms over her chest. "Lots of details."

Kate glared at both of them.

"Give me another beer."

Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ

Working in England, Kate had grown accustomed to seeing pilots return from missions in varying states of wear and tear. The Black Sheep were no different. While a successful mission achieved its goal without loss of men or planes, there was almost always collateral damage.

The 20 millimeter rounds from the Zeros or ammo from gun placements on the ground found weak spots and amplified the wear and tear on the Corsairs. Oil lines broke, fuel lines leaked, rudders sheared off, landing gear jammed, instruments failed and flak chewed through steel and glass alike. Just because a pilot set a plane down safely on the airstrip did not mean he got out of it in one piece.

When a round from a Zeke cracked the canopy on Casey's plane and showered the cockpit with metal and glass, he managed to land before losing control and careening off the runway. Greg and Jim drug him out and hauled him to the hospital to get stitched back together. Casey spent 24 hours in the ward before being released to administrative duty. His arm was healing but the flight surgeon hadn't cleared him to the active duty roster yet. In the meantime, a temporary replacement pilot was assigned to the unit.

Lieutenant Alan McNeil was trouble. While that could be said about the 214's pilots in general, McNeil took it to a higher level. Standing 6 feet tall, with classic Nordic good looks, he assumed – correctly – that women found him attractive. He also assumed – incorrectly – his looks gave him carte blanche with the fairer sex.

The Black Sheep didn't hesitate when it came to talking about their romantic conquests but they were altar boys by comparison to McNeil. He viewed women as little more than playthings for sexual gratification and it took less than 48 hours for his overbearing arrogance and coarse language to drive the nurses out of the Sheep Pen. This, in addition to his attitude in the air, gave the men another reason to dislike him.

"That boy's ego shows up 10 minutes before the rest of him," Don observed.

"Think one of us should take him down a peg, Pappy?" Jim offered.

"No," Greg returned. "He's only here until Casey mends. He's good upstairs and we need him."

"Upstairs ain't the problem," Jim grumbled. McNeil managed to insult his girl, Darlene, the previous night by asking if red was her natural hair color and suggesting several ways she could prove it. Dar left in an offended huff and took her friends with her. It was clear they weren't coming back. Fortunately for McNeil, Jim was on the flight line with Greg and Casey, discussing on-going parts issues with Hutch, or the problem might have been resolved then and there. As it was, female companionship in the Sheep Pen was non-existent now, something all the boys took personally.

In the meantime, they embarked on a mission to learn the details of what happened between Greg and Kate the night of Don's party. They were convinced she had slept with him, an assumption that seemed to be based singularly on the fact she'd admitted to waking up with him. The boys weren't about to let that go and Kate knew they had her back against the wall.

She'd woken up in his bed, but the boys, being the Black Sheep, enthusiastically assumed activity of a particular nature had occurred before they woke up together. They were not about to let repeated denials on her part change their mind and they ran with it every chance they got.

They pushed Greg mercilessly, too. He just glared at them and they dropped the subject. It was clear he meant it when he said a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. The boys could tell, however, that the dynamic between them had shifted. Although they both carried on like nothing had changed and they couldn't be caught out in any public displays of affection, there was no denying their relationship had gotten noticeably more intense. Since the war was doing its bloody best to ensure they had little time to spend alone together, Kate realized with frustration that status seemed unlikely to change any time in the near future.

The third night after McNeil's arrival, she was tending bar in the Sheep Pen. This wasn't a very demanding job since the patrons tended to help themselves, but it gave her a good excuse to spend time around Greg. Even though they were surrounded, as usual, by other men relaxing with drinks and cards at the end of the day, it was better than nothing.

"No. I mean it," Kate said firmly, tipping whisky into a glass and handing it to Greg. "Find someone else to sucker into a poker game. Correspondents don't get paid that much and I can't afford to lose. Again."

"Come on, sweetheart," he teased. "Maybe you just need more practice."

There wasn't enough practice in the world that would raise her poker-playing skills to his level and they both knew it.

"Not happening." That damn blue-eyed grin guaranteed she wouldn't be able to concentrate on cards. She laughed. "Take your drink and get out of here." At a nearby table, Jim was laughing openly. Kate's notorious poker skills showed no sign of improving, no matter how many times the boys talked her into a game. Greg and Jim took money from her with relentless delight on a regular basis. She shook her head and went back to polishing glasses.

McNeil stepped up to the bar.

"What can I get you?" she asked pleasantly. She'd been aware of him since he entered the building. His aura of condescending arrogance was hard to miss as he strutted through the room. She'd been so wrapped up with writing Don's story in time to send it out with this afternoon's courier that she hadn't socialized with the squadron much since McNeil arrived. Thanks to muttered comments from the boys, though, she'd picked up on the undercurrent of irritation that ran through the base where he was concerned. This was the first time she'd met him face to face.

He leaned on the bar and looked her up and down. His eyes lingered on her breasts.

"I'll have a double of you, honey," he said, "once on the bottom and once on the top." His tone left no doubt to his meaning.

Kate regarded him coolly.

"No. You won't," she said.

"Why not? I guarantee you and me could have a real good time. You belong to one of these flyboys?" He looked around the room, then back at her, lip curled in a sneer. "Or you just think you're too good for me?"

Kate put down the glass she was polishing.

"I know I'm too good for you." Her tone was flat. A wiser man would have backed off.

At a nearby table, Greg folded his cards and casually pushed his chair back. Kate was aware of the other boys watching and listening.

"You got an attitude on you. Is that any way to treat a guy who offers to show you a good time?"

"I don't remember telling you I was looking for a good time."

McNeil let his eyes run over her.

"That's what all you girls are looking for. Maybe you need to learn to appreciate a man's offer." He reached out and stroked the bare skin of her upper arm.

Kate knocked his hand away, her motion fast as a striking snake, slamming his knuckles against the wooden top of the bar. McNeil jerked back, his features etched with anger. She stepped out of his reach.

"Don't touch me."

"That's where you're wrong. Girls like you don't tell me what to do."

Kate's smile went feral.

"No, Lieutenant. That's where you're wrong."

McNeil's laugh was derisive.

"Pretty thing like you wouldn't last long out here without a man taking care of her. You must be servicing one of these boys, hmm? Maybe he wouldn't mind sharing with a buddy for the sake of unit morale. I could teach you a little respect in the process."

There was a sharp intake of breath from several of the Black Sheep. The tension was audible. Without looking, Kate felt Greg's eyes on her. She knew all it would take was a word and he wouldn't hesitate to administer the attitude adjustment McNeil had coming. But the unit didn't need another black eye on their record, literally or figuratively. She would handle it herself.

"Wrong again, Lieutenant," she said. "I don't belong to anyone. And who I service is none of your damn business. You're zero for two, I'd quit while you're ahead."

"I'm not the quitting type, sugar. You'll come around to my way of thinking."

"You touch me again and it'll be the last mistake you make on this rock."

Kate put down the bar rag and walked out.

"Mmm-mmm," McNeil leered, watching her go. "You boys got the hottest nurses in the theatre."

No one corrected him.

XXX

I had a bad feeling about this guy but we needed every pilot we could get. Until Casey got back on the flight roster, I wasn't in a position to tell McNeil to take a hike. I knew his kind. He wasn't going to listen to anything I had to say so I saved my breath. Kate would have asked me to step in if she couldn't handle it and she'd handled it just fine. To tell the truth, I kind of enjoyed watching her in action and it might be for the best that McNeil didn't know how things stood between us. I figured if we gave him enough rope, he'd eventually hang himself. I just hoped he didn't take any of us with him. - GB

XXX

Kate didn't mind the other boys' off-color jests because they all did it as easily as they breathed. If they didn't tease her about something, she wondered if they were sick. It started the night she arrived on La Cava and it hadn't stopped since. Only the topics changed. Their favorite was the night after Don's party and they pushed for details with an insolence that would have been considered harassment in any other situation. Coming from the Black Sheep, it was just part of their daily candor.

Bobby Anderson caught up with her on the way to a morning mission briefing.

"Katherine, you know how important morale is to a unit's success. The boys and I believe it would boost our morale greatly if you would be so kind as to regale us with the details of your night of passion with Greg."

"There hasn't been a night of passion!" Kate nearly spilled her coffee. "What part of nothing happened don't you understand?" she demanded, trying to sound stern. She'd stuck stubbornly with her nothing happened story, for all the good it was doing. The Black Sheep loved a happy ending, even if it was only in their imagination.

"All of it. If you are going to share relations with our CO, we think – "

Kate spun in front of him and jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. Bobby backed up. She poked him harder. He backed up again. She kept poking until he stumbled backward over a sandbag and ran up flat against the outside wall of the ops shack. The passing pilots laughed. Bobby didn't seem to be alarmed.

"You need to quit thinking. What Greg and I are doing is. None. Of. Your. Business." She emphasized each word with a jab of her index finger and had the satisfaction of seeing him wince.

"Ah-ha! You admit it! You are doing something!" He grinned with irrepressible good humor.

Kate was saved from coming up with any sort of response by Greg's appearance. He looked at the two of them and shook his head.

"Anderson, I don't know what you did but you might want to think twice before you do it again." He chuckled. Then turning to her, added, "Cameron, are you harassing my pilots again?"

"No." She tried to sound petulant but it didn't work, since she was laughing. "He started it. He's nosy and impudent."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I picked him for this squadron. He was up on misconduct charges for back-talking a superior officer. Hell, he still does it."

It wasn't just Bobby, Kate thought, as he held the door to the ops shack for her and made a show of bowing her in graciously ahead of him. If Jim wasn't reminding her that Greg needed his sleep at night, Don was teasing her over breakfast about hearing noises from her tent at 0200. And they played the age angle endlessly. Even as she stepped through the doorway, TJ wrapped a friendly arm around her waist.

"Hey Katie, I know you got a good thing going with Pappy, but if he ever needs a rest and you find yourself in need of, um, well, a younger man for an evening, I just want you to know I'd be more than willing to accommodate you."

Kate slid her arm around his waist and grinned up at him.

"TJ, if you weren't so cute I'd file harassment charges." She gave him a friendly squeeze. "Now leave me alone before I have to tell Beth you're hitting on me when she's not around."

That didn't faze him.

"I think we could work something out. Maybe the three of us – "

"Not a chance." She gave him a gentle shove and went to find a seat. She'd gotten so used to their teasing, it rolled off her like rain off a duck's back. Yeah. Greg was older than her but just the thought of his mouth and hands left her breathless, never mind the rest of him. She was starting to wonder if she'd ever find out about the rest of him. It wasn't like the war was going to slow down so either of them could make romance a top priority.

Even when it pushed the envelope of decency, which was most of the time, the Black Sheep's teasing was their way of showing they approved of her relationship with Greg. On the other hand, McNeil's blatantly sexual comments about her or any of the nurses were like nails on a chalkboard. Not only had he driven the nurses completely off the base, just knowing he was around made Kate look over her shoulder any time she was alone. She ignored him at meals and during briefings and avoided him beyond that. She refused to use the squadron's showers unless one of the other boys was there. If not, she made the longer drive to clean up in the security of the nurse's quarters. She worked, avoided McNeil as much as possible and enjoyed every moment she could steal with Greg, even if those moments always came with more company than either of them wanted.

XXX

It should have been so simple to find time when we could steal away to a private spot and just, you know, get to know each other better. But the war had other ideas. The men were flying insane missions, I had to deal with a replacement pilot who thought he was God's gift to women, Colonel Lard kept calling to threaten that he was coming to see me and somehow Hutch got the crazy idea I could help him with plane maintenance. This assignment got more complicated by the day. - KCC

XXX

One week later

1900 hours

McNeil strolled into Kate's tent without the routine courtesy of knocking. She looked up from her typewriter in surprise. It wasn't unusual for the men to drop in but he was the last person she expected to see. By now, he'd figured out she wasn't a nurse. He smiled. She didn't.

"You sure are a busy little thing. Why don't you take a break? Let's you and me go for a walk on the beach tonight," he said.

"Not interested," she returned bluntly and resumed typing.

McNeil was not inclined to take subtle hints.

"Bet I could get your mind on something else."

"Please leave, Lieutenant. These are private quarters and I'm working." Her tone was icy but to no effect.

Another shadow fell across the door as Jim stuck his head in.

"Everything all right here, darlin'?"

"Peachy." She slammed the carriage back on her typewriter. "The lieutenant was just leaving."

McNeil didn't leave. Jim didn't either. Finally, the tall blonde pilot turned and sauntered out.

"I'll see you later, sugar," he called.

"Not if I see you first," Kate muttered and went back to her story.

Outside, McNeil fell in with Jim as the two men made their way across the base.

"Can you imagine scoring with that one?" he said. "I don't know what would be sweeter - her mouth or her – "

"Here's some free advice," Jim interrupted. "Leave her alone."

"Why? You getting a little of that honey?"

"Nope."

"Then it's every man for himself, isn't it?"

Jim shrugged.

"It's your funeral," he said and walked away.

XXX

Dee stood amidst the rampant chaos of Kate's tent and looked for a place to sit. Stateside newspapers, Stars And Stripes, notebooks, two dictionaries, an Associated Press style book, a battered Royal typewriter, spare typewriter ribbons, pencils, fountain pens, ink, typing paper, carbon paper, photographs and various and sundry other items cascaded off the desk and onto the surrounding floor. A map of the Solomons was tacked to the mosquito netting, along with prints of Kate's favorite photographs. About one-third of the tent was still occupied with crates of Scotch and some newly acquired Australian wine. Kate had been sorely tempted to perform quality control on the latter.

Her bunk was pushed up along one side of the tent to make room for her desk. Clean laundry was haphazardly folded in an open trunk and recently washed bras and panties hung on a clothesline strung along the back wall. Kate didn't have a problem hanging the rest of her laundry on the communal lines between tents but she was having no part of airing her underthings in front of the male personnel. The indoor laundry line didn't really fix that problem, since the men were in and out of her tent on a regular basis but it was the principal of the thing. They usually had the decency to look the other way and pretend the bits of lace and silk weren't there. Usually.

A half-full fifth of Scotch sat on her desk. She and Greg had passed the bottle back and forth the previous night, joined by Casey. Since his arm was still in a sling, he'd been working overtime on the unit's wheeling and dealing. Lard's generosity with the supply line only went so far and the men had been finessing a deal involving Scotch for carburetors. If their grumbling had been any indication, the deal had hit a snag in the form of a supply sergeant on Espritos who was throwing a wrench into things. Kate found herself drawn into the intrigue of the unit's black market schemes, although her mind kept wandering down paths where she and Greg were alone. They did not involve carburetors.

"Honestly, Kate, how do you live like this?"

"Sorry, I gave the maid the afternoon off." Kate leaned from her desk and chucked a stack of books and papers onto the floor so her friend could sit in the other chair. "Until that ass McNeil leaves, this is where I spend most of my time. He can't keep his eyes off me or his mouth shut if I'm anywhere around. Greg says he's a good pilot and the squadron needs him but I'm about ready to teach him a little respect myself and see how he likes it." She flipped the cover of her notebook shut. "So see what you can do to get Casey back on active duty. Maybe he needs a little extra TLC, you're good at that."

Before Dee could reply, someone knocked.

"Hey, Hutch," Kate greeted the mechanic as he stepped in. He held out a tattered and grease stained field manual.

"Hey, Katie. Hi, Dee. Check out pages 172 to 180. That's what I've got in mind," he said. "Talk to you later."

"So . . ." Dee began.

Kate closed her eyes. She knew what was coming. Dee was just as bad as any of the boys when it came to trying to pry information out of her about Greg. Not that she wouldn't have shared things with Dee. She loved her like a sister. There just wasn't anything to share. And if there had been, she really wasn't sure how much of it she'd tell. A girl could keep a few things to herself, couldn't she? If it ever came to that?

Just then, TJ stuck his head in the door.

"Hey, Katie, briefing in 10. Oh, hi, Dee." And he was gone.

"For someone who has a tent to herself, I've never seen a place with less privacy," Dee commented.

"You got that right," Kate said. "There might as well be a revolving door for all the traffic that goes through here."

She'd long since given up on actually closing the door beyond dropping the mosquito netting at night. After Greg publicly claimed her at Don's party, she knew no one on the base was going to touch her. The men had become like brothers. Perfectly annoying brothers who delighted in teasing her every chance they got.

"So, have the two of you – " Dee began again.

Kate held up an admonitory finger.

"I know what you're going to ask." She paused. "Nothing has happened since the night of the dance. I'd tell you . . . if there was anything to tell."

Dee's eyes sparkled.

"It's kind of fun watching you act like there's nothing going on. Do you really think anyone believes that?"

"No," Kate admitted wryly. "But there isn't anything going on. It was just one kiss." She and Dee had gone over what had happened – or not happened – the night of Don's party, more than once. That didn't stop Dee from angling for more details every time she saw Kate. Sometimes Kate thought the boys must be putting her up to it.

"That kiss was not nothing," Dee said. "He kissed you like he owned you and you looked like you never wanted it to stop. By the way, Laura says keep the shoes and everything. She figures at the rate you're going, you'll need them again."

Kate did not see any opportunities requiring cocktail dresses and lacy lingerie in the immediate future but she didn't say anything.

"There was just one kiss," she said, trying to sound neutrally agreeable. "That's all. Nothing else. And apparently you and everyone else saw it, so everyone knows the same thing." One searing kiss that still scorched her lips and ricocheted through her body every time she thought about it. She paused. "Tell Laura thanks, I appreciate it, but there's a war going on, if you haven't noticed, and that's kind of our first priority."

"It doesn't hurt to get away from the war for a while now and then," Dee said. "Just for a couple of hours. Just to be alone with someone and forget about everything else but each other." She gave Kate a knowing look, then leaned forward and picked up the tattered sheaf of papers Hutch had delivered.

"Field Maintenance Manual for Vought 4FU Corsair? Is this your idea of light bedtime reading? No wonder you're sleeping by yourself."

Kate shook her head.

"Don't ask. Hutch has this crazy idea that since my hands are smaller than any of the mechanics, I could help them do some of the smaller maintenance jobs on the planes and save time while they work on the bigger stuff. I told him I'd read this section but not to expect me to understand any of it. And I'm sleeping by myself because . . ." She swung her arms outward to encompass not only her tent but the surrounding base and its occupants.

Dee just grinned.

"Katie, sweetie, that's no excuse. I keep telling you – there are miles of beachfront on this island. Go find some and use it!"

"Dee Ryan! If your mama heard you say that she'd roll over in her grave! Get out of here. I'm going to be late for the briefing."

XXX

Dee hit the nail on the head. We had no privacy. I suspected that bothered me more than it bothered Greg. It's not that guys want to make a public display of everything but I knew Greg wasn't hesitant to make it clear how he felt whether anyone was watching or not. Or maybe it was just my hang-up and I needed to get over it. It wasn't easy to focus on work when I was around him. A smile, a touch and I was ready to do something reckless, only I wasn't reckless enough for it to happen in that fishbowl of a base. - KCC.

XXX

Although they hadn't come out and said it, the Black Sheep came to an unspoken agreement to make sure Kate was never left alone after McNeil's arrival on the base. If she wasn't in Greg's company, one of the other boys was always nearby. While they had little doubt she could defend herself if the need arose, McNeil's attitude about women brought their sense of big-brother protectiveness to the surface. Kate appreciated this more than she was willing to admit. She didn't think the arrogant pilot would try anything but given that he had shown zero respect for women, it wasn't a chance she was willing to take.

She'd gone from trying to avoid showering when the other boys were using the facilities to preferring their company there. The security of their presence overrode any awkwardness created by the communal shower situation. It had become a fact of her life, like being awoken for an early mission by Greg or one of the other boys holding a mug of coffee next to her face. Unexpected, occasionally startling, but not entirely unpleasant.

It was Saturday night and several of the boys were getting ready for dates. She hoped that would keep their minds on their girls and off of her but that turned out to be wishful thinking.

"Hey Kate, wanna give me a hand? I need someone to wash my back," Don called.

"Get TJ to do it!" she answered cheerfully, pulling the chain to let sun-warmed water rinse off soap and shampoo.

"There's a line out here, hurry up, Katie, unless you want me to come in there and help you," TJ called.

"Wiley, you're as bad as Jim," she snapped back.

"Really, Kate, I'm sure we'd both get done much quicker," TJ continued. Even though the men weren't about to challenge Greg, that hadn't stopped them from teasing her about her options.

"You mean, you'd get done quicker," she retorted. "Girls like to take their time."

"Then we'd better get started, I have to pick up Beth at 1700."

"How about it, Kate, maybe you have a date tonight, too? I saw Greg come down here earlier," Casey teased.

"Seriously, Katie, aren't you done yet? I'm in a hurry. And don't hog all the hot water."

"Okay, okay, I'm done! Not that a cold shower would hurt any of you."

She toweled off hastily and pulled on underwear and shorts. Without pausing to put on her bra, she yanked a clean T-shirt over damp skin and wrapped the towel around her hair. She tossed her soap and shampoo into her bucket, jammed her feet into canvas shoes and exited the shower stall.

"It's all yours," she said to TJ, who was tapping his foot impatiently.

Back in her tent, she contemplated the evening. She could go back to working on her current story, which was what she should do. She could go have a drink at the Sheep Pen, which was what she'd like to do. Or she could find Greg and see what he was doing, which was what she really wanted to do. She was still mulling her options when Meatball trotted into her tent.

"Hi, buddy, what are you doing here?" She looked around for Greg but didn't see him. She leaned down to pet the dog. He sniffed her bare legs, his tail lashing back and forth. She scratched his back as he twisted happily under her hand, then, quick as a flash, the terrier grabbed her bra off the bunk where she'd tossed it and bolted out the door.

"Meatball, what the hell!" Kate stared in surprise, then took off after him. The dog beat a bee-line to his master's tent and ran inside. Without bothering to knock, she followed him. Greg was at his desk, working on calculations for the next day's mission. Meatball leaped up on the bunk and lay down, gently licking his prize.

"Your dog stole my bra!" Kate sputtered. She wasn't sure if she was indignant or amused.

Greg looked up. His eyes played over her figure and she realized, too late, that the T-shirt clinging to her damp skin didn't leave much to the imagination. She might have reacted a little hastily.

"I see that." His voice was warm with amusement.

Kate crossed her arms. That did little more than emphasize the obvious.

Greg looked at Meatball.

"What have you got there?" He stood and took Kate's bra out of the terrier's mouth. It was one of her practical, everyday foundation garments, ivory silk, a little ragged. He studied it, smiling slowly, then folded it and handed it back to her.

"What happened to the black lace?"

Kate took the item in question and stuffed it unceremoniously into the pocket of her shorts. He was standing closer than he needed to. Her hands rose and flattened on his chest, unsure if she was pushing him away or inviting him closer.

"The black lace is for special occasions." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Greg didn't say anything and she was caught, spellbound, in his eyes. Suddenly self-conscious, she turned to leave.

He took her arm, spinning her easily back to him.

"What's your hurry, Katie?"

The sound of her name on his lips froze her in place.

"I . . ."

"You're always leaving just when things start to get interesting."

His grip was gentle as he pulled her into his arms but she knew there was no chance of getting loose. A smile quirked the corners of his mouth, deepening the dimples that never failed to leave her helpless. Outside, men shouted, tossing a baseball back and forth. Someone drove by in a jeep, just a few feet from the tent door. There was no expectation of privacy here and he knew it.

"No," she protested. "We can't –"

"Yeah. We can."

The kiss was light, his lips barely brushing hers, lingering, tasting her with only a suggestion of pressure.

"Stop it." She turned away. God knew she wasn't against kissing him but she was against kissing him here. "Someone will – "

"Someone will what?" He brought her face back to his and kissed her again. She stiffened, refusing to let him pull her under even as his teeth closed on her lower lip. Her self-control was eroding at an alarming rate. He stroked her back, his fingers gentle as his mouth lit a flame that licked through her body.

In the tent doorway, someone cleared their throat. Kate startled but Greg didn't take his hands off her. Or his mouth. The kiss stayed light, only the whisper of his lips on hers, teasing, inviting. She struggled, wanting to pull way but couldn't have if she tried. He was a flame she couldn't resist and he was burning her alive.

The anonymous throat clearing in the doorway turned into a chuckle. Kate couldn't think about two things at once, so she quit trying and gave herself over to Greg's embrace. Her lips parted as he took his time, letting the kiss deepen, destroying her resistance until she couldn't think at all.

He was rougher now, his hands hard on her upper arms, holding her motionless. She wasn't prepared for the wave of arousal that washed over her as his body pressed against hers. Every beat of her heart pushed her recklessly toward the edge of a precipice. It was like waking up with him the morning after Don's party all over again, heat and power and invitation. If this kept up much longer she wasn't going to be responsible for what happened next. Somewhere in the distance she heard a soft, feral moan of pleasure and realized it was her. She couldn't help it. She lost track of time, her arms around his neck, fingers twisted in his hair as his mouth owned hers.

The throat clearing sounded again, more definitive this time.

"Are you two about done?" Jim said finally. "I'm not gonna stand here all night."

Greg pulled back a fraction. He looked over her shoulder and growled, "Good. Go away."

"Sorry, Pappy, can't." Jim laughed. "Sorry, darlin', for interrupting your research. I can tell you take it seriously."

Emotion and sensation pounded through her. She didn't know what was worse – Greg kissing her where everyone could see them in the first place or Jim interrupting them. Men were nothing but trouble. Pilots were extra trouble. This pilot was beyond trouble. That pilot wasn't helping.

Jim stood in the tent door, arms crossed, an amused look on his face.

"Lard's landing here in about five minutes. He's on his way back from a conference on Guadalcanal," he said, "and he's demanding to see K.C. Cameron. What are we going to do?"

The look on Greg's face made it perfectly clear what he wanted to do and she smothered a laugh in spite of the situation. His hands squeezed her waist gently. She ran her index finger across his lower lip, felt his heartbeat thudding against her chest.

"Next time, kiss me where no one will interrupt us," she said softly.

He quirked his eyebrows.

"You can count on it," he said.

XXX

Colonel Thomas Lard climbed out of the L-5, pulled off his mae west and threw it back in the plane. Greg could see his brows drawn together in the familiar, perpetual scowl.

"Colonel, what brings you to our little garden spot of the war this evening?" Greg bared his teeth in a smile. He disliked Lard on a good day. When the man interrupted what might have turned into a promising evening with Kate, he disliked him exponentially more.

"I thought I'd stop and meet K.C. Cameron. I've been meaning to come see the man for some time now."

"Oh, sir, you should have called first." Greg tried to look regretful, which under the circumstances, wasn't very hard. "He left this afternoon."

"Left? For where?"

Behind Lard's shoulder, Casey mouthed, "Rendova."

"Rendova, sir."

"What the hell's he doing on Rendova? He's assigned to cover this unit."

Greg shrugged.

"I know, sir, but you know how reporters are, always running all over the place. He said something about having business in the press corps office there."

A horn beeped as a jeep rounded the corner, accelerating down the track between the tents. Kate waved at the men and shifted into a higher gear as she flew past. Lard jumped back, scowling as dust settled on the toes of his polished shoes.

"Who was that?"

"One of the nurses," Jim said quickly. "She was here checking up on conditions among the men, right Greg?"

Greg turned a strangled noise into a cough.

"Yes sir, those Navy nurses are very thorough in their follow up care," he managed. "You're welcome to wait for Cameron, of course, but we have no idea when he'll be back. This late in the day, I'd guess he'll stay on Rendova tonight."

Lard looked suspiciously around the compound.

"Boyington, it's not that I don't trust you, but how do I know the man is actually living here and not just dropping in from time to time? That would account for his . . . optimistic . . . coverage of this unit." He looked up and down the road as if expecting to see another jeep heading for him. "Where's he staying?"

"In the VIP tent."

"You don't mind if I take a look, do you?"

Greg shrugged again.

"Be my guest. Right this way, sir."

Lard turned away and behind his back, Greg signaled to Jim and mouthed "clothesline." Jim looked confused. Greg rolled his eyes. He mimed cupping a girl's breasts with both hands. Jim's eyebrows shot up in sudden understanding and he took off, dashing behind the tents and out of Lard's line of vision.

"What's wrong with him?" Lard asked, noticing Jim's sudden departure.

"Bad sausage at breakfast this morning," Casey said.

Greg led Colonel Lard slowly across the base, stopping frequently to make observations about the condition of the planes and the latest shortages Micklin and Hutch were dealing with.

"Stop stalling, Boyington, I haven't got all night," the colonel finally snapped.

"Right here, sir. Here's the VIP tent." Greg gestured for Lard to go ahead of him.

Lard stepped into the tent and looked around. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg saw a flash of lace vanish out the back flap as Kate's clothesline and its contents disappeared.

Lard surveyed the combined chaos of living quarters and office. Greg had never been so relieved Kate wasn't a particularly tidy housekeeper. There was nothing remotely feminine about the tent, missing laundry line not withstanding.

"I see he's made himself at home," Lard said, lifting an empty Scotch bottle from the desk. "I hope your boys aren't corrupting him."

"I wouldn't worry about that sir," Greg said.

"What the hell is this?" Lard bent and lifted a pair of girl's panties from the floor. He studied them at arm's length before dropping them on the bunk. "Maybe you should start worrying about it. That man isn't assigned here to entertain himself with the nurses."

Greg plastered a smile on his face.

"You know what those Navy nurses are like, sir. Really, it's hard to keep them away sometimes. I could have a word with Cameron, if you like."

Lard snorted. He muttered something about the pot calling the kettle black. Greg didn't ask him to repeat it.

Outside, the L-5's pilot called, "Sir? We're burning daylight, we need to get back in the air."

Lard took a final look around the tent.

"I'll have to catch up with Cameron another time. I really want to talk to him about his writing."

"Yes, sir, I'm sure you do," Greg said.

XXX

We'd dodged a bullet, again. Kate had been here for two months and so far Colonel Lard wasn't any the wiser. I didn't know how long we could keep pulling this off. In one way, the war was turning out to be handy. It kept Lard from having much time to deal with worrying about a single reporter. In spite of all his bluster, I wasn't sure he really wanted to deal with Cameron anyway. After all, it was his fault she was here in the first place. - GB

XXX

Nurses' quarters

Kate pulled her bra out of her pocket and dropped it on Dee's bed.

"I'm not even going to ask," her friend said.

"It's better that way." Kate sat down and groaned. "It's not my fault. It's TJ's fault and Meatball's fault and Lard's fault." Looking up, she couldn't help grinning. "But mostly it's Greg's fault."

She gave Dee a condensed version of the last 30 minutes.

"Wait, wait – go back to the part about what you and Greg were doing when Lard interrupted. I want to hear more about that," Dee said. The sparkle in her eye told Kate her friend knew exactly what they were doing.

"It wasn't Lard who interrupted, it was Jim," Kate said. "But it was Lard's fault Jim interrupted. It was probably for the best." She sighed. "If I'd stayed there much longer, I'm not sure what would have happened."

"From the sound of it, I've got a pretty good idea."

"Not in that tent," Kate said through clenched teeth. She stood, and turning her back on her friend, hiked her T-shirt up over her shoulders, put on her bra and pulled her shirt back down.

"You need to get over your privacy issues." Dee said.

"Privacy issues?" Kate turned to face her. "I don't have privacy issues! I don't have privacy! I'm living in the middle of a Marine fighter base and you're talking to me about privacy? I can change my clothes in less than a minute, top to bottom. Half the time I shower with one of the boys in a stall next to me. I wake up to them knocking on my door, then just walking in – granted, they usually bring coffee, but still. I have to keep an eye on my underwear or Meatball steals it. And you say I need to just get over it?"

Dee giggled.

"Do you want to sleep with him or not?"

"Stop it!" Kate felt her face grow hot. "That's not the point."

"I think that's exactly the point." Dee folded her arms across her chest, resting her case.

"Yes." Kate said quietly. She treasured the time she spent with Greg. She loved his smile, the look in his eyes when he interrupted whatever she was doing, the things they talked about when the two of them were alone. She loved his irreverent sense of humor and his complete disregard for regulations that stood in the way of how he thought things should be done.

When he looked at her, she wanted to lose herself in him and let him take her somewhere the war would disappear for both of them, even if it was only for a few hours.

And she woke with his name on her lips more often than she wanted to admit.

"Then you need to make it happen," Dee said with finality.

XXX

Privacy issues, my sweet aunt. Dee didn't live on the base. She didn't have any idea how damned hard it was to just be alone with the man for 10 minutes. When it came to Greg, I wanted more than 10 minutes. - KCC