You, if nothing else so I can eject you over the Superbowl dome, I think
murderously. However I'm getting rather tired of ejecting from F-14s, not
to mention I'd lose my wings, so that's really not a viable option.
My attention focuses on Mac, who's burning holes into Sturgis in unabashed curiosity. She's not going to let this die. She may leave it alone for now, but she'll catch me—or worse, Sturgis—off guard and weasel it out of one of us.
There's not really all that much to tell. I mean, it's not like I professed my undying love and devotion for Mac to Sturgis and Keeter. I guess I did kind of talk about her for while, but I really don't think it was all that long. I mean, Keeter asked how she was, I just thought he'd appreciate a thorough answer. I think Mac knows me well enough to read between the lines, however.
Sydney, Australia, ferry ride, notwithstanding.
I'd like to think our communication skills have improved somewhat since that whole debacle. I ihope/i our communication skills have improved since then, because I don't think either of us could handle another fallout from a similar scenario.
No, I'm tired of this dance, too. This is it. Either Mac and I are meant for each other and are going to be together or…or, we aren't, and that will be the end of it. A painful, unsatisfying end, but an end nonetheless.
"No, Harm's been keeping us in limbo about it for the past two weeks. Come on, Harm, the Superbowl's only four days away" Mac conjoles, looking at me with such soft brown eyes.
"You'll have my decision by Friday," I say, hoping I can come up with a good explanation for why I led Mac on about those seats. I don't think "because I was hoping I'd log some serious lip-action time with you, (and thus begin our journey to FantasyWorld)" is going to pacify Mac.
"That's tomorrow," Mac says. Great. I have less than 24 hours to save my six from Mac. I should have just told her the truth, but nooo, I had to let my ego and my hormones do the talking, and while thus far I've been a far happier man these past two weeks than I think I've been in a long time, the future does not hold much promise, at least until Mac cools down and I can worm my way back into her good graces.
"Well," I say, a nervous laugh slipping past my lips, "you'll have your answer then."
"Good."
"Great." They reply in unison.
"So, we hitting the court tonight, buddy?"
"How about dinner at my place and we can discuss the Sorenson case?" This is also said simultaneously. Before I can answer, Mac turns to glare at Sturgis. Sturgis shrugs unapologetically.
"Uhh, I think that's a negative on either." They both look disappointed. Oh, well. I've got to figure out this Superbowl thing, and I have a feeling it's going to require most of my night.
********
I'm packing up my things for the evening, grabbing the Sorenson file, but I'm not, under any circumstances, discussing it with Mac tonight. I'm not. I tell myself over and over again as I slip into my overcoat and grab my cover.
"What are you doing? Chanting?" her beautiful voice breaks through.
"Huh?"
"You're bobbing your head up and down like you're reciting something," she says, watching me carefully.
"I'm not."
"Oookay," she draws out, clearly not buying. "Walk down with you?"
"Sure." I hold the elevator for her as she quickly grabs her own things and then slips in to stand as close as she can beside me. I'm quickly engulfed by her elegant perfume. I look at her with what I feel is a pained expression as she smiles prettily.
"So, are you going to spend the evening on your decision for the extra seat?"
She knows me so well.
"Yes, counselor, I am."
"Seems to me like it should be no contest," she remarks casually, following me to my Lexus.
"Well, you've given me a lot to think about."
"Well, let me give you another piece to consider," she replies in a sultry voice as I throw my briefcase onto the passenger seat and turn to face her. She places a hand on either side of my face and pulls my head down to her lips. I can't say I put up much resistance once I realize her intentions. My lips fuse with hers and within seconds my arms are around her waist, holding her tight against me.
I don't release her lips until I'm sure the feel and warmth of her mouth is burned into my brain. That doesn't take long, so I add a few seconds for good measure.
"Just something to think about tonight," she whispers breathlessly. I'm still trying to catch my own breath, and my good sense, which, if truth be told, went by the wayside a couple of weeks ago.
"That's not fair, marine," I pant.
"All's fair in love and war, Commander."
She smiles, but it's a loaded smile, and I think I see a little wistfulness there in her soft brown eyes before she pulls away from me completely. She slides into her 'Vette and drives off with a small wave.
I wonder which we're engaging in?
*********
My attention focuses on Mac, who's burning holes into Sturgis in unabashed curiosity. She's not going to let this die. She may leave it alone for now, but she'll catch me—or worse, Sturgis—off guard and weasel it out of one of us.
There's not really all that much to tell. I mean, it's not like I professed my undying love and devotion for Mac to Sturgis and Keeter. I guess I did kind of talk about her for while, but I really don't think it was all that long. I mean, Keeter asked how she was, I just thought he'd appreciate a thorough answer. I think Mac knows me well enough to read between the lines, however.
Sydney, Australia, ferry ride, notwithstanding.
I'd like to think our communication skills have improved somewhat since that whole debacle. I ihope/i our communication skills have improved since then, because I don't think either of us could handle another fallout from a similar scenario.
No, I'm tired of this dance, too. This is it. Either Mac and I are meant for each other and are going to be together or…or, we aren't, and that will be the end of it. A painful, unsatisfying end, but an end nonetheless.
"No, Harm's been keeping us in limbo about it for the past two weeks. Come on, Harm, the Superbowl's only four days away" Mac conjoles, looking at me with such soft brown eyes.
"You'll have my decision by Friday," I say, hoping I can come up with a good explanation for why I led Mac on about those seats. I don't think "because I was hoping I'd log some serious lip-action time with you, (and thus begin our journey to FantasyWorld)" is going to pacify Mac.
"That's tomorrow," Mac says. Great. I have less than 24 hours to save my six from Mac. I should have just told her the truth, but nooo, I had to let my ego and my hormones do the talking, and while thus far I've been a far happier man these past two weeks than I think I've been in a long time, the future does not hold much promise, at least until Mac cools down and I can worm my way back into her good graces.
"Well," I say, a nervous laugh slipping past my lips, "you'll have your answer then."
"Good."
"Great." They reply in unison.
"So, we hitting the court tonight, buddy?"
"How about dinner at my place and we can discuss the Sorenson case?" This is also said simultaneously. Before I can answer, Mac turns to glare at Sturgis. Sturgis shrugs unapologetically.
"Uhh, I think that's a negative on either." They both look disappointed. Oh, well. I've got to figure out this Superbowl thing, and I have a feeling it's going to require most of my night.
********
I'm packing up my things for the evening, grabbing the Sorenson file, but I'm not, under any circumstances, discussing it with Mac tonight. I'm not. I tell myself over and over again as I slip into my overcoat and grab my cover.
"What are you doing? Chanting?" her beautiful voice breaks through.
"Huh?"
"You're bobbing your head up and down like you're reciting something," she says, watching me carefully.
"I'm not."
"Oookay," she draws out, clearly not buying. "Walk down with you?"
"Sure." I hold the elevator for her as she quickly grabs her own things and then slips in to stand as close as she can beside me. I'm quickly engulfed by her elegant perfume. I look at her with what I feel is a pained expression as she smiles prettily.
"So, are you going to spend the evening on your decision for the extra seat?"
She knows me so well.
"Yes, counselor, I am."
"Seems to me like it should be no contest," she remarks casually, following me to my Lexus.
"Well, you've given me a lot to think about."
"Well, let me give you another piece to consider," she replies in a sultry voice as I throw my briefcase onto the passenger seat and turn to face her. She places a hand on either side of my face and pulls my head down to her lips. I can't say I put up much resistance once I realize her intentions. My lips fuse with hers and within seconds my arms are around her waist, holding her tight against me.
I don't release her lips until I'm sure the feel and warmth of her mouth is burned into my brain. That doesn't take long, so I add a few seconds for good measure.
"Just something to think about tonight," she whispers breathlessly. I'm still trying to catch my own breath, and my good sense, which, if truth be told, went by the wayside a couple of weeks ago.
"That's not fair, marine," I pant.
"All's fair in love and war, Commander."
She smiles, but it's a loaded smile, and I think I see a little wistfulness there in her soft brown eyes before she pulls away from me completely. She slides into her 'Vette and drives off with a small wave.
I wonder which we're engaging in?
*********