Coming Up for Air

2

WITH HER HAND TUCKED firmly into his, Chance Rawlins steered his spoils through the crowded nightclub, intent on getting her outside before she changed her mind. He recalled the incident in the supermarket, when their carts had collided. Normally, he’d have seized the opportunity to chat her up, maybe get a phone number, but she’d turned her cart away so fast he’d wondered if he’d left his fly unzipped.

The last place he’d expected to run into her again was Shooters nightclub, a place normally reserved for junior officers and local gals looking to get some action. Jenna Larson hadn’t struck him as falling into the latter category, but he’d been wrong.

Lucky for him.

The only reason he’d been at the club tonight was to give his brother, Chase, a decent send-off. He and his unit of elite special ops commandos were scheduled to deploy to Afghanistan in just two days. Despite the fact that most of his brother’s unit had been at the club, ready to raise a beer, Chase hadn’t shown up. Probably doing last-minute paperwork, Chance thought. As identical twins, they took their military duties seriously, but that’s where any similarity ended. Chase was all business, all the time, whereas Chance had no problem setting his work aside to have a little fun.

He glanced at the woman by his side.

Absolutely no problem whatsoever.

He didn’t make a habit of picking women up at clubs, but there was something about this particular woman that made him unable to release her after their dance. She’d aroused an awareness in him, a rush of hot excitement similar to what he felt just before he went out on a dangerous mission. He wasn’t about to ignore it.

He held the door open for Jenna, watching as she preceded him down the walkway to the parking lot. The night was warm and clear, with a soft breeze and the sound of night bugs in the surrounding trees. Jenna paused on the pavement, looking around.

“So which car is yours? Wait—don’t tell me.” She held up a hand to forestall him. “Let me guess.”

Chance came to a stop beside her. “You actually think you can guess which car is mine?”

“Sure.” She took a step back and pretended to size him up. “If I know your type, it’s probably understated and practical, but would need to have a great performance record. Which means it’s an expensive model.” She searched the lot. “I’m guessing an SUV, maybe a Land Rover or an older Land Cruiser.”

Chance gave a soft laugh. She’d just described his brother’s vehicle to a T. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but you don’t know my type at all.”

She tossed him a determined look. “Just give me a sec, okay?”

Chance spread his arms wide and grinned. “Take as long as you need, darlin’.”

He watched as she crossed to the first row of cars and paused to survey them. While her back was turned, he strolled to where the motorcycles were parked and threw a leg over the leather seat of a low-slung, black Harley. He turned the key, taking a perverse satisfaction in the way she visibly started at the rumble of the deep, throaty engine. Twisting sideways, he withdrew a half helmet from a saddlebag and dangled it on the end of one finger.

“This is yours?” she asked, disbelief written across her face as she walked toward him.

“You still think you know my type?”

To his relief, she merely gave him a tolerant look and accepted the proffered head gear. Chance secured his own helmet, before glancing at Jenna, who stood watching him.

“Climb on,” he invited, and rose to a standing position to give her more room. When she’d settled herself behind him, he sat down, acutely aware of her long legs bracketing his hips. “Are you warm enough?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the engine. “I have a jacket in the saddlebag. You’re welcome to use it.”

In answer, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his torso. His stomach muscles involuntarily contracted as she splayed her hands over his abdomen, and he could feel the softness of her breasts pressed against his back. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she spoke directly into his ear, her warm breath fanning his cheek.

“I’m sure I’ll be warm enough.”

Chance nearly groaned, his body registering the heat of her palms and the pressure of her thighs, aware of every breath she drew. He eased the bike backward out of the parking spot and then accelerated toward the open road, gratified when she clutched at him and hung on even tighter. From the moment he’d spotted her sitting at the bar, she’d intrigued him. She stood out from the other women in the club, and not just because of her height.

He liked her long, slim body and the way she seemed completely comfortable in her own skin. She didn’t slouch or try to disguise the fact that she stood a head taller than most other women. She walked with the loose-limbed gait of an athlete, but Chance could easily envision her wearing an elegant evening gown … or better yet, some sexy number involving a thong and thigh-high, sheer stockings that emphasized the length of her legs. She wore a minimal amount of makeup, and her hair hung in sleek waves around her face, the lights of the club picking out the red highlights in the thick, brown tresses. She looked reserved and unapproachable, almost haughty.

Until she looked at him.

Then her expression turned hungry. Like she knew what she wanted and to hell with anyone who stood in her way.

Good thing she was just passing through. Her eyes, cool and carnal, made him want to do decadent things with her. He itched to bury his hands in her hair and muss the sleek waves. He wanted to wipe the sheen of gloss from her lips with his mouth. He wanted those mile-long legs wrapped around his waist.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had such a visceral response to a woman. He couldn’t even blame it on alcohol, since he’d had only one beer. But he’d seen the way the other guys eyeballed her, and he’d been gripped with an overwhelming need to keep her to himself, away from the loud music and artificial atmosphere of the club. He didn’t need to get any crazy ideas about seeing her again after tonight, which should have made him feel relieved. But the thought of not seeing her again roused an uncomfortable, unfamiliar emotion that felt suspiciously like regret. And that alone was enough to convince him that he shouldn’t see her again.

They roared along the familiar streets with her hugging his back until they came to a convenience store. Pulling the Harley up to the curb, he turned off the engine and removed his helmet.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, easing himself from the bike. Without her warmth surrounding him, he felt chilled.

Inside the shop, he selected a bottle of wine from the cooler and helped himself to a couple of paper cups from the coffee bar. When he came back out, Jenna had scooted forward on the seat and had her hands firmly on the handle-grips. Her long legs easily reached the ground and she looked as if she belonged there. His rampant imagination conjured up images of her lounging back on the Harley wearing nothing but a smile and a pair of four-inch stilettos.

“Mind if I drive?” she asked, a challenging glint in her eyes.

Chance stopped in his tracks. “Do you know how?”

She shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

He laughed as he came forward and stashed the bottle and cups inside one of the saddlebags. “Maybe another time.”

“What? Do you have a problem riding behind a woman?” she asked. Her tone was light, but Chance paused, sensing something more in her words.

He straightened and gave her a slow grin. “Actually, no, I don’t. In fact, it’s one of my favorite positions.”

Even in the darkness, Chance didn’t miss how her eyes assessed him. After a moment, she slid back, relinquishing the driver’s position. Leaning forward, he braced one hand on the seat by her hip and the other on the handlebar. “Listen, if you had a motorcycle endorsement on your license, and if I knew for a fact you were completely sober and if I thought you could actually handle the weight of the bike and a passenger, I’d have no problem letting you drive, okay?”

Her fingers paused on the fastening of her helmet and her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Really?”

“Really. But for now, let me take care of it.” He traced a thumb along the soft curve of her jaw. “Besides, you feel good behind me.”

Without waiting for a response, he eased himself onto the bike, smiling as her arms came back around him. Within minutes, they reached a narrow road that meandered through the dark trees and finally emerged into a wide field. Directly in front of them lay the lights of Pope airfield, so close that Chance could see the shadowy figures of the controllers in the tower.

He drew the bike to a stop in the tall grass and waited for Jenna to dismount. Fireflies flickered in the darkness, and the sound of crickets filled the air.

“Wow,” she said, pulling her helmet off and staring at the airstrip. “This is amazing. We’re like fifty feet from the end of the runway.”

They were actually more than five hundred feet from the runway, but Chance didn’t disagree with her. Once the planes started to come in, the distance wouldn’t matter. Hanging their helmets from the handlebars, he dug through the saddlebags and withdrew a wool army blanket and the bottle of wine.

“C’mon, I’ll spread the blanket over here,” he said, tromping on the tall grass to flatten it. He opened the blanket and flapped it onto the ground, before sitting down. Jenna stood near the motorcycle, watching him. He patted the blanket invitingly. “C’mon. I promise not to bite.”

“Does anyone ever come out here?”

He shrugged. “Not that I know of. At least, I’ve never seen anyone else out here.” He indicated the woods behind them. “The road dead ends at an electrical service station about a quarter mile that way, so there’s no reason for anyone to come out here.” He smiled at her through the darkness. “But if there was, you’re safe with me.”

As she crossed to where he sat, Chance opened the wine and poured some into the paper cups, handing one to her as she lowered herself on the blanket beside him. Sitting cross-legged, she stared up at the sky. A brilliant light hung suspended in the distance, like an overly bright star signaling an incoming aircraft.

“Here comes one now,” she said, and took a sip of her wine before leaning over to look more closely at the bottle. “Mmm. Is this a pinot noir? You were actually listening to me.”

Chance nodded and took an appreciative sip. “Did I do good?”

She slanted an amused glance in his direction. “You’ve done okay. So far.”

“Then I’ll have to try harder,” he replied with a soft laugh. “Look, here she comes.”

Jenna turned her attention toward the incoming aircraft. Chance could hear the engines rev as the pilot throttled back.

“Looks like a cargo plane,” Jenna mused as it began its final descent.

“Yep. A C-130 Hercules. The 4th Brigade is doing a night jump, so this baby just dropped them off.”

As the plane drew closer, it appeared that it would fly directly over the spot where they sat. The aircraft came in low, its jets deafening on the night air. The vibration was enough that Chance felt it in his chest, and he looked at Jenna in time to see her mouth form a soundless “oh” of amazement as the big bird screamed over their heads. Even in the indistinct light, he could see the enjoyment on her face and felt a ridiculous sense of pleasure that he’d been responsible for putting it there.

“Wow,” she exclaimed, after the C-130 touched down. “That was freaking amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever watched a landing from quite this perspective.”

“The show’s not over yet. Look.” Chance directed her attention to a helipad on the far side of the runway. “They’ll send a brigade of Black Hawks out to extract the paratroopers from the jump site.”

As the roar of the C-130 engines faded, Chance could hear the thwap-thwap of the helicopter rotors churning to life. The first bird lifted slowly into the air and hovered for a brief moment, silhouetted against the night sky before accelerating forward, directly above the spot where they sat.

Chance lay flat on his back and drew Jenna down beside him, turning his head to watch her as five Black Hawks thundered above them, the downward wash from their rotors stirring the grass and blowing Jenna’s hair around her face.

“Oh, man, I love that sound!” She shifted on the blanket to look at him, laughing, and Chance felt his breath catch.

Setting his cup of wine aside, he rose up on one elbow and used his free hand to tug a strand of hair loose from the corner of her mouth, where it had caught.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, when the racket of the helicopters had faded.

She gazed up at him, still smiling. “Oh, yeah.”

Her eyes were mysterious in the dim light, her mouth soft and lush. Her dark hair fanned out on the blanket beneath her head and Chance twined a silky lock of it around his finger. Beneath her blouse, her breasts rose and fell in an agitated way, betraying the fact that she wasn’t nearly as relaxed as she pretended to be.

“So what made you go to Shooters tonight?” he asked, idly rubbing the strand of hair between his fingers.

She made a small, shrugging motion. “I went with a friend, more out of boredom than anything else.”

He fastened his gaze on her mouth. “And are you bored now?”

“Getting there,” she said huskily, and moistened her lips. “You might have to do something about that. Any ideas?”

“Well, for starters, I really want to kiss you,” he confessed in a husky voice, studying her face.

“Thank God,” she breathed. Reaching up, she slid a hand to the back of his head and drew him down to her.

CHASE RAWLINS CLEARLY knew how to kiss, and enjoyed doing it. He leaned over her, cupping her face in his palm as his mouth leisurely explored hers. His lips were warm and firm and he tormented her with soft, lingering kisses as his thumb caressed her cheek.

Jenna really had gone too long without sex. What other reason could there be for the way her blood hummed through her veins, or the way his touch did crazy things to her already heightened senses? She was acutely conscious of how warm and solid he felt against her body. He tasted faintly of wine, and she breathed in the intoxicating blend of his aftershave, the warm, fusty odor of the woolen blanket and the crisp scent of the crushed grass beneath them. She wanted to devour him, but he kept his kisses frustratingly sweet, teasing her, but not giving her what she craved.

“Open your mouth,” she breathed against his lips, desperate to taste him.

He made a noise, something between a groan and sigh, and then his tongue was in her mouth, sliding against hers and ratcheting up her need. The hot, moist kiss triggered an answering rush of dampness between her thighs. She wanted to throw a leg across his hips and press herself against him. Instead, she squeezed her knees together and told herself to slow down. But when he deepened the kiss, Jenna couldn’t prevent sliding her arms around his broad shoulders and arching against him, telling him without words that she wanted more.

He grunted softly in approval, and before she knew what he intended, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him until she lay sprawled across his chest, her legs tangled with his. Gasping, she eased away enough to look down into his face. In the indistinct light, his eyes seemed to glow in his tanned face, and his breathing came in hard pants.

“I’m too heavy for you,” Jenna protested. But when she would have pushed away, he restrained her.

“Are you kidding?” He sounded astonished. “You feel great.”

As if to emphasize his words, he thrust his fingers into her hair where it hung loose around her face and drew her back down, covering her mouth with his own. Jenna resisted for about a fraction of a second before the heat of his kiss caused her to melt against him. When he wedged a hard thigh between her legs, she instinctively rode it, savoring the friction against her center, where she pulsed hotly. He speared her tongue with his, in concert with the rocking of her hips against his leg. The sensation was amazing, but she wanted more.

Pulling back, Jenna straddled him. He shifted beneath her, until she was pressed fully against the hard ridge of his arousal.

“Oh, man, you feel good,” she said, bracing her hands on his chest and moving reflexively back and forth. The intimate contact created a fresh flood of moisture to saturate her panties, and her nipples felt tight and achy.

As if he knew what she needed, he reached up and covered her breasts with his hands. All the air escaped from her lungs in a soft rush of pleasure. Her back arched as his thumbs stroked across the distended nipples.

She was glad now that while he’d been in the store buying the wine, she’d slipped her dog tags off and pushed them into the pocket of her jeans. There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to get very intimate, very quickly. She could almost guess how he might respond if he saw the telltale evidence of her military service, and she didn’t need to have him ruin the moment by asking questions. She’d learned from experience that most men found her job as threatening as her height, so she avoided talking about it whenever possible.

Only her father seemed less than impressed with her chosen career. Part of the reason she’d opted to become an army helicopter pilot was to make him proud, although she’d never admit to him how much his opinion mattered, or how everything she did and even how she felt about other pilots could be traced right back to him. She could barely admit it to herself. She was a more than competent pilot, she knew that, yet she couldn’t seem to shake the sense that, no matter how good she was, she’d never be quite good enough. She’d worked twice as hard as any of the guys in her unit, and had achieved just as much, so why did she feel as if she was a disappointment to her father? And why did it matter so much? Aside from teaching her how to fly helicopters, he’d hardly taken any notice of her. She didn’t owe him anything.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped. His face was taut as he watched her. “What you like.”

The small part of Jenna’s brain that still functioned knew she should stop, but the sensations coursing through her body were too intense. She needed more of the delicious contact. Covering his hands with her own, she encouraged his caresses even as she angled her hips for optimum friction.

“I like this,” she assured him. Her voice sounded husky and unfamiliar, even to herself. “But I want more.”

When her hands moved to the buckle of his belt, he made a sound like a helpless groan and caught her wrists.

“Wait.”

Jenna’s hands stilled. His features were all hard angles in the dim light and she silently berated herself for having moved too fast. When would she learn that not all men appreciated women who took the initiative? “What is it?”

“I want you to know that I didn’t bring you out here for this. I mean, I’d hoped, of course—” He gave her a lopsided grin. “But it wasn’t something I’d planned on. I just wanted you to know.”

Jenna felt a smile tug at her mouth. She hadn’t expected him to be so considerate, although she should have guessed. After all, she’d seen him dance. “Okay … so does this mean you want me to stop?”

“Hell, no!” He released her wrists. “But it’s only fair I tell you that we might not see each other again after tonight. So if that bothers you …”

“It doesn’t,” she assured him. “Like I said before, I’m only here for a few days, and then I’ll be gone.” She paused meaningfully. “So, unless you’re married or something …”

He laughed softly and raised his ringless hands for her inspection. “No wife. No fiancée. No girlfriend.”

“Then no worries, because I’m not looking for any promises. Your job is dangerous, and you can never be sure where you’re going to be from one day to the next. Trust me, I get it. Not exactly conducive to a relationship, right?”

“Right …”

She heard the cautious agreement in his voice, and wondered if she’d made another faux pas. Maybe he didn’t want her to know that he was with special ops. Some of those guys were funny about revealing their connection to the black world of covert operations. But she really did get it, because her own career made it difficult for her to establish any romantic ties.

“All I’m trying to say is that I’m okay with keeping this casual,” she clarified. “No strings. No commitments.

“ Leaning down, she put her mouth next to his ear and lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. “No problem.”

3

CHANCE COULDN’T THINK of one damn reason to argue with her, not when her heat scorched him through his jeans and her hands were at his belt, finishing the task he’d interrupted just moments earlier. He’d been honest with her. He’d told her that whatever they shared wouldn’t extend beyond tonight, and she’d been okay with it. More than okay, really. He should feel a little insulted that she was so okay with not seeing him again, but suddenly he couldn’t think about much beyond the feel of her fingers unzipping his jeans and tentatively stroking him beneath the fabric of his boxers.

“You’re so hard,” she breathed.

Oh, yeah.

“You’re sure—”

“Shh.” She lay her fingers over his mouth. “You talk too much.”

As if to emphasize her point, she leaned down and covered his lips with her own, sliding her tongue against his. Chance wanted to groan with pleasure. He buried his fingers in her hair and angled her face for better access, luxuriating in the damp silk of her mouth. She made a small noise in her throat and shifted so that she could reach between their bodies and cover his straining erection with her hand. The heat of her palm through the thin cotton had him pushing upward, instinctively seeking more of the erotic contact.

“Mmm,” she murmured approvingly. “You like that?”

Chance managed to grunt a reply, and then ceased to think altogether when she slipped a hand inside the waistband of his boxers and curled her fingers around him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so aroused so quickly. Of course, he hadn’t been with anyone in more than six months, and that kind of deprivation had a way of ratcheting up your libido. But Chance suspected that even if he hadn’t gone through a recent dry spell, he’d have a tough time resisting Jenna Larson. Everything about her turned him on. When she began to rhythmically slide her hand along his length, he groaned loudly and reached down to wrap a restraining hand around her wrist.

“Darlin’,” he panted, “you need to slow down, or this is going to be over a whole lot quicker than either of us wants.”