Are Men From Mars?: Are Men From Mars? / Venus, How Could You?

She hurried from the bathroom when the woman Maddie no longer recognized sent back an imaginary wink from the captain’s bathroom mirror.

BRAD STEELED HIMSELF against the long stream of curse words coming from his commander’s bared lips. With a grimace, Brad said, “With your permission, sir, I’ll beef up security. Now that the sister has involved the local authorities, it’s only a matter of time until the media starts questioning whether we’re really out here on routine maneuvers as we claim.”

“Well, let them question all they want,” Gibbons bellowed. “Just don’t let anyone step foot on this base.”

Brad nodded, feeling completely chastised.

The old man, as he was respectfully called by the men who served under him, had asked for Brad specifically on this final assignment that would take Gibbons into retirement at the end of the year. Brad knew the request had been made mainly out of respect for his father who had saved Gibbons’s life in Vietnam before being killed himself in a surprise attack. Brad had only been six years old at the time, but he’d been old enough to vow that, in memory of his father, he would become one of the best helicopter pilots the United States Air Force had to offer.

At thirty-four, Brad had achieved that goal by never allowing anyone or anything stand in the way of his mission.

“How soon do you think we can demobilize and move this operation?” Gibbons spoke up, jarring Brad back from memories he usually kept at bay.

“Three days. Tops,” Brad told him, still saddened that thanks to him, Gibbons’s exit from the military wasn’t going to be an easy one. “I’m just not sure how we’ll go about getting the Black Ghost out of here with a bunch of reporters watching our every move.”

Gibbons dragged a hand over his weatherworn face before his black eyes flashed in Brad’s direction. Though now in his sixties, he still resembled the young officer in the old photograph sitting on his desk. It was a photo Gibbons took with him everywhere he went. A group of young pilots, including Brad’s father, stood with arms slung around each other’s shoulders, squinting into the sun. Brad’s eyes rested fondly on the picture of his dad for a moment, then back to the photo of Gibbons. Same alert eyes, Brad noted. Same crew cut, though now the old man’s hair was completely gray. Same ability, Brad knew, to make split-second decisions without so much as the blink of the eye.

“We don’t have much choice,” Gibbons finally said, diverting Brad’s attention away from the photo and back to him. “We’ll take the Black Ghost out of here the same way we had to bring that spy plane back from China when we got our ass in a crack. We’ll dismantle and ship the sucker one piece at a time.”

“I’m really sorry, sir. About everything,” Brad said with a sigh of resignation. “Unfortunately we’re in an age of instant communication. Now that the sister is in Roswell yelling alien abduction, every news crew in the nation will pick up the story.”

“Bastards,” Gibbons swore. “Always shoving a camera in somebody’s face. Hell-bent on sensationalism.”

“I hate to say it, but the public is just as much at fault,” Brad mused. “Look at all those reality shows that have become so popular on television today.”

“Well, your damn reality is going to be keeping that professor quiet until we can get the hell out of here,” Gibbons said, suddenly angry all over again. “I’d intended to threaten those women with serious charges and send them on their way, but that isn’t possible now.”

Brad tensed. “Exactly what are you saying, sir?”

Gibbons pounded his desk in his usual pay attention style. “I’m saying we’ll have to keep the professor here until we can move our operation. After that, she can talk to the media all she wants. Once the evidence is gone, there’ll be nothing left to confirm her story.”

Keep her? Brad’s mind yelled in protest.

But that was crazy. They were on a temporary assignment, camped out at an old base that was virtually vacant most of the time. They didn’t have any military police here, much less any type of jail cell where they could house his accidental prisoner.

“But, sir, that’s impossible. If we keep her, then all hell will surely break loose. The local sheriff is bound to call in the FBI.”

“I’ll make a few calls to Washington,” Gibbons said, obviously unconcerned about the FBI. “It’s the damn media and the local-yokels who’ll give us a problem.”

“But, sir…”

Gibbons pointed a stern finger in Brad’s direction, and Brad didn’t miss the menacing twinkle in the old man’s eye when he said, “The way I see it, you grabbed her. Now, you baby-sit her.”

Under different circumstances, Brad would have shouted hallelujah at such an appealing opportunity. Baby-sit her? Hell, yes, he’d like to baby-sit her if the timing was right. He’d give those pouting Southern Belle lips of hers something to pout about. Like tempting her and teasing her until she realized there were much more exciting things in life than chasing butterflies across the desert.

But now?

When their entire top secret mission was in jeopardy? How could he possibly baby-sit the professor and make sure the Black Ghost was safely out of harm’s way?

“But keep her where, sir?” Brad finally summoned the courage to ask. “We can’t take the chance of letting anyone else even know she’s here.”

“Didn’t you say you had Baker take her to your living quarters?”

“Well, yeah, but what do you expect me to do with her?”

“You’re asking me that question?” the old man said with a laugh. “You? Mr. Love ’em and Leave ’em is actually telling me he doesn’t know how to keep a lady occupied for three short days? Cut the crap, boy. I know better.”

Brad flinched. Maybe he did have a reputation with the ladies. If a lady wanted a friend, he could be a loyal one. If she wanted a fun date, he was her man. A little sex? Sure, he could be persuaded to rise to the occasion.

However, it wasn’t likely Dr. Morgan would be interested in him, period. She was already fit to be tied over him destroying her film. But if Brad had to inform her that the two of them were going to be confined to his living quarters for the next three days? Hell, he’d come closer getting to first base with an angry barracuda than he would with the comely professor.

“We’re not talking about some lady I’m taking on a date here, sir. We’re talking about me keeping a highly educated woman in my own bedroom against her will. Aren’t you concerned about the lawsuit she’s bound to bring against us when we do let her go?”

Gibbons grinned. “What’s the matter? Afraid the professor is too smart for your usual lady-killer charm?”

Brad frowned. “I’m saying this isn’t your typical situation.”

“Damn right this isn’t your typical situation!” Gibbons boomed. “So the typical rules don’t apply. Got it?”

“But, sir…”

“Handle it, Hawkins.”

“How? Keep the professor handcuffed to me for the next three days?”

His outburst sparked another threatening gleam in the old man’s eye. “Hand me my briefcase.”

Brad obeyed his order. Gibbons searched through his briefcase for several seconds, then eventually produced a set of steel-gray handcuffs. Brad caught them easily when Gibbons threw the cuffs in his direction. A second later, Gibbons tossed Brad a key.

“I knew those would come in handy one day,” Gibbons said with a lopsided grin. “I took them from a snotty M.P. in Saigon one night when he tried to arrest me and your father for disturbing the peace. We’d just flown fourteen helicopter missions straight through the bowels of hell. We both decided no M.P. with a cushy security job was going to do anything but give us the respect we deserved. I took his cuffs away from him, and your father stuffed him in a trash can outside the bar. It still makes me laugh when I think about it.”

Brad wasn’t laughing. “And you really expect me to use these?”

“What part do you not understand, Hawkins? Handle it.”

“Sir…”

“That’s an order, Captain Hawkins. I don’t care how you do it. Just do it. Dismissed.”

Defeated, Brad saluted the man he had always called Uncle Joe in private. The man who had become a surrogate father to him after his father was killed. The man who had been his mentor, his confidant, his pal.

The same man who was grinning back at Brad now with an openly sadistic smile.

“ISN’T IT STANDARD procedure that all prisoners get at least one phone call?” Maddie asked Sergeant Baker who was now standing in front of the only door in the room with his legs wide apart and his hands clasped behind his back in a typical guard-type pose.

Still guarding her, of course, the accused spy whose only mistake had been to climb a fence in pursuit of an elusive butterfly that could have possibly furthered her career.

“You’ll have to take that up with Hawk when he returns,” Mr. G.I. Joe-cool finally answered.

“Hawk?”

“Captain Hawkins. It’s his nickname. But not just because of his last name,” Sergeant Baker added with a sly grin. “We call him Hawk because there isn’t a chick in anybody’s coop safe when Hawk’s around. The hens simply can’t resist him, if you know what I mean.”

Maddie felt her own feathers ruffle at that comment. She even clucked her tongue a few times before the lie slipped out in protest, “Then I guess I’m not your typical hen, Sergeant Baker. Because Captain Hawkins doesn’t appeal to me at all.”

Baker’s smirk challenged her statement. “Then I’ll be sure and pass it along that Hawk has finally met his match.”

Maddie was ready to cackle out a plea that Sergeant Baker do no such thing, but the door suddenly opened and the handsome hen thief himself stepped inside the room.

She was on her feet in a flash.

And how long had it been now? One hour? Two? Looking down at her watch, Maddie was shocked to see it had now been four long hours since she had unwillingly lost her freedom.

“I’m worried about my sister,” Maddie was quick to tell him before he had time to say a word. “And I’m sure she’s frantic wondering what happened to me. Now, please, Captain Hawkins. Take me to your commander so we can get this whole mess straightened out.”

His answer was to stroll across the room and force what appeared to be a neatly folded pair of camouflage pants and a T-shirt with the same irregular markings into her hands. On top of the T-shirt sat a new toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a small bottle of shampoo and a brush and comb.

“Standard government issue,” he said matter-offactly. “These clothes were the smallest I could find. I’m sure you’d like to clean up and get rid of some of that dust and sand.”

Refusing to let an act of kindness deter her in the least, Maddie looked down at the bundle, then back up at him. “You seem to be under some misguided notion I’m going to need these. But I assure you, as soon as I get to see your commander that won’t be the case.”

He accepted the bundle when she pushed it back in his direction, but they continued to face each other like two gunslingers prepared for a shoot-out. Maddie stared at him. He stared back. She tried to step around him and head for the door. He purposely blocked her path. With only inches left between them, Maddie had nowhere to look but up. And the second she did, she became lost in the dark brown depths of his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Morgan, Commander Gibbons isn’t available at the moment.”

“He isn’t?” Maddie managed to squeak.

She didn’t object when he took her gently by the elbow and began leading her away from the door and in the direction of the love seat. Just the touch of his hand was enough to make her knees weak. The faint smell of his aftershave didn’t do much for her addled thoughts, either. In fact, Maddie was mentally fabricating a letter of complaint to Mr. Ralph Lauren in protest of the intoxicating effects his products had on women, when she glanced back over her shoulder at Sergeant Baker’s grinning face.

In an instant, the words hawk and henhouse sobered her faster than a bucket of ice water.

“Now listen, Captain,” she said, pulling away from him in the nick of time. “Like you told me earlier, we can do this easy, or we can do it hard. It’s your choice. But I am going to see this Commander Gibbons one way or the other. Is that understood?”

He had the nerve to laugh.

“You think that’s funny?” Maddie demanded, shaking her finger in his direction. “You think you can hold me against my will, and I won’t march right out of here the first chance I get?”

He didn’t bother answering her question. Instead he turned to his buddy and said, “Why don’t you head over to the mess hall, Baker. I’m sure Dr. Morgan is hungry. Pick up a few sandwiches, some fruit and anything else you can find. And give us at least an hour alone. We need to have a little talk.”

Maddie sent an anxious glance after her bodyguard when he disappeared through the door. “What now, Captain Hawkins?” she asked with false bravado. “Is this where you send away any witnesses so you can rough me up? Are you going to force me to admit I’m some international spy when I’m not? Use some type of Chinese water torture, maybe? Try some shock therapy on me?”

Better yet, why don’t you just kiss me to death?

Maddie panicked. She couldn’t have these thoughts now. Not with him standing less than ten feet away! Still, her mind kept yelling I’ll admit to anything, for just one kiss. I’ll admit to being a spy. I’ll even admit to being a pistol-toting gun moll. You name the role. I’ll play it!

He kept looking at her so strangely Maddie feared she had actually spoken the words aloud. She breathed a thankful sigh of relief when he slowly shook his head and said, “You’ve seen too many old war movies if you really expect me to use any type of torture on you, Dr. Morgan.”

You’re torturing me now, just looking in my direction!

He walked calmly to the opposite side of the room and placed the clothing on the table. Then he reached inside the small refrigerator and pulled out two cans of soda before turning back to face her. “I think you’d better sit down for this conversation.”

Maddie accepted the soda, but not his suggestion. “I’ll stand, thank you,” she told him, deciding it might be safer if she stayed on her feet. Besides, she wasn’t taking any chances. Now that her usually suppressed libido had assumed a life of its own, something as innocent as sitting on the love seat might quickly turn into something else. Something like her stretching out seductively in a come-on pose and beckoning him to follow.

When he seated himself in the recliner a safe distance away, Maddie felt like cheering.

“First, I want to apologize,” he said, never taking his eyes from her face. “I’m sorry I had to destroy your film.”

He caught Maddie off guard with that statement. Especially since she could tell he was sincere. There was no trace of mockery hiding in those dark brown eyes of his. No hidden agenda. No game playing. No deceit.

“Apology accepted,” Maddie told him. She assumed his apology meant she was no longer a spy suspect. “I owe you an apology, too. For climbing that fence and for causing you all this trouble. And if there’s a fine for trespassing, Captain Hawkins, I’ll gladly pay it. But I can’t stress enough how important it is that I’m released as soon as possible. If I’m detained much longer I could lose any chance of finding—”

He cut her off before she could finish. “I’m sorry, Dr. Morgan, but there are a few complications you don’t understand.”

“What kind of complications?” Maddie asked suspiciously.

By the time he got to the top secret part, Maddie deeply regretted her question.

3

BRAD HAD KNOWN HE WOULD BE taking a big gamble if he told his prisoner the truth. In fact, under different circumstances he could have even been facing a court martial for divulging classified information. But like the old man had said himself, this wasn’t your typical situation. Typical rules, therefore, simply did not apply.

And that had been the deciding factor for Brad to place all the cards right out on the table. They were caught up in a bizarre situation. If he wanted her full cooperation, Brad knew he needed to tell the professor the truth. Instinct told him her own integrity wouldn’t let him down.

By the time he finally finished his lengthy explanation, Brad noticed she had wandered over to the love seat after all, and was now sitting stiffly on the edge of her seat with a panicked expression on her face. And then, from out of the blue, came the overwhelming urge to comfort her; to take her gently into his arms and kiss away the lines of worry that were now marring her beautiful face.

Whoa! Talk about a red alert.

He wasn’t the comforting type. Sure, she’d been handed a raw deal, but she’d have to suck it up and deal with it. Besides, only seconds earlier comforting her had been the last thing on his mind. He’d have to be dead not to find her attractive. Earlier, as he’d watched her pace around the room, all he could think about was wanting her naked. Plain and simple. Naked he could handle.

But being tempted to comfort her?

That was scary.

Purging any thoughts of comforting her from his mind, Brad said, “I hope you’ll agree protecting national security takes precedence over the research you were doing on your butterfly.”

She nodded, but continued sitting on the edge of the love seat with a vacant stare.

“And not to make light of things, but this is one of those situations where you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

She glanced in his direction this time. “I don’t agree with that statement,” she said defiantly. “In fact, I think I was in the right place at the right time, or I never would have found the butterfly I was searching for.”

“We could argue the point for hours, but it wouldn’t change the situation,” Brad tossed back. “The fact still remains protecting this mission has to take top priority.”

She frowned. “Tell me, Captain. If this mission is so top secret, how did you get permission to tell me all of the details?”

Brad smiled, having anticipated she would ask that very question. “What was the point in insulting your intelligence? You’ve already seen the Black Ghost. You’ve even ridden in it. You had to realize it wasn’t your everyday run-of-the-mill helicopter.”

She seemed pleased with his answer. “You’re right. And then when you destroyed my film…”

“You realized it was the helicopter I was trying to protect?” Brad finished for her.

She nodded. “I suspected as much.”

“I was counting on the fact that if I explained the seriousness of the situation, you’d be willing to give me your full cooperation,” he added for good measure.

“Well, of course, I’ll give you my full cooperation now that I know the circumstances,” she said, sounding insulted that he might think otherwise. “I am a responsible citizen, Captain Hawkins, despite my one bad decision to climb that fence.”

“Good. Because I’m going to need your full cooperation. And that’s an understatement.”

She sent him a blank stare. “Do I dare ask why?”

Brad tossed his empty soda can in a small waste-basket sitting by the recliner and left his chair. Walking toward the bookcase, he hoped what little ground he’d been gaining over the last few minutes wouldn’t be lost when the full magnitude of the situation was finally revealed to the woman with whom he was destined to be spending the next three days.

However, just to be on the safe side, Brad purposely sent her an apologetic look when he picked up the television remote and reluctantly punched the button.

MADDIE GASPED WHEN A close-up of Mary Beth instantly filled the screen.

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” Mary Beth told the handsome TV reporter in what Maddie immediately recognized as her sister’s theatrical voice. “I’m still shaking so badly, I can hardly sit in this chair.” As proof, Mary Beth held out her trembling hands for the reporter to see.

Maddie frowned.

“Well, of course, you’ve been shaken up,” the reporter sympathized as he reached out to pat those poor shaking fingers. “Who wouldn’t be after what you’ve been through?”

Mary Beth dabbed daintily at her eyes with a tissue one of the adoring police officers standing beside her suddenly produced, then sent another pitiful look directly at the camera.

“For those of you just tuning in, we’re here at the police station in downtown Roswell this evening with actress and model, Mary Beth Morgan, who most of you will recognize as the Evershine Girl,” the reporter said.

“The Evershine Girl?” Hawkins repeated, looking back in Maddie’s direction. “Hey, I remember that commercial.”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you and every other man in the country who happened to be tuned in to the Super Bowl last year.”

Though his eyes turned back to the screen, Maddie knew that damn commercial was already running like a film strip through the captain’s head. Mary Beth riding out of the fog on a coal-black stallion. Steam pluming from the horse’s nostrils with every breath it took. Mary Beth holding on to its long black mane like Lady Godiva, with nothing to cover her nakedness but long blond ringlets of her damn Evershine hair.

In fact, it wouldn’t have surprised Maddie if the company had gone bankrupt from a legion of lawsuits filed by all those guys who probably choked on their tortilla chips when Mary Beth rode nude across their television screen.

“Was your sister really nude in that commercial?” he had the nerve to ask.

Maddie held her hand up to silence him when the reporter patted Mary Beth supportively on the shoulder and said, “I know this is very difficult for you, Miss Morgan.” His sympathy prompted another sniffle from Mary Beth. “But could you please tell our viewers exactly what happened a few hours ago on the outskirts of Roswell?”

When the reporter pushed the microphone in her direction, Mary Beth took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, trying, Maddie suspected, to produce a genuine tear. It worked. The camera zoomed in to watch the droplet roll down her sister’s flawless cheek.

“I was with my sister, Dr. Madeline Morgan, whom I might add is one of the most respected entomologists in her field,” Mary Beth told her viewers, making no effort to wipe the fake tear away.

“And…” the reporter urged.

“We were out in the desert searching for…” A few false sobs erupted before she added, “An endangered species of butterfly. A species my sister is absolutely passionate about. One she even hoped to save by proving that they did exist right here in southeastern New Mexico.”

There were more pats on the hand, more eye dabbing before she added, “And Maddie thought she saw one. The butterfly, I mean. That’s when she left the Jeep.”

Hawkins glanced back in her direction again. “Maddie, huh? Yeah, Maddie suits you much better than Madeline.”

Maddie left the love seat long enough to drop her own empty soda can into the trash, then came to a stop beside him. “I’m sure Hawk suits you better, too.”

He laughed. “Sergeant Baker has a big mouth.”

“Well, I’m one chick Sergeant Baker won’t have to worry about,” Maddie said right back. “My hen-house is hawk proof.”

He sent her a we’ll-just-see-about-that grin, but the reporter spoke up again and turned their attention back to the television screen.

“Please go on,” the reporter encouraged.

Mary Beth’s lip did a little quiver before she looked straight into the camera again. “And that’s when I saw it.”

“The spacecraft, you mean?” the reporter clarified.

Mary Beth nodded, her eyes growing wide in an expressive fear mode. “It was huge,” she whispered. “Silent. Deadly. It swooped down so fast Maddie never knew what hit her. I couldn’t do a thing to help my poor sister. All I could do was scream.”

When Mary Beth dramatically covered her face with her hands and burst into tears, Maddie said, “I’m going to kill her.”