“I’ll take that ride now…”

Suddenly Cole couldn’t think. Maybe it was all the blood rushing south. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, draped it over Jordan’s shoulders and she slipped her arms in. Then he gestured for her to get on his motorcycle. “Where do you live?”

As she settled behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and her breasts pressed against his back. “I don’t want to go home.”

Her words socked him in the gut. “Where to, then?” He held his breath.

“Anywhere. Away from everything. Please.” Her arms tightened and one hand roamed over his chest, the other down over his zipper.

His breathing hitched, and as Cole sped onto Las Vegas Boulevard, all he could think about was the heat, and the movement of her plastered to him.

Jordan slid her hand and cupped him through his briefs. And even though she hadn’t moved her hand except to accommodate his lengthening, he was the most turned on he’d ever been in his life.

In fact, he felt as if one wrong move and she’d have him begging for mercy….

Dear Reader,

There’s nothing sexier than a man in uniform. And there’s no place more sizzling than Sin City, Las Vegas. Put the two together and you have a recipe for blazing passion. Eight miles north of the city is Nellis Air Force Base. It’s home to the Air Base Defense School, where the Raptors, the elite team of fighter pilots, practice air combat maneuvers in their F-22 jets. These real-life heroes—and heroines—risk their lives every time they take to the skies. They live life on the edge.

But what if a pilot was shot down in combat, injured and permanently grounded? I often think about our men and women who are wounded in the line of duty and how they adjust to life after combat. Maybe he or she will need a challenge of a different sort…hence the premise for my first novel.

I’m so thrilled to be writing for Harlequin Books and hope you enjoy my first Harlequin Blaze novel. If you liked reading about hot desert nights with a fighter pilot—in uniform, and out of it—I’d love to hear from you. Contact me at www.jillianburns.net. And remember, whenever you’re betting in Vegas, Let It Ride!

Enjoy!

Jillian Burns

Let It Ride
JILLIAN BURNS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jillian Burns has always read romance, and spent her teens immersed in the worlds of Jane Eyre and Elizabeth Bennett. She lives in Texas with her husband of twenty years and their three active kids. Jillian likes to think her emotional nature—sometimes referred to as moodiness—has found the perfect outlet in writing stories filled with passion and romance. She believes romance novels have the power to change lives with their message of eternal love and hope.

To Wanda Ottewell, for believing in me and sticking by me.

And to Kathryn Lye, for spinning gold from wheat.

And in honor of all America’s military heroes in Iraq and Afghanistan who gave their lives or were wounded in the service of their country.

I’d especially like to thank two brave air force personnel for supplying information on fighter pilots and the air force. Thank you to Major Paula Lieberman, ret., and Carrie Hester for being so patient with all my questions!

Any mistakes are entirely my own and not theirs.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

1

“TARGET SIGHTED. Three o’clock.” Major Cole Jackson nodded toward the amazingly hot blonde across the casino. “The Keno girl with the mile-long legs and the big—”

“Her?” Cole’s buddy, McCabe, snorted as he fed another five-dollar bill into a slot machine. “Good luck.”

“Why? What’s wrong with her?” She was the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. And after a decade of living on the wild side, that was saying a lot.

McCabe shrugged. “This is Vegas. You got your pick of women.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll start with her.” When Cole had spotted the Keno girl a moment ago the past months of hell had momentarily faded. Having her in his bed for a night or two would certainly help make up for lost time.

Cole’s buddies from Nellis Air Force Base had talked him into a week of rest and recreation to celebrate his discharge from the hospital. He was on medical leave until further notice—and who knew how long it would take the powers that be to decide his fate? But for now, he planned to party hard with his buddies and a city full of beautiful women. If he couldn’t be in the cockpit of his F-22, this would do.

He stared at the blonde as she moved around the casino, stopping at blackjack and roulette tables. He’d always been a sucker for blondes, and this one had his babe meter clocking in the stratosphere. Her lips alone sent his fantasies to places that could get him court-martialed. His gaze roamed lower to her skimpy red uniform. Damn, what it didn’t cover might burn his eyes to the sockets.

“You couldn’t even get to two Gs with that one, much less complete a roll. Trust me,” McCabe warned.

Ahh! Understanding clicked like an engine turning over in Cole’s brain. He shifted on his stool to face his buddy. “She shut you down.”

“Him and every other guy who’s tried,” Captain Alexandria Hughes chimed in from her stool next to McCabe, a satisfied smirk on her face. Their buddy since basic training, Hughes was the kind of chick who’d slug the first guy who tried to treat her like a girly female.

McCabe scowled at her, and then looked back at Cole. “I’m telling you, that Keno girl’s got a rep on base as Ms. Crash-and-Bur—” McCabe broke off.

There was a second of awkward silence before Cole jumped in. “Yeah, well, she hasn’t seen my maneuvers yet.”

“You’re full of it, man.” McCabe shook his head. “You nail her before my leave is up, and I’ll give up women for a month.” He raised an arrogant brow as he took a swig of beer.

Son of a bitch. McCabe had just challenged him. A rush of adrenaline coursed through Cole the way it had when he and McCabe and Grady and Hughes had all trained together, pushing the limits of their jets—and their commanders. If this Keno girl was hard to get, all the better. He didn’t want some pity fuck. He was ready for something to make him feel alive again. To prove he still had what it took.

And she was it.

“She got a fiancé? Boyfriend?” He’d make sure the playing field was level.

McCabe shrugged. “She was seeing someone—civilian—a while back, but the word is she hasn’t used that excuse lately.”

“Girlfriend?”

“God, what a waste that would be.” McCabe stared wistfully at the blonde, his slot machine forgotten.

Cole couldn’t agree more. If he’d ever dreamed of the perfect woman to hit the sheets with, she was it. Long, shapely thighs to cradle his hips and—his gaze went back to her chest—the kind of rack usually only seen in Hugh Hefner’s mansion. He stood, his comfortable Levi’s suddenly constricting. You were in the hospital too long, Jackson. But thankfully the crash hadn’t damaged anything vital to this mission. “All right. You got yourself a bet.”

“What?” McCabe’s gaze focused on Cole.

“You said you’d give up—”

“I know what the hell I said.”

“And she shot you down, right?”

“I prefer to think of it as a failure to pass the preflight check. It must be the uniform.” With his movie star looks and charm to spare, McCabe was the certified chick magnet of the group. He’d been known to bed two and three women in the same night. Occasionally at the same time.

“She got a rule against Air Force men?” Cole directed his question to Hughes. He wanted some high-level intel on his subject. Of course, he wasn’t in uniform tonight….

“I don’t know,” Hughes answered, her arms crossed over her desert-camo uniform. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Come on, Hughes, you aren’t turning all girly on us now, are you?” McCabe grinned at Hughes, but she didn’t return his smile.

She stood and finished her beer in one long gulp, then set the bottle down with a thunk. “Poor McCabe. Thirty days without a woman.” She leaned in close. “You won’t last.”

His face screwed up in confusion, McCabe watched Hughes stalk off. “What crawled up her ass?”

Cole shrugged. Air corps or Keno girl, females tended to stick together. Hughes was probably disgusted with him for making the bet. But this Keno girl had a rare kind of beauty that could make a guy forget everything that sucked about his life. Even without the bet, he’d go for her. And after months of surgeries and physical therapy, this challenge put him back into play.

It sure as hell beat sitting around the vet hospital listening to some shrink talk about post-traumatic stress disorder. So, he had a few night sweats and bad dreams. That was to be expected after being shot down and having to make it back to his base camp with a third of his body burned. He’d get over it eventually.

It was his future he was worried about.

All he’d ever wanted to do was be a fighter pilot, and eventually get into the space program. But that wasn’t going to happen now. Even if they didn’t force a medical discharge down his throat, with this permanent inner ear damage, the best he could hope for was a desk job. Either way, life as he knew it was over.

“So, what do I get if you lose?”

McCabe’s voice brought Cole back from his dark thoughts. He grinned at his buddy. “You get to save your right hand a lot of muscle strain over the next thirty days.”

“And you risk nothing? Screw that.”

“Screw what?” Lieutenant Colonel Grady appeared next to them with his perpetually grim expression. His hulking dark presence tended to scare most dogs and small children.

McCabe explained the challenge, and Grady cut his gaze to the Keno girl. His eyes widened and he whistled under his breath. “Oh, yeah. Ms. Cra—” He cleared his throat. “I’m in. How about that bottle of whiskey Jackson’s uncle left him?”

“Damn it, Grady,” Cole spoke up, “you’ve been after my Scotch since we were cadets and you don’t even drink. It’s fifty-year-old Cragganmore. You know how much it’s worth?”

“You want to back out?” McCabe taunted.

“Screw you, McCabe.” He could get this girl. He just needed to learn everything about her. “So, if I win, does Grady turn celibate, too?” Cole asked.

“Hey, I nev—” Grady began.

“Hell, no,” McCabe cut in. “He’s already got the worst temper in Nevada. What he needs is to relax. Learn yoga. Get a massage. There’s an old lady on the strip, does that herbal-aromatherapy stuff. I’d give a lot to see him get smeared with sweet-smelling oil and chanting New Age mumbo-jumbo.”

Cole grunted at the image. “Hell, I’d bet the whiskey to see that.”

“I want that Scotch. You’re on.” Grady stuck out his right hand to seal the deal and Cole shook it, his insides churning with the dare. He could already taste the sweet flavor of victory. And he couldn’t wait to see “Don Juan” McCabe suffer without a woman for a whole freakin’ month.

“Here she comes,” Grady warned.

A fruity scent teased Cole’s nostrils. Dammit, she’d approached him on his deaf side.

He spun to find the Keno girl standing next to him, his gaze drawn to the pale, soft flesh spilling out of her tight, red uniform top. He imagined palming those tits, rubbing his thumbs over the nipples. His body, long denied, roared into four Gs, but he called on years of discipline to focus his attention on her engaging smile and—man, her eyes were such a deep blue they were almost purple.

Up close she was flawless. Her lips moved, but she spoke so softly he couldn’t hear her above the rumble and ringing of the slots. He angled his head and leaned closer as he stood and pulled out his wallet.

“—buy a Keno card?” Her voice matched her appearance. Voluptuous and feminine.

“I’ll take two.” He slipped out a twenty and placed it on her tray.

She handed him the cards and he tossed them on his stool as she dug in her fanny pack for change.

“Keep it.” He covered her hand to stop her from making change. Damn, it was like ice. “You’re freezing.” He curved his fingers around her palm and enclosed her hand in both of his. Soft. Dainty. And so cold.

Her eyes widened, but she pasted on a bright smile as she eased from his grasp. “Thank you.” She turned to McCabe and her smile faltered a bit. “Did you want a card, Captain?”

“I think my friend here—” he slapped Cole on the back “—has it covered.” He turned to Grady. “You up for some poker?”

Grady nodded and they took their beers and headed deeper into the casino.

The Keno girl’s gaze shot back to Cole. “You’re a fighter pilot too? A friend of Captain McCabe’s?” There was a distinct edge to her voice. What the hell had McCabe done? Or did she have a grudge against all military personnel? Had some airman done her wrong?

He shook his head. “Not if you don’t want me to be.”

Her smile dropped and she raised a brow. “Don’t lose a friend on my account.” She turned to leave, but Cole sidestepped to block her retreat.

“Major Cole Jackson, 81st Airborne. And you are?”

She stared over his shoulder a moment, her lips a tight line. Bringing that gorgeous gaze up to meet his, she put her free hand on her hip. “Jordan Brenner. Mother of five. Looking for a man who can support me and all my kids.” Her expression said, Now will you leave me alone?

If she had five kids he’d stand on this slot machine and quack like a duck. “Five, huh? What are their names?”

Without missing a beat, she rattled off, “Anna, Billy, Charlie, David and—” she faltered, glanced down at the commercial-grade carpet, then back up at Cole “—Fred!” She smiled triumphantly.

Cole chuckled, unable to keep from returning her mischievous grin. Smiling pulled the scarred flesh on the right side of his face. “Not Eddie? Or Ethan? Or Eugene?”

A hum bubbled up from inside her, and a sweet laugh erupted, but was stifled just as quickly. Something inside Cole stilled. Why would she stop such a wonderful sound?

“All right. You caught me. I couldn’t think of an E name.” She shifted her tray of Keno cards to her other hip and her smile faded.

So did his.

“Aren’t you going to fill those out?” She nodded toward the Keno cards on his stool. “They’ll be starting another game soon.”

He glanced back and scooped them from the stool. “I’ve never played Keno before. Maybe you could show me?”

Wariness returned to her eyes, but she stepped closer, leaning in to point to his cards as she explained. He inhaled the scent of her fruity shampoo and closed his eyes. Damn. Heat raced up his spine.

“You can pick up to ten numbers on each card. The computer randomly chooses numbers between one and eighty and you win based on how many you matched.” She began rattling off the odds of certain numbers being chosen like a calculus professor.

“You really know your stuff.”

Her eyes narrowed. “For a blonde? Anyone with half a brain can figure odds if they work here long enough.”

So, she had a chip on her shoulder about being labeled a bimbo. He wanted to ask her how long she’d been a Keno girl. She couldn’t be much older than twenty-five. But he couldn’t open fire on her tonight. He’d do a little recon first.

“Just because you’re a beautiful blonde doesn’t mean you can’t be a genius, too. Look at Jayne Mansfield or Sharon Stone. Both have IQ levels close to Einstein’s.”

She stared at him, her face inscrutable. But something flickered briefly in her eyes and hit him right in the gut. As he stared back, the air between them vibrated as if he’d just started up the jets of his Raptor.

But he didn’t want to come on too strong too soon, so he broke eye contact, severing the connection. “I’ll let you get on with your work.”

She stepped away and fidgeted. “Enjoy the casino, Major.”

Cole watched her leave, enthralled with the way her perfect little butt moved beneath the miniskirt. A shock wave of lust roared through his blood straight to his dick and he tightened his jaw. Yeah, he needed to get control.

He’d made first contact. This time tomorrow, he’d have an intelligence report to aid him. Getting her into bed within a week? That was a challenge he was more than ripe for even without the added bonus of winning the bet.

JORDAN TRUDGED into the female employees’ room, tossed her tray in a bin and kicked off her heels. She was bone-tired, and her feet were killing her. Praying Mom had had a good afternoon and evening, Jordan snatched her time card and punched out. How long before Mom got to be too much for Mrs. Simco to handle?

“TGIF.” Sherri groaned as she rubbed her feet.

“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” Jordan did, but at least she didn’t have classes in the morning, only her regular shift tomorrow night. She and Mom spent Saturday mornings at the Laundromat.

“Umm-hmm, but somehow, saying ‘Thank God it’s Monday’ just doesn’t have the same kick.” Sherri grinned and peeled off her costume.

“True.” Jordan smiled.

“Besides, Friday means the kid is with his dad and Toby is picking me up. You want a ride, hon?” Sherri’s son was ten, but was already acting the rebellious teen. Toby was a bartender at the Luxor hotel and casino and got off work at the same time as Sherri.

“And where would I sit in his Miata? Besides, my apartment is totally out of your way.”

“I saw you talking to that tall, dark and dangerous guy with Captain McCabe…”

Oh, no. Here it comes. The you-need-to-get-laid speech.

“Which one? They all start looking alike after so many years.”

But she was lying. There’d been something about the scarred major that had lingered in her mind as she’d wandered the casino selling her cards. Something compelling that had nothing to do with his thick brown hair, or the subtle defensiveness in his bearing. It wasn’t even the scars running down the side of his neck and right hand. It was something in his eyes.

“You’re kidding, right?” Sherri threw her an incredulous look. “Dark hair, bomber jacket, fresh scars down the right side of his neck? Don’t you want to see if he’s got scars anywhere else?”

“He’s just like all the rest, Sherri.” No different than a thousand other hotshot flyboys roaming around The Grand.

Except…he’d made that comment about intelligence and beauty. And he’d made her laugh. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed out loud. And, most of all, he’d ended the encounter without propositioning her.

Stop with the fairy tale, Jordan. That’s what had gotten her into the mess her life had become in the first place.

Sherri scowled. “Are you still pining over Mr. Banker-dude?”

“After I caught him with that showgirl? No way!”

“So, forget about waiting for a commitment right now. Just have a wild fling. You don’t have to be in a relationship to get you some, girl. You need a man.”

Irritation overtook Jordan. Her friend had it wrong. She didn’t need anyone. She’d never depend on a man again. She’d run off with bad-boy-Ian and been deserted. And she’d dated safe-guy-Bob and been cheated on. It may have taken only two failed relationships, but she’d finally learned men weren’t reliable. She reined in her annoyance. Sherri was a good friend. She meant well. She’d helped Jordan a lot when she’d first started working here six years ago, teaching her how to earn bigger tips by smiling and flirting, and helping her evade the advances of the worst drunks.

“I know you’re thinking of my best interests, Sherri, but all I need is to ace my finals next week. And getting involved with some flyboy from Nellis will not help me memorize differential equations.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I always did better on a test if I had a good screw the night before. Helped me relax.”

“Sherri!” Jordan managed not to roll her eyes.

“All I’m sayin’ is, that was one fine piece of man-meat staring at you tonight like you rocked his world. Just think about it if you see him again.”

Think about it? Hadn’t she just been convincing herself not to think about him?

After she changed clothes she left through the hotel’s employees’ entrance, heading for the bus stop past the parking garage behind the hotel. Even at two in the morning, Vegas vibrated with noisy traffic and tourists. But she’d long grown tired of the bright flashing lights she’d once found so exciting.

She glanced down the street toward the bus stop and spotted the bus already there. Jordan dodged a few cabs and a limo as she sprinted across the street. “Wait!” She waved her arm just as the bus pulled away in a wheezing cloud of exhaust.

“Crap!” It’d be twenty minutes before the next bus came by. She stuck her fists inside her denim jacket pockets and shifted her weight from sneaker to sneaker. Her body screamed for a hot bath and a soft bed, so she closed her eyes and envisioned the day she earned her programming degree. Once she did, her life would change.

She’d get a respectable job with a decent salary. Buy a home of her own with two bedrooms so she wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch. Have professional care for her mom. All she had to do was stay smart, stay focused.

Not let some Casanova derail her plans. Again.

But every once in a while her heart just wanted to let loose all the wild feelings inside. Toss the laundry basket and run screaming into the night.

“Hey.” A strong hand gripped her arm and Jordan jumped. “Got a dollar?”

She let out a relieved breath as she recognized one of the bums that slept in the alley behind the hotel. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. But booze wasn’t the worst odor. Poor old guy. But for the grace of God…

A motorcycle engine revved and tires screeched. “Let go of the lady,” a deep voice ordered from behind her.

The old man yanked his hand away and backed off.

Jordan spun around.

The Air Force major. He sat astride a monstrous black motorcycle, his gaze focused menacingly on the old man. His tight, low-riding jeans and black leather jacket personified danger as he curled his fists around the handlebars.

Her body sizzled as she stared at him. The image burned into her psyche, drawing her into the fantasy of the rugged loner coming to her rescue, sweeping her into his arms and—

“I’m fine, Major,” she blurted out to stop her crazy dream. She unzipped her backpack and dug around for one of the prepaid cards she’d bought. One of the diners close to her apartment had a program for the homeless. A way to ensure a handout didn’t go to buy booze. “This will get you a hot meal and coffee at Zelda’s Café on fifty-fourth.” She handed the old man the card, and he snatched it from her and took off.

From the corner of her eye she saw the major get off the bike and move toward her.

“You shouldn’t encourage those people.”

She turned. “He’s harmless.”

He rubbed his jaw and took a step toward her.

Her chest tightened as he came closer. Her insides coiled with a tension she’d been trying to deny since his comment about blond geniuses. She knew it was just a pickup line, and she’d heard better. But he’d said it as if he really believed it.

“That happen often?”

She shook her head. “No. At least, not in a while.”

His dark eyes searched her body, his gaze moving down from her breasts to her legs and up again.

Her stomach clenched with a sharp ache. It’d been too long since she’d had sex, that’s all. Why had she waited? Oh, yeah. The whole trying-not-to-make-the-same-mistake-twice thing. She’d told Bob she wanted to wait until they were really committed, and he’d agreed. Too easily, she could see now. And it’d been easy for her, too. Easy and safe.

She’d never felt the kind of ache for Banker Bob that she did tonight for the Air Force major.

“He’ll probably trade the card for booze or dope,” he said.

Straightening her shoulders, she bristled. “Well, I have to try.” His subtle musky cologne drifted to her on the breeze and she drew in a long, slow breath.

He looked down the street, then back at her. “I could give you a ride.”

She studied his black bike. Almost a quarter of a century old and she’d never ridden on a motorcycle. An image invaded her mind of riding behind him, her cheek pressed against his back and her palms clutching his hard abs. The vise in her chest squeezed with a dangerous desire.

“Hey, I understand.” The major headed for his bike and swung his leg over the seat. He looked at her as he rolled the bike forward and the kickstand lifted. “You don’t know me.” His jaw muscle clenched as he turned the key and started the engine. The bike roared to life and he set his boot on the steel footrest and looked up at her. “Yet.” Without another word he curled his fists and took off out of the parking lot.

A panicky sense of lost opportunity swept over her. Something inside her wanted to run after him and yell at him to come back, that she’d changed her mind. It was her gnawing inner voice begging for a night of reckless abandon. How could she feel so out of control? How could she even consider it?

Then the bike made a U-turn down the street and roared back into the nightclub parking lot behind her. The engine shut off, and he shoved the kickstand down and strode toward her. She watched the sway of his hips, the tight fit of his T-shirt beneath the jacket, the set of his jaw.

“Decided I’d wait with you until the bus comes.”

Jordan tried to swallow past the hard lump in her throat. Even security-conscious Banker Bob had never been willing to lose sleep to make sure she got home okay. “Thank you.”

He nodded, but didn’t speak, just stood next to her with his arms crossed over his chest.

His leather-mixed-with-man scent tantalized her. The coil in her tightened more, her muscles tensed and she couldn’t even look at him.

You’re an idiot, Jordan Brenner. So, he was sexy. So were a thousand other players trolling the casino looking to get laid. He just had a different approach. She should remember this guy was a friend of Captain McCabe’s, the most prolific serial dater in Nevada. And, she wasn’t a naive eighteen-year-old anymore, a girl who ran off with the first guy to charm her jeans off. She had responsibilities. She didn’t get swept off her feet.

When the bus pulled up, she climbed aboard without a backward glance.

2

“JORDAN ELIZABETH, this underwear is indecent!” Tammy Brenner hissed as she held up a pair of thong panties.

Snatching them from her mom’s fingers, Jordan sighed. “They’re for work, Mom. So they don’t show under the uniform, remember?”

“I don’t like you working in that place,” Tammy said. “Showing off everything God gave you.”

At least today Mom remembered where Jordan worked. “It won’t be for much longer. Soon, I’ll have my degree.” She stuffed the rest of their underwear and bras into a clean trash bag and carried the empty laundry basket over to the buzzing dryer. “Then I’ll start applying for a better job.” Her stomach clenched at the thought. A part of her was so ready to get away from casino work. Another was scared to death. What if she failed her finals? Or what if all the corporate honchos took one look at her and decided she wasn’t qualified? She needed to buy an ultra-conservative business suit. And maybe darken her hair…

The boom of jet engines scraped across the sky as the Thunderbirds’ buzzed over the city, practicing maneuvers. Car alarms went off outside the Laundromat and her mother started screaming.

“What is that? What’s happening?” Tammy’s voice escalated and started to quiver.

Jordan rushed over and put her arm around her mom. “It’s only the jets from the air base, Mom, remember?”

“I want to go home. My regulars at the diner will miss me.”

Oh, no. She’d been doing so well this morning.

“But I need you here with me. We make a great team, don’t we?”

When her mom didn’t answer, Jordan gave up and stuffed the last of the towels from the dryer into the basket. She knew from experience she better get her mom home as soon as possible. Sticking the basket under her arm, she snatched up the trash sack of clean clothes, and led her mom by the arm out of the Laundromat.

“No. I want to go back to my house. I hate this place!” Tammy jerked out of her hold and stopped on the already scorching sidewalk, glaring at Jordan as if the illness was all her fault.

And maybe it was. If she hadn’t quarreled with her mom and run off to Vegas with Ian, maybe her mom wouldn’t have had the breakdown and been fired. No. The two incidents were years apart. Not related. She refused to start another self-destructive spiral of blame. Mom had Alzheimer’s. A medical condition that had nothing to do with a teenage daughter’s stupid mistake.

“Let’s go home, Mom. We can watch Sleepless in Seattle again before I go to work, okay? Would you like that?” She tried to lead her mom gently toward the bus stop, speaking soothingly about visiting Mrs. Simco and seeing her new fish. Mom loved watching Mrs. S’s aquarium. But when the bus pulled up, and she tried to get her mother to climb the steep metal steps, Tammy wouldn’t budge.

“No!” She stuck her bottom lip out like a toddler and shook her head, refusing to move.

Jordan shifted the basket of towels higher on her hip and put her arm around her mom’s shoulders. “It’s okay. You like riding the bus.”

“I want to go home,” Tammy wailed. She twisted out of Jordan’s grasp and headed at a brisk walk down the sidewalk.

“Mom!” Jordan dropped the clean clothes and went after her. Her mother shouted and cried for someone to help her as Jordan tried to reason with her.

Several people were staring, but that was the least of her worries. The last time Tammy had been this bad, it had taken a trip to the doctor’s office and a sedative to calm her down. Just getting her to the doctor had been a nightmare involving a 911 call.

The knowledge that her mother would require a special facility soon broke Jordan’s heart.

One day at a time. The saying had become her mantra. Sometimes it was the only thing that held the panic at bay and allowed her to keep going.

“Look, Mama.” Jordan pointed at the convenience store beside them. “They have slurpies. Can I have one?” Asking for her mom’s permission was an inspired tactic. Soon, Tammy had bought her little girl her favorite childhood treat and was happily back at the bus stop with their clean clothes, which by some miracle were still sitting where Jordan had dropped them. Crisis averted.

For today.

A LOUD BANGING jerked Cole off the bed into a crouch, his right hand scrambling for his weapon. It took a moment for desert terrain to fade and the lush hotel room to come into focus. His breath came in short, heavy spurts. He wasn’t in hostile territory, covered in sand and blood, making his painful way back to base.

Snapping his wrist up, he checked the time, wiped his temple on his shoulder, and stood. Eighteen hundred hours. Six o’clock. In the evening.

The hotel door banged again. McCabe yelled, “Jackson, you in there?”

Cole scrubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair, then moved to let his buddy in. “Geez, McCabe, what the hell’s with all the pounding?” Not waiting for an answer, he turned and headed for the john, leaving McCabe to make himself at home.

When he returned, McCabe was slouched in a corner wing chair, boots propped on the writing desk.

“You could have just called my cell,” Cole said, rummaging through his duffel.

“I did.”

Damn. Cole hadn’t heard his cell ring. He still hadn’t adjusted to not being a hundred percent. Like he wasn’t a whole man.

Maybe it was true.

“You look like crap, buddy. You been asleep all day?” McCabe asked.

“I’m on vacation.” After seeing Jordan safely on the bus, he’d come back to his room, but he hadn’t slept much. He’d had the nightmare again and then he’d lain awake thinking about his last mission, going over in his head what he could have done differently. If he hadn’t been such a damn hotshot.

Avoiding his thoughts, he’d headed for the Centrifuge downstairs—God love Vegas’s twenty-four-hour casinos—and nursed a couple of tequilas until soaps came on the television behind the bar. But he wasn’t about to admit any of this to McCabe.

McCabe leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “I got us tickets to the Bullring at the Motor Speedway tonight,” McCabe said. “Thought we’d head over to the all-you-can-eat lobster at the Mandalay first. Grady and Hughes are waiting downstairs.”

The thought of seafood made his stomach heave. “You guys go on.” He shot his buddy a cocky grin. “I’ve got a bet to win.” No way he could hold his head up around McCabe if he lost this wager. They’d been competitors since their first day of flight training.

McCabe shot off the chair. “Are you kidding me? These are front-row seats to Legends Cars. They got Thunder Roadsters, man. That Keno girl won’t end her shift until 2:00 a.m. You got plenty of time.”

He didn’t know which irritated him more. That McCabe called her ‘that Keno girl,’ or that he knew when her shift ended. “Her name’s Jordan.”

“Who?”

“The blonde from last night. Jordan Brenner.” He smiled remembering the way she’d introduced herself. “Mother of five.”

“What? She’s got kids?”

He looked at McCabe. “No, she—Never mind.”

“You okay, buddy?”

“I’m good. Thanks for the ticket, but I’m flying solo tonight.”

Cole headed to the bathroom, lathered up some shaving cream, and smeared it over his jaw.

“So, you’re going to sit around in the casino for eight hours and watch her work?”

“Watching a woman like that beats watching souped-up roadsters race around a track hands-down.”

“Fine. But it won’t make any difference with her.”

Cole shot McCabe a parting hand gesture and then finished shaving, his thoughts centered on Jordan. His pulse revved up as he yanked the tags off a new shirt. Just thinking about her dusted all the morbid cobwebs from his mind.

With the thrill of the challenge coursing through his veins, and the thought of getting that gorgeous body beneath his, he went down to the casino.

“THIS IS all your fault, McCabe.” Hughes scowled at him, and then took a huge bite out of her hot dog.

Captain Mitch McCabe scooted along the hard metal bleacher and picked up a nacho. The Speedway was crowded tonight, the roadsters were amazing, and the hot dogs and beers were only a dollar. What was not to love? “What’d I do now?” He had to raise his voice over the roar of the stock cars revving up at the starting line.

“Making that bet with Jackson. Is nothing sacred? The man’s been in the hospital for two months, for Pete’s sake.”

“Why is it always for Pete’s sake? What’s Pete got that I don’t?”

Hughes glared at him and punched his arm.

“Ow!” He rubbed his arm. Good ol’ Hughes never had qualms about telling a person exactly how she felt. That’s what he liked about her. He gestured to Grady on his other side, sipping a bottle of water. “He was in on it, too. Why is it my fault?” Mitch blamed himself for a lot of things, but not the bet last night.

“You’re the one who challenged him to go after that poor girl. How do you think she would feel if she knew he was just trying to win a bet?”

“First of all—” Mitch swallowed a chip dripping with gooey cheese “—poor girl? The woman can take care of herself. She sure as hell shut me down.”

“And that’s why you really did this, isn’t it?” Hughes just wouldn’t let it go. “You’re infuriated that some woman actually turned you down.”

“Second—” he planned on ignoring that remark “—Jackson needed a challenge. Trust me, this is just the thing to take his mind off his situation.”

Grady grunted. “Permanently grounded.” He shook his head. “But the Air Force has reassigned pilots before.”

“If they don’t discharge him,” Hughes said.

“Did Jackson mention a reassignment request?” Mitch kind of hoped Jackson might get assigned here at Nellis.

Grady shook his head. “Not to me. And it could take weeks for his commanding officer to get the paperwork in order one way or the other. He’s just gonna have to wait it out. You know how it is. Hurry up and wait.”

When Mitch had first heard Jackson had been shot down and was MIA, guilt and worry had kept his insides churning. Then they’d heard Jackson had wandered into the Iraqi base camp after two days in the desert, looking more dead than alive. And he hadn’t looked much better when Mitch had visited him in Maryland at the hospital at Andrews AFB.

The memory burned like acid in his stomach. He should have been there, with his buddy, in Iraq, watching his back. And he would have been if he hadn’t made an ass of himself over Luanne.

Mitch’s hand hurt and he looked down. He opened his clenched fist and stretched the fingers until he could feel them again. The track came into focus and he realized he’d missed the first two laps of the race thinking about those dark days of his divorce.

He glanced over at Hughes and something eased inside him. She was leaning forward, elbows on knees, watching the race the same way she did everything: with intense interest. Her ball cap was turned backward, as usual. Her cheeks were bulging with the last of her hot dog, and she had a glob of mustard on the corner of her mouth.

He grinned, glad she was back after two years stationed at Langley. She was the kind of pal who stuck by you through hell and back and always told it like it was. He never had to guess what she was thinking and she never ever lied to him.

Either she was involved in watching the race, or she didn’t want to yell over the noise, but he knew she hadn’t dropped the subject.

And sure enough, as the tow trucks cleared the track of a messy crash, she turned to him. “It was a stupid thing to do, McCabe. Jackson may like the challenge, but what if that girl turns him down? Have you thought about how it might affect him? He’ll be worse off than before. And minus his treasured bottle of Scotch.”

Mitch shrugged. “We’ve always competed, always dared each other. And you know he wouldn’t want to be treated any different just because he’s been injured.”

Hughes stared at him with pursed lips, and then looked down at the beer she held between her legs. “I guess you’re right.”

It struck him suddenly that Hughes had changed since being at Langley. Something was different. He wondered if something had happened. Well, if she wanted to talk about it, she’d bring it up. “Hey, how about we hit Duffy’s after this? See if we can get lucky tonight.” He grinned at her.

The look she gave him was…weird. Like she pitied him or something. Yeah—even though they’d kept in touch, sending text messages and e-mails—Hughes was different. Used to be she’d flip him off after falling for his latest practical joke. Then she’d shoot him an evil grin and plot her revenge.

But lately, she just seemed testy.

First, Jackson’s risk of being discharged. Now, whatever was bugging Hughes…These guys were the only buddies he had. Mitch felt his world was changing. And damn, he hated change.

COLE HAD CONVINCED himself Jordan couldn’t be as beautiful as he’d remembered.

But she was.

Seeing her tonight hit him hard all over again. He watched her for a half hour, studying her smile and gestures, the swing of her butt and the sensuous shift of her breasts when she moved. She looked at him a couple of times, meeting him stare for stare. He considered smiling and waving, but the mood didn’t seem to warrant it. Her mouth would tighten and she’d break eye contact.

His mission tonight was to make discreet inquiries of her coworkers. He hit pay dirt with a redheaded Keno girl who seemed to relish playing matchmaker.

He learned Jordan had worked at The Grand almost six years and that she attended the University of Nevada at Las Vegas weekday mornings. The redhead said she’d been seeing a banker several months ago, but no one since. Cole already knew she had a soft spot for homeless bums. And one other thing he’d picked up last night: when he’d told her he’d wait with her until her bus came, the look on her face had left him…aroused.

Unfortunately, tonight that shocked and vulnerable look was nowhere to be seen. As soon as Jordan spotted him waiting for her in the parking lot behind the bus stop, she called out to him.

“I don’t need a bodyguard, Major. Really, it’s fine.”

Cole raised a brow, shoved the kickstand down and got off his Harley. “Maybe.” He closed the distance between them. “Maybe not.”

Damned if she didn’t look sexier in her civilian clothes. Her teased hair and showgirl makeup seemed out of place with the faded jeans, denim jacket and worn sneakers.

She crinkled her brow, and then checked the street. “I wait here every night. I’m perfectly safe.”

“Would anyone stop to help if you got mugged?” He grunted. “Maybe, maybe not.”

A withering sigh escaped her as she turned back to stare at him. “So, is this what you do? Ride around all night patrolling the strip looking for damsels in distress?”

“Used to patrol the Baghdad strip, does that count?” A smile tugged one side of his mouth. “Look. Maybe we could just talk until your bus gets here.”

“At two in the morning, you want to have a stimulating conversation about…?”

“About you.”

“Why?”

“You interest me. Is that so hard to believe?” Unbelievably, it was true. She was fascinating. He wanted to know everything about her.

“Yes.” She glanced along the street again, as if willing the bus to hurry. Damn, that was rough on a guy’s ego.

“You think you know me, or my type.” It wasn’t a question, but he wanted to see what she’d say. He stepped closer, and she instinctively took a step back. He cocked his head. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No. I just don’t trust you.”

He didn’t blame her. “Fair enough. In your line of work, you’ve probably dealt with your share of jerks. You think I’m only after sex?” Wasn’t he?

“Aren’t you?”

“I could get that anywhere in this town.”

“Then go for it.”

The challenge flamed in his chest. “I don’t want anyone else.”

“So, you admit you want to get laid.”

He blinked. She was no shrinking violet, was she? But there was no reason not to be honest with each other. “What red-blooded man doesn’t?” he said with a shrug. “I never claimed to be celibate.” He folded his arms. “Look, I won’t deny the minute I saw you, I was attracted to you. And it’d be great if we got together. But you’re…interesting. I haven’t asked you up to my hotel room, or tried to put my hands all over you. I just thought I’d get to know you.”

She frowned, and something about the look in her eyes made him think she might be wavering.

“Here’s the deal,” he said. “You ask me something about me, and then I get to ask you a question.”

“You assume I want to know you.”

“Fine. We’ll stand here avoiding each other in awkward silence until your bus comes.”

She surprised him by letting out a frustrated half growl, half groan. “All right, Major. You’ve seen combat?”

“Call me Cole. And yeah. Served one tour in Afghanistan and two in Iraq.”

“And you’re going back when your leave is over?”

Back into combat? Not likely. The thought of a desk job, or—even worse—a medical discharge, made his throat close up. And knowing he’d never fly again was a physical pain in his chest. But he couldn’t talk about it.

“My turn.” He studied her intensely for a second. What did he most want to know? “What’s your favorite time of day?”

She looked puzzled. Good. He’d caught her off guard. “Early mornings.” She cleared her throat. “Your injuries.” She gestured toward his neck. “Were you…shot down?”

He kept his features blank as he nodded, then smiled and stepped closer, wanting to catch a whiff of her unique scent. “Yoga at sunrise and herbal tea, am I right?”

She shook her head and barely stopped a smile. “Pilates and diet cola. At nine. Did you get a Purple Heart?”

He grimaced. “Not yet.” And he wasn’t likely to since he’d disobeyed orders. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Now why,” she frowned, “would you waste one of your questions on something like that?”

“We didn’t put a limit on questions.”

“Hmm. Maybe we should have.”

In answer he merely raised a brow.

Then she actually, finally, smiled. “Okay, okay. Ben and Jerry’s Oatmeal Cookie Chunk.”

Man, she was beautiful. And real, somehow.

“Let’s see…” She put her finger to her lips and studied him from head to toe. “Any brothers and sisters?”

He nodded. “Two of each.”

“Wow. Four siblings? I always wanted a brother or a sister.”

“Believe me.” He moaned and shook his head, recalling all the torment he’d lived through as the youngest of five. “Count your blessings. Five kids. One bathroom. You’re the math whiz. What were my odds?”

She laughed and something eased inside him.

“You’re calling me a math whiz? I know what kind of intelligence it takes to become a fighter pilot.”

Taking a half step toward her, he reached out with one finger and touched her cheek. “You have a beautiful laugh.”

Her smile dropped, but she didn’t push his hand away. If he moved one millimeter closer, her nipples would brush his leather jacket. She licked her lips and he couldn’t stop a raspy sound from escaping his throat as he caught the action. What could she do to him with those lips?

“Whose turn is it for a question?” she asked quietly.

His mouth hovered above hers. Had she leaned toward him? He lowered his head a fraction more. “Mmm. Mine.” His lips brushed the corner of her mouth. “When’s your next day off?” he mumbled against her cheek, then nuzzled along her jaw.

“Tuesday.” Her voice sounded breathy and she softened against him. His cock swelled in his jeans.

His finger glided up her throat and lifted her chin. Just as their lips touched, the bus gasped to a stop beside them. She jerked her head back and stepped away.

But this time, after she found a seat, Cole caught her glancing back at him with a disturbed expression.

He ran a hand through his hair, and then turned toward his bike. He sure as hell didn’t want to head to the hotel yet. It wasn’t as if he’d sleep anyway. He was still as hard as stone.

He’d been so close. So close to tasting her. To feeling her in his arms. And he hadn’t even planned that move. He needed more sleep. And sex. Ten months in Iraq. Three in the hospital. Geez, it’d been more than a year since he’d spread a woman’s thighs and lain between them. Felt them wrap around him as he pushed into her.

Into Jordan. He couldn’t picture any other woman in his bed right now. He closed his eyes as he remembered the softness of her cheek. The chase made him feel alive again, but so did the woman herself. And he only had five more days to seduce her if he wanted to win that bet with McCabe.

3

SUNDAY NIGHT Jordan headed for the break room, dreaming not of slipping out of her heels and getting off her feet for a half hour, but of the feel of Cole’s lips brushing hers.

She’d been playing with fire by giving in to his suggestion last night, and she’d come close to letting him burn her resolve to a crisp. His hard body had fitted so rightly against hers, and his touch had sizzled along her skin.

She stopped in her tracks when she walked into Cole pacing by the break-room door clutching a paper bag. Her world filled with the fragrance of heated musky aftershave and old leather.

Oh, no. Her resistance was already weak. She didn’t know if she could fight her feelings tonight. It felt as if the coil inside her chest would snap at any moment. If only there was such a thing as an inoculation against sexual attraction.

She stepped back and flattened the empty tray against her chest like a shield. “Are you stalking me, Major?”

He gave her a skeptical look. “It’s Cole. And do stalkers usually bring their victims Oatmeal Cookie Chunk?” He held out the paper sack.

“What?” She set the tray on a nearby stool, then cautiously took the bag and peered inside. “It really is—” She looked up at him. “But where did you—” She stared into the bag again. How in the world…They only have this flavor at Christmas. How’d you find it in May?”

He grinned. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“I bet.” She didn’t try to hide the sarcasm in her tone. “Look, I’m not—” Oh man, she couldn’t be that rude. Dropping her gaze to the floor, she stalled by shifting her weight from foot to foot before looking up at him. “Thank you for the thought, but—” she shoved the bag against his chest “—I have to go.” She twisted away.

“Jordan.”

She stopped, but didn’t turn back.

“It’s just ice cream.”

For the first time she doubted her instincts. Was she being too cynical? Had she let the world change her into one of those bitter man-haters? Rather, experience had taught her a few valuable lessons. There was a difference between bitterness and discretion.

She spun on her heels and pinned him with an accusing eye. “You’re wasting my time, and yours, Major. I’m not interested.”

He scowled, his brows lowered to create a deep crease. Tossing the ice cream on the stool with the tray, he closed the distance between them, seized her shoulders, and lowered his head to take her lips.

Jordan stiffened at first, trying to fight the rush of heat assailing her, but his lips were so persuasive, so thorough in their lush assault, she quickly surrendered. The taste of him flooded her senses as he slid in just a touch of his tongue. Recklessly, she deepened the kiss, pressing her body to his. Her arms snaked around his neck, and her fingers curled into his thick hair.

No. She wouldn’t give in. She couldn’t allow herself to be ruled by her impulses again. She pulled away. “Stop.”

He dropped his hands from her back, his breathing deep and ragged. “I want you, Jordan. I’m only in Vegas for a week. I don’t know where I’ll end up after that. For me, there’s only now. And all I know is, I want you. No promises. No strings. No games.”

She searched his face, staring at him for any sign of duplicity. But all she could see in his deep-brown eyes was need. Intense and unvarnished.

Finally, she looked away. “I appreciate your honesty, Cole. But I’m not good at that kind of thing.” She brushed past him and darted into the break room.

THE FLUORESCENT LIGHTS cast a jaundiced glow as Jordan wound her way through the casino after her break. The rumble and beeping of slot machines echoed the feeling in her chest. Agitated. On edge. She was either the smartest single woman on the planet or the stupidest person to ever sell Keno cards. She caught herself searching the casino for the major, but he was gone.

The same frantic regret from the other night filled her. His kiss had burned all the way down her body. Why had she told him no? What was she saving herself for? She’d been careful for so long, trying not to repeat her mistakes. But choosing a man she thought was a nice guy hadn’t worked out, either. Banker Bob had still dumped her for a showgirl. So, why not have a fling with some guy who at least admitted he only wanted a one-time deal?

She’d assumed he’d been stationed at Nellis. But he’d said he was only in Vegas for a week. Maybe he was returning to combat? Maybe he wouldn’t make it back next time. The last thought made her chest hurt.

She was almost due to clock out. All she had to do was make it through tomorrow, then she’d be off work for two days. But, she had to spend every free moment studying. Even tonight when she got home. Failing was not an option. As she strolled around the slots, her headache sharpened, shooting down to the base of her skull.

She needed a clone. Just for this week. Just until she could get her degree. She dreaded going home and dealing with Mom. And what kind of ungrateful daughter did that make her? All her life her mother had been there for her. No matter what. She used to say, “You and me against the world, kiddo. We’ll make it as long as we stick together.” And she’d been right.

But it was Cole’s words that played in her head like a looped movie trailer…all I know is, I want you. The raspy hunger in his voice made her breathing hitch.

She missed sex. She bit her lip at how she’d almost told him she wanted him, too. To take her to his hotel room. Or his apartment on base, or whatever. Wherever. Anywhere. As long as he threw her on the bed and they went at it like horny teens. Just for a few wild, reckless hours.

Sherri was right. A hot bout of sex would release the stress and help her study. Sex didn’t always have to be about love and commitment. Sex was really just about sex. The tension inside her stretched so taut she’d snap if she didn’t relieve some of the pressure.

“Well, hi there, pretty thang,” a tall youngish guy grabbed her bottom.

She knocked his hand away. “Get lost!” She couldn’t take it anymore. Was this what she had to look forward to for the rest of her life if she flunked her finals?

“Jordan!” her boss came up behind her, soothing the guy with a card for a complimentary dinner before he took her arm and urged her toward the break room. “You know how it works. If someone gets handsy, call security. You never, ever yell at the customers. Now, clock out. Go home.” He gave her a serious glare. “Don’t ever let that happen again.”

Oh, my gosh. What had she done? She needed this job. And she’d been a model employee for years. Working double shifts, and filling in for absent or late co-workers. He wouldn’t fire her for this one infraction, would he?

A crazy rebellion boiled to the surface. So what if he did? Hadn’t she already been deserted in this unfamiliar city without a job? She’d survive somehow. Without even bothering to change, she threw her backpack over one shoulder and stalked out of the hotel.

Forget it. Just for tonight, she didn’t want to be responsible. She didn’t want to keep denying her needs. And she didn’t want to always wonder how hot the sex might have been with Major Cole Jackson.

Too bad she’d turned him down.

COLE CRUISED around Vegas, his mind mulling over new strategies to make Jordan give in to him.

Never mind the challenge, he needed her. It had nothing to do with proving himself to his buddies. He just…needed her.

And it didn’t take a brain surgeon to know she felt the same pull of desire he did. Their kiss had sparked every nerve ending he had, and he’d felt it igniting all through her and back into him.

But how to keep her from hitting the all-systems-off button again?

Winning was all about tactics. Tonight, he’d lost his cool and scared Jordan off. Bad habit. Leaping before he thought. Failing to curb his impulses. Same reason he’d gotten shot down.

As he pulled the Harley into the Grand’s parking garage, he heard a screech of tires and a car horn honking. From the corner of his eye he caught a flash of red sequins in front of the honking cab. What the hell? Jordan was flipping the driver the bird as she strode past, heading back toward the hotel from the bus stop. And she was staring right at him.

Their gazes met. Her eyes flared. A tense energy radiated from her. My God. He was completely captivated. Her blond hair flowed around her shoulders, reminding him of a proud lioness.

He U-turned his bike into the exit lane and pulled up next to her.

There was a wild look in her eyes. “I’ll take that ride now.”

Suddenly, he couldn’t think. Maybe it was all the blood rushing south. She wasn’t usually in her work clothes at the bus stop. And she wasn’t usually off this early. Something must have happened.

He shrugged out of his jacket, draped it over her shoulders and she slipped her arms in. Then he gestured for her to get on. “Where do you live?”

As she settled behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and her breasts pressed against his back. “I don’t want to go home.”

Her words socked him in the gut. “Where to, then?” He held his breath.

“Anywhere. Away from everything.” Her voice trembled.

He could take her there and beyond. But he’d have to be a world-class jerk to take advantage of her in this mood. “Look, maybe you should—”

“Just get me out of here. Please.” Her arms tightened and one hand roamed over his chest, the other down over his zipper.

His breathing hitched and his dick tried to jump into her palm. He clamped his jaw shut. “Zip the coat. The wind bites.”

Her arms left him and he heard the zip, and when she hugged him this time her hands spread across his stomach and chest. He checked the traffic, then roared out of the parking garage.

As Cole sped onto Las Vegas Boulevard, all he could think about was the heat, the slightest breath and movement, of her plastered against his back.

Once they passed the city limits she slid her hand under his belt and cupped his rock-hard cock through his briefs. And even though she hadn’t moved her hand except to accommodate his lengthening, he was the most turned-on he’d ever been in his life. He felt as if one wrong move could have him begging for mercy.

Why hadn’t he taken her straight up to his room? Because he’d heard the restlessness in her voice. She wanted to escape the hotel and everything it stood for. And so did he. Heading out into the desert night with her clinging tightly to him brought a primal urge to the surface—to haul his woman away from the world and keep her for himself.

With the eternal lights of Vegas only a glow on the horizon behind them, he slowed down, pulled off the road and into the dirt, and killed the engine. Beyond his headlight’s beam, the sand and scrub disappeared into black nothingness, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. He could hear his ragged breathing, and hers. He could smell his desire. And hers.

He twisted to look at her, his hands squeezing the handlebars. Wondering if she’d leave him blue-balled, he searched her eyes.

She framed his face with her hands and pulled his mouth to hers. Her kiss tasted of desperate hunger as she slipped her tongue inside.

Fumbling to kick down the bike stand, he took control of the kiss, taking it deep and wet. But she pulled away.

“This is just for tonight, right? Like you said—no promises.”

“Uh…yeah, sure.” At this point, he would have signed a contract in blood.

She nodded and slowly unzipped the jacket.

He unbuckled his belt, gripped her around the waist and pulled her in front of him, onto his lap. While she thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, she somehow straddled the seat to face him and hooked her legs over his thighs.

After that, things got frantic. Dug through his wallet for a condom. Ran his hands through her silky hair the way he’d been dreaming of. And never stopped kissing her. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth and tongue, or her sweet, sexy whimpers.

Her hands were all over him, too. Her fingers combed through the hair at the back of his neck, and he shivered. She grabbed the edge of his T-shirt and lifted it to run her hands over his chest, tweaking his nipples until he wanted to squirm and beg. Then she roamed down to unbutton and unzip him and her fingers grazed his stiff, sensitive cock. Their mouths never breaking contact, she pulled down his briefs and encircled him. Sensations exploded. She stroked him with long, sensual pulls.

Oh, yes. His desire crested. He needed release. He needed to have her surrounding him.

Only vaguely aware that he’d moaned and growled like some crazed animal, he pushed into her caress. Then her hand and mouth were gone as she leaned back, yanked off his jacket and draped it over the handlebars. Closing her eyes, she pulled her top over her head, taking her bra with it. Thankful he’d left his headlight on, Cole licked his lips at the sight of her lush, round breasts. Blood pounded in his ears as he stared at her.

His cock twitching, he cupped her breasts and squeezed them, lifting one to his mouth. Her skin tasted sweet and salty and spicy all at once. Her nipples were perfect, large and dusky. He suckled and licked and buried his nose between the heavy mounds as he kissed their silken flesh.

He might never get enough of them. She was the ultimate high. One taste and he’d become a Jordan junkie.

As soon as the thought hit, his cock jumped and ached. He trailed kisses down to her quivering stomach, biting lightly, nibbling into her belly button and farther down to the edge of her panties. He wanted to be inside her now. “Take them off.” With both hands, he gripped her waist and lifted her while she reached beneath her skirt and peeled them off, one long leg at a time. “Grip the bars behind you, and put your feet on my thighs.” He cupped her butt and raised her warm pussy to his lips.

She was wet, so wet for him. He lapped at her sweet juice and licked her swollen clit, teasing it with gentle bites. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last.

As he plunged his tongue in and played with her soft folds, she made little moaning sounds and called out. He looked up to see her silhouetted against the light, her chest rising and falling, her hair blowing in the sandy breeze. Her eyes were squeezed closed, and the expression on her face as she opened them pierced him. He’d never had a woman come so fast.

He slid one hand up her damp back and she let go of the handlebars and wrapped her arms around his neck. Somehow he managed to slip the condom on before she slowly lowered herself onto his cock and he lost all reasonable thought.

She circled her legs around his hips and settled over him, wiggling into place.

“Don’t move!” He gripped her hips, unsure how long he’d last in her tight warmth. His boot heels dug into the gravel. In this position he was buried to the hilt, yet he couldn’t push up into her, couldn’t pump into her the way his body screamed for him to.

With a mischievous smile, she pressed her lips to his neck and trailed kisses up behind his ear, down his jaw and finally covered his mouth.

She made him frantic, mad for release. He lost control. He gripped her butt and raised and lowered her. Soon she caught the rhythm and braced her arms on his shoulders to rock her hips.

Indescribable pleasure washed over him, building stronger, faster, hitting him harder. He held on tight, and a strangled cry escaped as he shot deep into her core. Hits of ecstasy bombarded his groin and spread up his entire body.

Her fingers clenched on his scalp and scraped down his back as he tried to regain his breath. Echoes of the thrill still tingled and stung. He looked up and found Venus on the western horizon and Mars hanging just above the crescent moon. He picked out the Pleiades, Canis Captain and Orion. Anything to take his mind off the fact that he was squeezing Jordan to him as if his life depended on her and his eyes had come damn close to watering until he’d blinked a couple times.

Anything to forget that he didn’t want to let go.

4

THREE HOURS later Cole pulled his Harley into a parking space next to McCabe’s Jeep at Red Rocks National Conservation Area. The sun was inching its way over the canyons to the east, and Cole sat staring at the orange and purple streaks coloring the clouds.

He wished he was up there, above the stratosphere. He wished he’d never come to Vegas. After the hospital, he should have gone straight to Phoenix to visit his folks.

Why the hell did he feel as if he’d lost the bet instead of won it? He was supposed to relish the look on McCabe’s face when Cole told him he’d gotten lucky with the Keno girl.

But she wasn’t just a Keno girl. She was a woman. A woman who’d been upset enough to ride off with him on his bike and do something she’d told him only a few hours earlier that she couldn’t do. And he hadn’t even found out why. He’d just taken what she offered.

McCabe climbed out of his Jeep, sipping steaming coffee from a cup. “Why aren’t you dressed? You can’t wear—Wait a minute. Isn’t that the same shirt you had on last night?”

Cole glanced at his shirt. “So it is.” Swinging a leg off the bike, he ignored McCabe’s searching gaze, reached into the back of the Jeep and pulled out harnesses and ropes.

“You been out all night? Tell me you didn’t…”

Cole suppressed a smug grin. “All right. I didn’t.” He grabbed the backpack full of their climbing shoes and gloves from the Jeep and nodded to Grady, who’d just pulled up in his truck.

“Well, I’ll be. Grady, he did it! He nailed Ms. Crash-and-Burn.”

“Don’t call her that.”

McCabe grinned. “Guess we can’t anymore. From now on, we’ll have to call her Ms. For-a-Good-Ti—”

Cole jerked him up by his T-shirt. “Shut up.”

McCabe stared at him with a puzzled expression. “Okay, Jackson. One good screw and she’s got you pussy-whipped? Didn’t you learn anything from my mistake?”

“Just because you married a whore—”

McCabe broke Cole’s hold and slammed a fist into his jaw.

Cole stumbled back against his bike and pushed off again, fist swinging.

Grady stepped between them, caught Cole’s knuckles in his palm, and shoved the two buddies apart. “You want to fight, take it somewhere else.” He looked pointedly at the family scrambling out of a minivan with backpacks and hiking boots. “I’ll be on the western cliff.” He picked up his harness and rope and strode away.

Cole let his breathing slow, rubbing a hand over his stinging jaw.

“I got an extra pair of shorts in the Jeep,” McCabe mumbled.

Cole nodded. “Thanks.”

Turning to pull another backpack from the vehicle, McCabe shook his head. “What can I say? I’m an ass.” He grinned. “I was just pissed you made it with a woman who turned me down flat.”

A slow grin spread across Cole’s face as he unbuttoned his dress shirt. “No. You’re pissed because now you have to be a monk for the next thirty days.”

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