“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
