pleading look.
“Don’t you realize my career could be ruined if you don’t let me out of here?”
Brad almost missed the question. She kept squeezing his arm, making him imagine for a moment those same slender fingers caressing his back. Then clutching his shoulders. Her nails finally digging in, signaling he was close to pushing her up and over the next wave of passion.
“And what about my poor parents?” she worried, sending another anguished look in his direction. “While one daughter is trying for an obvious Emmy nomination, my poor parents will be worrying that daughter number two is being dissected by little green men from outer space!”
When she finally let go of his arm, some of the blood that had been directed elsewhere slowly returned to his brain, allowing him to respond. “You’re right,” Brad agreed. “This is a very unfortunate situation to be in, but…”
“Unfortunate?” she wailed, jumping up from the loveseat again. “It’s much worse than unfortunate! If you don’t let me out of here, I’m going to be a worldwide laughing stock! Everything I’ve worked for my entire life could go right down the drain.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but…”
“Then if you won’t let me leave, at least let me call Mary Beth at the hotel and get this whole thing straightened out!”
Again, Brad shook his head. “I’m sorry. I really am. But it’s totally out of my hands now.”
Her voice grew even more pleading. “Then let me see Commander Gibbons. Please. Give me the chance to tell him my side of the story.”
Brad squirmed at that particular request. He could tell she was finally beginning to see the big picture for what it actually was.
“Wait a minute,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing. “I’m never going to see Commander Gibbons, am I?”
Brad didn’t answer.
“No. Of course, I’m not going to see him,” she said, slapping her forehead with the heel of her hand. “This is going to be ‘I never had sex with that woman’ all over again, isn’t it? If your commander never sees me, then he can technically deny knowing I was ever brought to this base.”
Brad knew his guilty look said it all.
“But what if I don’t cooperate?” she threatened. “What if I don’t keep this helicopter of yours a secret when you do let me go?”
“It won’t matter then,” Brad said simply. “It will be your word against the United States Air Force. And the more you force the issue, the less credible you’ll become. Especially since your sister has already gone overboard with her alien abduction story.”
If looks could kill, Brad knew the Air Force would have been making arrangements for his full military funeral.
“So, you’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?” she huffed. “You’ll discredit me and ruin my reputation even further if I expose your top secret helicopter. And you’ll claim my sister is just some weirdo with a screw loose.”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it like that.”
Brad was on his feet now. She was getting all riled up again and he needed to keep her as calm as possible. He tried to take her hand so he could coax her back to the love seat, but she quickly smacked his hand away.
“And stop trying to pull your ridiculous henhouse magic on me. It won’t work.”
Wanna bet? Brad thought, and to test her, he took another step in her direction. He smiled inwardly when her eyes suddenly grew wide with concern.
Yes, his military training had taught him well. He had always been good at finding his adversary’s weak point, though he found it rather funny that a woman with a degree in entomology turned into Little Miss Muffet when he got too close, acting as if he were some spider trying to frighten her away. Her obvious concern about his intentions, however, would be his trump card in keeping her under control. He would keep her flustered. Off balance. Keep her mind off everything else by making her deal with him one-on-one. Making her do the one thing Dr. Madeline Morgan obviously didn’t have an impressive degree in: interacting with the opposite sex.
“I’m always open to suggestions,” Brad teased, reaching out to run his finger along the curve of her chin. “Why don’t you tell me what will work to put you in a friendlier mood?”
“Your head on a silver platter, maybe?” she said and slapped his hand away again.
Brad only grinned. “Sorry, but you’re stuck with me. And if you’d lighten up a little, you’d realize we could have a pretty amazing time playing house together over the next three days.”
PLAYING HOUSE TOGETHER? While my entire life is going down the toilet? Maddie was so shocked by such an absurd suggestion words completely failed her. Unfortunately her wanna-be playmate took her silence as an invitation to step forward again.
And that’s when Maddie knew she really was in trouble.
He was standing so close she was sure he could hear her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She tried to move away, and she would have, had he not surprised her by reaching out to gently push a wayward strand of hair away from her face.
“So? How about it?” he asked, his voice husky and dangerous. “Wanna call a truce and play house?”
Maddie stiffened when one of his powerful arms slipped around her waist. He pulled her to him, forcing her to acknowledge every inch of his rock-hard body that was pressed against her own. A little afraid, but deliciously excited, for some reason pushing him away never entered Maddie’s mind.
And from that moment on, she was helpless.
She was powerless.
She was nothing but another willing chicken, after all, surrendering shamelessly to the ruthless hawk who now had her in his more than capable clutches.
Closing her eyes in breathless anticipation, Maddie waited for the kiss of a lifetime. His warm breath inched closer, teasing her, tempting her, and then finally cheating her when a loud knock on the door produced not a kiss, but a curse from his lips.
“Let go of me,” Maddie demanded when her eyes snapped back open. She did try to push him away this time, but Hawk held her against him long enough to whisper, “Make yourself at home, Sweet Maddie. This is just a sample of the fun we can have together over the next three days.”
BRAD WALKED OUT INTO THE hallway and closed the door behind him. He turned to face his copilot and found Baker holding a tray loaded down with enough food to feed half the men who were staying on the base.
“Anyone question you about the food?”
Baker, who was six-four and tipped the scales somewhere around two-fifty, looked down at the tray and laughed. “Are you kidding? Everybody knows I can eat this much food for a snack.”
“Good.” Brad ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “Because we’re going to have an extra mouth to feed until we can demob and get the Black Ghost out of here.”
Baker sent
