An Officer and a Gentleman Page 9

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Andrea,” he said silkily, “say it. In so many words.”

  She glared at him, then gritted out the words. “I give you my word to go home when I get tired and not take my radio with me.”

  “Thank you.” One corner of his mouth lifted, and the fan of laugh lines by his eyes deepened. Rising, he went to pour himself some coffee. “Can I pour you some?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He set a cup in front of her, then returned to his chair. “Now to the part that you’re really interested in.”

  Stifling another sneeze, Andrea looked up quickly at him. “Sir?”

  “The part about what we know and what we don’t know, and what I’ve done about it. You know the intruder got away. There was actually no evidence that he succeeded in crossing the perimeter, because none of the electronic alarms were triggered. At first we assumed that you scared him off before he achieved his purpose. It appears, however, that he either evaded the electronic systems somehow, or he wasn’t working alone, because something did happen.”

  Andrea was all ears now, aches and pains and sniffles forgotten. “What, sir?”

  “On Monday, one of my bombers returned to base with a six-foot diameter hole in the cockpit. The pilot figures he hit a goose.”

  Andrea nodded. It happened frequently in the kind of low-level flying B-52s did, when they practiced bomb runs, or practiced flying into enemy territory beneath the radar beams. A goose might not be terribly big, but it packed one hell of a wallop when it collided head-on with a plane traveling at five hundred miles per hour. “So?”

  “So, Andrea, I seem to remember the geese flew south quite a while ago.”

  So they had. She sat up straighter and winced when the wound in her shoulder pulled. “But…maybe there was a crazy goose, like that whale that got lost in Alaska.”

  “No goose feathers. No blood. I called in the OSI.”

  The Office of Special Investigations was the Air Force’s FBI. Nobody liked the OSI. Andrea liked least of all the thought of them tramping around in her domain. Anger flared in her green eyes. “Was that necessary, Colonel?”

  “I think so.” MacLendon rose, sighing, and began to pace. “I figured you’d be furious, but I’m afraid I can’t let that matter. If you’re honest, you’ll admit that they’re a hell of a lot better trained and better equipped to conduct an investigation of this sort than the Security Police Force. It’s no reflection on you, Andrea. None at all. It’s just the truth. You know damn well that if something like this happened to a civilian plane, federal investigators would be called in simply because they’ve got the expertise and equipment local authorities lack. We’re in the same boat here, and I expect your full cooperation.”

  Andrea eyed him grimly. “Yes, sir.”

  Dare came to a halt and looked across the desk at her with a faint, humorless smile. “And they’re here undercover. Only you and I know about it, and only you and I and a couple of aircraft mechanics know it wasn’t a goose that goosed that plane.”

  Andrea tried to smile at his attempted humor but failed miserably.

  “Aw, Andrea,” he said, his voice dropping. That valiant attempt at a smile was his undoing. He had just enough sense left to ensure that the door was tightly closed before he came around the desk to her side.

  The next thing she knew, he’d caught her by the waist, lifted her from her chair, and gently tucked her right side against him. His left arm wrapped snugly around her back, and his right hand caught her chin, lifting it. He looked down into her startled green eyes.

  “I swore,” he said softly, “that I wasn’t going to do this again. Tell me not to, Andrea.”

  But she didn’t say a word. Instead she stared steadily up at him, and once again he saw the hazy mists swirl in her green eyes, drawing him down, closer and closer, until his mouth nestled against hers.

  “Sweet Andrea,” he muttered against her lips. “God, you haunt me.”

  She needed no coaxing this time. Her lips parted at once to his questing tongue, and he was drawn into a whirlwind of passion as smoky as her eyes. We’re both too lonely, he thought, and then he stopped thinking.

  Her mouth was warm, tasting of coffee, her tongue as eager as his. Right within the circle of his arms, as if by a wizard’s magic, she was transformed from a cool, collected officer into a wild and wonderful woman, hungry, wanting, needing, and his hunger grew apace with hers.

  He lifted his head briefly, drinking in her eyes, her swollen lips. He smiled, and she smiled back.

  “Andrea,” he murmured. “Delightful, wonderful Andrea.” And then his lips sought hers again, wanting more and more.

  “I wish I could hug you back,” she sighed against his mouth, her right arm trying to find its way around his waist. She wanted, needed, to hold him, to press closer. He shifted so that her arm could slip around behind him, and groaned softly as he felt its pressure close around his waist. It had been so long since a woman had held him. So long.

  His hand left her cheek, beginning a careful, gentle journey downward, wary of her injuries. The thick bandage and strapping guided him until, at last, he cradled her breast in his palm. Through her sweatshirt he felt the nipple harden instantly. She arched into the touch, her moan swallowed by his mouth.

  “Andrea,” he murmured, stroking lightly over her nipple, back and forth with his fingers. “You feel so nice, so soft.” He dropped kisses on her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her freckled nose.

  Andrea couldn’t believe this was happening, hoped it would never end. He smelled so good, tasted so good, and his hand was wreaking havoc with her, sending shafts of pure delight racing to her core until she thought she would die if she didn’t feel his weight on her, pressing against her, covering her. Never had she dreamed this was possible. Never. “Dare,” she whispered, her mouth seeking his, hungry to taste him again. “Dare, please.”

  “Please what?” He lifted his head and smiled at her, his blue eyes warm now, so warm that they seemed to cover her with heat. “I want you, Andrea. I want you desperately.” A shuddering sigh escaped him, and he bowed his head lower, his scratchy cheek coming to rest against hers. Reluctantly he moved his hand from her breast, bringing it to rest gently on her waist.

  “It’s the wrong time and place,” he said, and the regret was so sharp in his voice that she knew he felt it as deeply as she did.

  A breath almost like a sob escaped her. “Yes, sir, it is,” she said presently. “The wrong time and place.”

  She straightened. His arms slipped from her. Blue eyes glittered down into sad green ones.

  “Someday, Andrea,” he said. It was a promise.

  Turning, he headed for the door. With his hand on the knob, he paused and looked back.

  “You look like death warmed over, Burke,” he said frankly. “Get your butt home before noon.”

  “Yes, sir!” There was enough irritation in her voice to make him grin as he walked out.

  Chapter 6

  Andrea awoke in the morning furious with Dare from the instant she opened her eyes. He had held her, kissed her and touched her, and aroused feelings she had never dreamed existed even in her wildest imaginings. He had created longings and desires where none had existed before. Sleeping Beauty was awake, unfulfilled and mad as the devil.

  MacLendon, four blocks away, drank coffee and tried to read the morning paper. He was mad as the devil, too—at himself. He’d felt Sleeping Beauty wake in his arms and had a pretty good idea just where he’d left her standing. If he had seduced a virgin he couldn’t have been any angrier with himself.

  But he felt a kind of wonder and awe, too. Not even his young wife of five miserable years so long ago had ever blossomed under his touch as Andrea had. He couldn’t help feeling a little as if he had been touched by magic.

  Giving up on the paper, he carried his coffee into the living room and stared out the window at the bleak North Dakota winter morning. What had he done? What was he go
ing to do about it? He’d acted like a damn—

  —cowboy, Andrea thought as she walked into Dare MacLendon’s office Monday morning. A damn cowboy. Her shoulder ached miserably, perfectly in tune with her mood. She still felt as if most of her energy had slipped down a black hole somewhere. Anger sustained her and drove her in to work, determined to show that damn cowboy just what he deserved for toying with her like that. She was going to—

  —freeze him, Dare realized when his gaze met hers across the conference table that morning. The little minx gave him a look glacial enough to cause frostbite. While the other officers wandered into the room and poured themselves coffee, he met her stare for stare and allowed himself to imagine her lying naked and trembling on his bed, reaching out for him—

  —touching his chest, Andrea thought, stroking her hands downward to grasp his buttocks and pull him—

  —into her, Dare imagined, deeper and deeper.

  Suddenly they both blinked, and reality returned with a crash. Major Francis was pulling out his chair at the far end of the table, the last one to arrive. Dare glanced around, taking attendance mentally. No one missing.

  “Good morning, people.” Since arriving here, he’d given up on the word gentlemen. It always left that awkwardness of what to do about the one lady. Gentlemen and ma’am? Lady and gentlemen? Gentlepersons? Screw it.

  “First item on the agenda,” he continued, drawing his pad closer and scanning it. “General Hamilton is coming next Tuesday on a routine visit. He heard about last week’s events and specially requested to meet Captain Burke. We’ll have a formal luncheon at the Officers’ Club, and I need a volunteer to supervise arrangements.”

  As Dare’s gaze swept around the table, he caught an absolutely adorable look of confusion on Andrea’s face. Their earlier eyeball-to-eyeball session had evidently driven all her resolutions from her head. It tickled Dare to realize he could fluster his cool Captain Burke so easily, and he began to think it might be a lot of fun to have Andrea angry with him.

  “I’ll handle the arrangements, sir,” Captain Bradley said after a perceptible hesitation. “I’ve done it before, and I know the ropes.”

  “I hate this kind of stuff,” Andrea said. “It’s one of the two things that make me wonder why I ever joined the Air Force.”

  Dare’s lip twitched. Zinged again, he thought. From the gleam in her eye, he gathered he was the other thing. Mercifully, no one asked her what the second thing was.

  “Well,” he said pleasantly, “you were wounded. You can always claim weakness, Andrea.”

  Now she was glaring again, not obviously, just enough for Dare to pick up on it. “I’m not a chicken, sir,” she said icily, accenting the I.

  And I am? Dare wondered. The corner of his mouth twitched again, still with amusement. People were going to start thinking he had a tic if Andrea kept this up.

  “Item two,” he continued. “It’s almost January, people. Time to make our pledges to the United Way. Pledge forms will be distributed this afternoon to all units. I respectfully request that we attempt to surpass this year’s average. Now folks, most of us can squeeze out a little more. Talk to your people, and get the forms back in no later than fifteen December.”

  He glanced around, saw the bored nods. “The pledge thermometer will be put out in front of our building again this year. I will see it every morning.”

  Chuckles ran around the table.

  “Next item. Toys for Tots is still looking for toys. The drop box is by the base exchange. Remind your people. The Aid Society says we have several enlisted families that aren’t going to make Christmas dinner without some help. Information will be posted on the bulletin board.”

  He looked up. “Now, I want all staff requests for Christmas leave in my office by the tenth. We’ll follow last year’s general holiday schedule through January third, unless we run into some kind of problem. The Wing Christmas party is scheduled for the NCO club on December twentieth. Lieutenant Tubbs is handling it. Lieutenant?”

  Tubbs stood up and began to talk about tickets and menus and bands, and Dare allowed himself to tune out for a while. His own holiday schedule was so packed with invitations that he figured he’d be running in a continuous state of semi-hangover from the tenth through New Year’s. What would Andrea be doing?

  Andrea was thinking grumpily that maybe this year she would go visit one of her brothers rather than spend her holiday season sitting in the BOQ, attending an occasional party thrown by people she hardly knew, and sitting in the Officers’ Club in the evenings, drinking with the other bachelors. She wouldn’t, though. She always felt that as a bachelor it was only fair to stay on duty through the holidays so the married guys could be with their families.

  Just as the meeting was breaking up, it occurred to Andrea that she wasn’t usually this grumpy and gloomy, and that it couldn’t all be her wound. MacLendon, she thought irritably. It’s that damned cowboy’s fault.

  Ready to growl at the first person who glanced her way, she stalked back to the Security Police building and pulled out the troop schedule. It was all very well to say they would follow last year’s schedule, but that provided only a general outline. A lot of her staff had changed during the year, and their marital status had to be taken into account. She’d have to prepare a blank schedule and then send it out to her various units to fill in the blanks. It was the last thing she felt like doing.

  “Let me handle it, skipper,” Nickerson said when she mentioned it to him. “Me and Lieutenant Dolan. In fact, I think it’s a perfect job for the Lieutenant. He might as well learn that this job isn’t all glamor. And didn’t you promise Colonel MacLendon you’d go home when you got tired?”

  Andrea glared at him. “Did he tell you that?”

  “As a matter of fact, he did, and you’re looking pretty peaked to me.” Nickerson gave her his most inscrutable expression.

  “Don’t coddle me, Nick.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am. I’d as soon coddle a two-headed rattler. I’m going over to the chow hall to pick up something hot for lunch. Anything sound good to you?”

  Andrea forced herself to consider the question. “Soup sounds good. And maybe a sandwich or two.”

  Nick nodded. He was accustomed to Andrea’s appetite. “How about dessert?”

  She shrugged. “If you see anything that looks decent.”

  “Okay. Back in a jiff.”

  He was coddling her, and she knew it, but much as it annoyed her, it touched her, too.

  Her shoulder throbbed steadily, and her stitches itched maddeningly, but the wound was still too tender to scratch satisfactorily. The worst part of being shot, she decided, was being unable to get comfortable no matter what she did. That and the troubling dreams that plagued her. Getting shot at made a person aware she wasn’t immortal.

  And Dare MacLendon, damn his blue eyes, had made her just as aware that there was more to life than a career. Never had she dreamed that it could feel so good to be held, or that it could be so wonderful to lean against someone else’s strength. Not only had he awakened desires she didn’t want, he’d awakened a need to be held. For those few brief moments he’d made her feel safe, secure and cherished.

  She hated to admit it, but more than anything in the world she wanted to dive into those strong arms and let them shelter and protect her. Foolishness, she told herself irritably. It had no place in her life or plans. She’d be damned if she’d let a man interfere with her future. No, henceforward she wouldn’t let Alisdair MacLendon within arm’s reach.

  Her mind made up, she forced herself to sit forward and reach for the paperwork on her desk. Andrea Burke had more important things to do with her time than moon over a man.

  For the next ten days she was quite successful in keeping her resolution, nor did Dare test her resolve. She told herself she was glad he appeared as eager to avoid her as she was to avoid him, but in a small corner of her mind there was a sad, nagging ache of disappointment.

 
; And then, just a week before Christmas, she answered her telephone to hear a familiar voice.

  “Good afternoon, Burke,” said Colonel Alisdair MacLendon.

  Andrea told herself that her heart was not doing a silly little tap dance at the sound of that voice. No, it was just a muscle twitching, a delayed effect of the wound in her left shoulder.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” she managed to reply coolly.

  “I need a favor, Burke,” he said. “I want you to take me out tonight or tomorrow and show me how security is handled at the missile sites.”

  It was the last thing on earth she felt like doing. Did he lie awake nights thinking up ways to annoy people? “Why?” she demanded bluntly, and never mind protocol. “Why this sudden interest?”

  “Because I’m responsible for those sites just as I’m responsible for everything on this base. It behooves me to know how it’s handled.” His tone lay somewhere between sarcasm and exaggerated patience. “Well?”

  Well, if she couldn’t get out of it, she didn’t want to postpone it. In fact, the thought of spending some time alone with him caused her traitorous heart to leap and her blood to rush. “This evening,” she said when she felt she could trust her voice. Weak, Burke, she scolded herself. You’re really weak. “Say seven?”

  “Good. Pick me up at my house. I’ll be looking for you.” He disconnected with a click.

  Leaning back in her chair, she eased her arm from the sling and began the limbering exercises the doctor had given her. What the devil was going on? She winced as her healing muscles pulled. Well, if he really wanted to go all the way out to Romeo, the nearest missile site, he could damn well do the driving.

  Dare was watching for her, and as soon as the blue truck pulled up in front of his house, he trotted down the walk and came around to the driver’s side.

  “I’ll drive,” he said. “Scoot over.”

  Andrea was glad to. It had been a long day—too long, really—and her shoulder was aching just about as bad as it ever had.