exhaust shot up into the air through the funnels atop the communications platform.
Michael had led her halfway along the platform, past a half-dozen rooms she knew all too well from when this ship had been servicing the Marines.
For most of her history, the Peleliu had transported seventeen hundred Marine grunts and could launch enough SuperCobra helicopters and Harrier Jump Jets from the flight deck, and amphibious water craft from her sea-level well deck to get all of those troops on the move fast.
Claudia had spent countless hours attempting to read a book in the squad ready room while on âalert holdâ status.
Theyâd passed the âpee roomâ where every pilot had to pee in a cup before every flight to prove they were âMarine clean.â
Now, beneath the setting sun, the old ship felt new and fresh. No longer a jarhead pilot among thousands, Claudia was a SOAR pilot. A Night Stalker. One of the best helicopter pilots on the planet. And in the 5D besides.
And the man beside her was probably the most senior D-boy in the field, making him pretty much the best warrior on the planet. She could sense his quiet center as surely as she could smell the oncoming darkness.
There was a tiny release inside her, as quiet as a skittering stone slipping down a sandy hillside. It was a part of her âsafeâ memory from last nightâs sleep-blinded embrace.
What more was there in Michaelâs arms other than âsafeâ?
She was just dumb enough and brain hazed enough to ask the question.
Claudia had never been a big fan of unanswered questions.
She turned to face him, his quiet, assessing eyes not blinking for a moment.
A half step closerâ¦
* * *
Michael thought heâd be shocked. Was sure he would be. They had only met justâ¦
His mind blanked when Claudia brushed her lips over his.
His mind never blanked.
There wasnât heat. There wasnât fire.
Noâ¦
There wasnât only heat and fire.
Beyond those, there was a moment of impossible perfection as if this sensation, this soft intimate touch of only their lips was indeed the goal heâd been seeking since heâd climbed his first hundred-foot tree seeking the pinnacle that you could never quite reach.
He tasted her. Could almost imagine that he could taste her beloved wild desert, for heâd seen that connection in her as clearly as sheâd seen it in him.
Some timeless moment laterâ¦
He never lost track of time.
But he just had.
â¦Claudia shifted back that same half step.
She didnât try to fill the silence with words. No apologies. No false compliments. Nor true ones.
Her blue eyes studied him as intently as his studied her.
There werenât questions either.
There was a simple, stupefying rightness.
He turned and held the door for her to enter the passage to the number two ready room. A door heavy enough to block most of a Harrier jetâs noise on takeoff or landingâwhich was major.
A door that felt as if it was opening to many places at once.
* * *
Claudia crossed through the passageway into a room she didnât expect.
Instead of containing the heavy table with bolted-down benchesâon which she used to rest her butt until it was so sore it hurt to stand when the âsaddle upâ or the âstand downâ order was finally issuedâthis was a comfortable office. A small table, a couple of couches, even comfortable chairs. All bolted down in case of rough seas, but still very pleasant.
It was just wrong. Sheâd come home to⦠Just wrong.
Lieutenant Commander Boyd Ramis, whoâd been First Officer on the vessel when sheâd been here as a Marine pilot two years ago, was seated at the desk. Heâd made the room his office.
Claudia couldnât help herself. No matter what Trisha had said, she snapped to attention and saluted sharply.
The Lieutenant Commander rose and returned the salute without complaint or
Michael had led her halfway along the platform, past a half-dozen rooms she knew all too well from when this ship had been servicing the Marines.
For most of her history, the Peleliu had transported seventeen hundred Marine grunts and could launch enough SuperCobra helicopters and Harrier Jump Jets from the flight deck, and amphibious water craft from her sea-level well deck to get all of those troops on the move fast.
Claudia had spent countless hours attempting to read a book in the squad ready room while on âalert holdâ status.
Theyâd passed the âpee roomâ where every pilot had to pee in a cup before every flight to prove they were âMarine clean.â
Now, beneath the setting sun, the old ship felt new and fresh. No longer a jarhead pilot among thousands, Claudia was a SOAR pilot. A Night Stalker. One of the best helicopter pilots on the planet. And in the 5D besides.
And the man beside her was probably the most senior D-boy in the field, making him pretty much the best warrior on the planet. She could sense his quiet center as surely as she could smell the oncoming darkness.
There was a tiny release inside her, as quiet as a skittering stone slipping down a sandy hillside. It was a part of her âsafeâ memory from last nightâs sleep-blinded embrace.
What more was there in Michaelâs arms other than âsafeâ?
She was just dumb enough and brain hazed enough to ask the question.
Claudia had never been a big fan of unanswered questions.
She turned to face him, his quiet, assessing eyes not blinking for a moment.
A half step closerâ¦
* * *
Michael thought heâd be shocked. Was sure he would be. They had only met justâ¦
His mind blanked when Claudia brushed her lips over his.
His mind never blanked.
There wasnât heat. There wasnât fire.
Noâ¦
There wasnât only heat and fire.
Beyond those, there was a moment of impossible perfection as if this sensation, this soft intimate touch of only their lips was indeed the goal heâd been seeking since heâd climbed his first hundred-foot tree seeking the pinnacle that you could never quite reach.
He tasted her. Could almost imagine that he could taste her beloved wild desert, for heâd seen that connection in her as clearly as sheâd seen it in him.
Some timeless moment laterâ¦
He never lost track of time.
But he just had.
â¦Claudia shifted back that same half step.
She didnât try to fill the silence with words. No apologies. No false compliments. Nor true ones.
Her blue eyes studied him as intently as his studied her.
There werenât questions either.
There was a simple, stupefying rightness.
He turned and held the door for her to enter the passage to the number two ready room. A door heavy enough to block most of a Harrier jetâs noise on takeoff or landingâwhich was major.
A door that felt as if it was opening to many places at once.
* * *
Claudia crossed through the passageway into a room she didnât expect.
Instead of containing the heavy table with bolted-down benchesâon which she used to rest her butt until it was so sore it hurt to stand when the âsaddle upâ or the âstand downâ order was finally issuedâthis was a comfortable office. A small table, a couple of couches, even comfortable chairs. All bolted down in case of rough seas, but still very pleasant.
It was just wrong. Sheâd come home to⦠Just wrong.
Lieutenant Commander Boyd Ramis, whoâd been First Officer on the vessel when sheâd been here as a Marine pilot two years ago, was seated at the desk. Heâd made the room his office.
Claudia couldnât help herself. No matter what Trisha had said, she snapped to attention and saluted sharply.
The Lieutenant Commander rose and returned the salute without complaint or
Similar Books
It's Always Darkest Before the Fridge Door Opens: Enjoying the Fruits of Middle Age
Phil Callaway, Martha O. Bolton
