“Not for me.” When he tugged her elbow to turn her, the slide of his hand on her sweat-slick forearm called up memories of moving against his body. This close she could see beads of sweat on his face and neck as he searched her face. “I don’t think it’s over for you either.”
“It is. I have too much invested in the army to risk it.” She stepped back and dropped her hands to her knees, bending to conceal her face in case she couldn’t erase all her desire from her expression. “I’m an officer. I’m not allowed to—”
“You care about those rules?”
“We wouldn’t have met if I didn’t care about the rules!” She locked her eyes on the dirt and concentrated on two things: breathing and remembering the rest of her speech.
“Forget about fraternization. No one enforces that.”
“Maybe not against you, Indispensable Special Forces Hotshot.” That this man, who seemed to get every freaking army thing effortlessly right, would counsel her to forget about the rules—it started a fire in her stomach that pulled her up until she stood toe-to-toe with him. “Fact of life, officer or enlisted, it’s the female whose career gets most screwed. But it won’t be me.” Her finger stopped an inch from his chest. “Do you hear? It won’t be me.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” His chin stuck out as if daring her. “We might have something rare, something that doesn’t happen to everyone, but I hear that you’ll sacrifice our chance because of a rule.”
“It’s not about following rules.” How could a man whose life revolved around honor not understand? “I owe the army my best. I won’t give less. In seven months I’m finished, out, and I’m not willing to blow my good service for some crazy sex. Can’t you see?”
“In seven months, when I fit your plans, how about dinner?” His flared nostrils and narrowed eyes challenged her to disagree.
How she wanted to say yes, to make a date and carry it in her pocket like a lucky charm, or even make reservations. Crap, if she was honest she’d admit that rehearsals of this kiss-off speech had competed with dreams about caterers and florists. But rather than admit her silly fantasies, she crossed her arms and shook her head.
“Then this isn’t about fraternization, is it?” The fight left his voice.
“Not really, I guess.” She saw her own anguish reflected in his eyes.
“Whatever you want—” he spoke so quietly she strained to hear, “—I’ll do it. I’ll get it. I’ll—”
“I want a regular life.” Asking for the one thing he couldn’t give her started a major bleed in the cavity around her heart. “Growing up, my family was different. We had a lot of secrets.” She didn’t want to share the details. “I dreamed of being regular.”
“I under—”
“Let me finish.” The best way to inflict pain was to do it quickly and be done. “Have you ever had a daydream or read a book, and you know that’s how it’s supposed to be?”
“Yes. Tell me, and I promise...” His hand hovered over her arm.
If he touched her, she might not be able to continue, so she hunched her shoulder. “I want to walk a dog in Central Park. Run around the reservoir.” While pushing a jogging stroller, but she wouldn’t twist that knife after what he’d told her in Rome. “Live in a brownstone on the Upper East Side. One with black iron railings.” She closed her eyes to dispel Afghanistan’s jagged mountains and brown dust. “Go to a nice office four days a week. No plywood, no pistol holsters. I want to buy lunch from a street cart.” She could almost smell the hot dogs and the city. “I want to be normal.”
“That’s an illusion.”
“It isn’t.” She opened her eyes to see the flat line of his frown. “People really live like that. I met them at Princeton.” With their run long over, her cooling sweat left her chilled, so she wrapped her arms around her chest.
“They have problems like everyone else. My brother lives in one of those brownstones.”
“Look, I don’t need a shrink to tell me what I’m seeking is the opposite of my own childhood. Is that so wrong?” Swallowing to hold in her jumbled emotions, she had to look away to deliver her final statement. “I’m sorry, Wulf, but you’re not—” to say he wasn’t normal sounded so awful she choked. “You’re more of what I don’t want.” Her words sounded both cruel and completely false to her own ears, but she couldn’t unsay them.
“That’s not what you told me before.” Anger hardened his voice until each word hammered at her. “I distinctly recall you screaming for more. Several times.”
“This is not, I repeat, not about sex.” She glared back. “You’re the most fascinating man I’ve ever known and yeah, I’ve never had and probably never will have such amazing sex again, but that doesn’t mean I’ll change my goals.”
“No shit. You won’t let anything change you. You have a rule book and everybody has to follow Theresa’s rules.” He intruded so far into her space that she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her palms against the hangar wall. His breath warmed her cheek. Three days apart wasn’t enough time for her body to forget his.
He didn’t back off. His heat and scent stayed next to her like a dog on a bed. The first person who trotted around the corner would notice them and realize immediately what he wanted. Everything she’d worked for would be ruined if one of them didn’t retreat, but her hopelessly weak legs wouldn’t budge an inch sideways to escape.
“Hope your plan works out, Captain Chiesa.” His voice vibrated on her name. “Hope you and your memories have fun screwing some normal man.” Then he was gone.
Of course she was glad he’d left, and doubly glad he didn’t turn and see her trembling and staring after him. Because if her Viking had lingered one instant longer, she might have melted into his arms. So much for her rules.
Early for the VIP escort mission, Theresa dropped her ruck and rotated her shoulders inside her protective gear. A senator wanted to visit concrete-and-rebar evidence of America’s investment in Afghanistan, so she’d been tasked to guide a tour of the new provincial hospital. She also planned to distribute the medical texts and supplies from her backpack, which might help her to connect with a local doctor and lay groundwork for a program to help girls like Nazdana.
Even doctors knew that a convoy should be led by a reinforced or armored vehicle and, at a minimum, have a roof-mounted fifty-cal providing security. The assembled string of white SUVs seemed more like it should belong to a half-baked relief organization than to the United States Army. She searched the gravel lot for the rest of the vehicles.
“Hey! Glad I’m not alone.” A dark-haired woman wearing mirrored sunglasses and camera bags trotted over while vigorously chomping gum. “Laura Rizzotti. Reuters. You one of our minders on this dog and pony show?”
Theresa automatically introduced herself. Surely the reporter’s name, the same as Wulf’s Italian butler’s, was a coincidence. “I’m a doctor. I’ll be giving the hospital tour.”
The photojournalist’s jaw shifted from left to right and back while she chewed, as if she too searched the parking lot.
“Who or what are you looking for?”
“Got me.” A dimple showed in Laura’s cheek. “I’m hoping for candid photos of our esteemed VIP.”
“The senator?”
“None other. He threatened to replace Black and Swan’s cash spigot with a competitive-bid contract.” She raised her first two fingers and thumb to her mouth and seemed almost startled to find them empty. “Mr. Chairman investigating corruption in person is a money shot.” Her jaw never stopped ferociously chewing.