breath, finding some nerve in his anger. “Miss Drake is an old friend,” he
remarked to no one in Particular. “I think we have a lot to catch up on,
don’t we, Miss Drake? Care to join me in my cabin for a few minutes?”
“Thank you, Admiral. Yes, it has been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Tombstone opened the door to his quarters and held it for her to enter.
He glanced back into the Flag Mess. The four staff officers seated there
pointedly had other things to do, other places to look, than at their admiral.
Great. So much for my reputation. If she leaves in less than five
minutes, they’ll say she turned me down or I was after a quickie. And any
longer than five minutes will assuredly make the grapevine just as quickly.
Well, there was no avoiding it. Hadn’t been since the moment Pamela had
set foot on his flight deck. And he would be damned if he’d let himself think
about her in any way other than strictly professional.
Pamela was a senior correspondent for ACN. If she hadn’t wanted to come
on this assignment, she wouldn’t have. Wondering about whether or not she’d
known he was here, and whether or not there was any personal motive behind her
presence, wasn’t acceptable. It had to be cleared up here and now.
The last time they’d seen each other, they’d finally come to the
realization that there was no future to their relationship. That
understanding, along with Tombstone’s growing attraction to Tomboy, had seemed
to end it. Then what was Pamela doing here, he wondered. Just another
assignment? Or second thoughts?
He followed Pamela into his cabin and let the door click shut behind
them.
Pamela was already seated on the couch in the starboard side of his
cabin. Her coffee cup sat on the table in front of it.
“I can offer you a real coffee cup, if you prefer,” he said, for lack of
anything else to say. “Something without a lid and a football team logo on
it.”
“Thanks, Stoney, but this is fine. I went to a lot of trouble to
remember to bring it. Those paper ones the Flag Mess usually has–I always
spill something somewhere.”
He sat down in the comfortable chair that sat at right angles to the
couch. “It’s good to see you again,” he said, slightly surprised at himself.
He somehow expected that breaking their engagement would have miraculously
broken the compelling attraction that had always existed between them. It
hadn’t, though. He felt the familiar sense of urgency and expectancy, a taut,
demanding urge to bridge the gap between them. His fingers remembered silky
hair slipping through his hands and cascading over his chest, the delicate
texture of skin on skin, and the lush curve of her body from hips to chest.
“How’s the admiral business?” Her voice, casually friendly, contained no
hint that she was remembering him in the same way. He forced himself back to
reality, abandoning the memories almost regretfully.
“Busy. I haven’t flown in months. And ACN–you’re still their star,
from what we see out here,” he said, matching her conversational tone. Just
two old friends who’d once been something more, catching up on old times, he
decided. He decided to relax. He could do this–he could.
“I have my moments with them. It’s a full-time commitment still.” Her
eyes met his, and he felt her carefully assess his mood. Damn, he’d almost
forgotten how she always could seem to read his thoughts!
Despite his best intentions, he felt the first tinges of a flush creep up
from his neck toward his cheeks and heard a voice that sounded exactly like
his own ask, “That answers my question, then. I was wondering if there were
any other reason for you taking this assignment.”
Her answer came quickly, as though she’d rehearsed an answer. “Like
getting a chance to see you? That was part of it, I admit. I’ll never turn
down that opportunity.”
“You already did,” he said. He heard the anger and hurt in his voice and
swore silently. “I turned down marriage and commitment, not you. Oh, Stoney,
we’ve been through this a thousand times! It never would have worked! My