“How long have you been engaged?”
“Three years.”
His eyes widened, and he made a low snickering sound, shaking his head from side to side. “That figures, too.”
Helen hated the way Rafe made her feel, all jumpy and achy inside. He always had. And he probably knew it. She yanked her hand out of his.
He laughed huskily.
“We haven’t been able to coordinate our schedules,” she said defensively.
He snorted rudely with disbelief. “So, do you and the colonel salute each other before you hit the sack? Hey, I’ll bet you work hot sex around a schedule, don’t you?”
Hot sex?
He hooted gleefully, slapping one hand on his knee. “Oh, Prissy, you are so transparent. You haven’t the faintest idea what I mean by hot sex, do you?”
“Now I remember why I always hated you.” She made another note on her clipboard. “You know that I can make the next two weeks very miserable for you, don’t you?”
“I’m already miserable,” he pointed out, continuing as if she hadn’t even spoken. “I can just picture you and Colonel Sanders — ”
“It’s Colonel Peterson.”
He waved his hand dismissively and went on. “Your tight-assed military dude probably says, ‘Can I’ and ‘May I’ and ‘Please.’ Probably pats you on the rump afterward for a job well done. And then falls dead asleep before he can do you again.”
Do me? Helen bit her bottom lip to keep her jaw from dropping open. “There’s nothing wrong with politeness.”
“Hah!” Rafe chuckled softly as if suddenly enlightened. “I’ll bet you even take that damn clipboard to bed with you.”
She forced herself not to make another mark on the clipboard, knowing that was what he expected. “You’re as bad as that sergeant who was yelling those gross jody calls earlier.”
His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. “I’m not like that jerk, Prissy. He was being a vulgar, sexist slob. I like women and I love sex. That’s a natural part of life. And sometimes it’s even crude. So what? Why don’t you loosen up a little and live?”
Rafe’s all-too-accurate assessment of her life cut deeply, but Helen would never admit that. She should get up and walk away before her carefully regulated emotions were exposed for a sham. She should never have stayed to talk with him. She should forget the ways in which his words had wounded her more than a dozen years ago, and still did today. But she stayed, yearning for answers. “Why do you always criticize me, Rafe? For four years at Stonewall, you made my life a nightmare. You — ”
“I made your life a nightmare?” He cocked his head in surprise.
“Of course, you did. All that teasing — my old-fashioned values were out-of-date… the rules I followed were silly… I was Daddy’s girl… my appearance was prudish and drab. Did you enjoy putting me down? I never did anything to hurt you.”
“Helen, Helen, Helen. I thought you were smarter than that.” He made a clucking sound as if she were incredibly dense. “Talk about nightmares! Sweetheart, you made my heart skip a beat the first time I saw you at freshman registration. You were wearing a yellow sundress with tiny straps.” He drew two lines from his shoulders to his chest to demonstrate. “Your hair was pulled back on each side with gold barrettes. And your perfume smelled flowery, like…” His words trailed off as he realized how much he’d revealed with his words.
“You’re making this up. I know you are.”
“Hah! Know this, babe — you were the center of every wet dream I had for four long years at Stonewall. And there were a lot of them.”
“How dare you! See what I mean about your vulgarity? Military insubordination aside, men don’t say that to women they respect.”
“Maybe you’ve been running with the wrong men.” He put a hand on her arm to stop her from releasing her seat belt and getting up, as she intended. In a softer tone, he added, “I did make fun of you a lot, Prissy. But it was because I wanted you so damn much. I thought you knew that.”