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waited for her to
order her coffee, tamping down his impatience. She felt the pull too, right? He
wanted to make her soften, even if only a little. Just enough that he knew she
wasn’t indifferent to him, that there was at least a chance for him to break
through that defensive barrier she’d put up. Something about her pride and
carefully masked vulnerability brought out all his possessive instincts and made
him want to stake his claim.
    As she moved toward them with her coffee, he expected her to
pass by without a word, but she surprised him by pausing. “Hi again.” Her tone
didn’t invite friendly conversation, though she spared another smile for Cam.
Lucky bastard. She was stunning when she smiled. Her honey blond hair was pulled
back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, like always. He wanted to undo
it, pull the bun apart just to find out how long it was, run his fingers through
its softness. In his fantasies it came past her shoulders, falling over her
breasts in curling waves as she rode him with her head tipped back, lips parted
on a breathless moan.
    “I like your shirt,” he said. Beneath her partially zipped
black hoodie, the tight gray T-shirt fit snugly across her amazingly full
breasts—reason enough for the compliment—and the picture on it made him grin. It
showed a C-130U Spooky II firing its 105 mm Howitzer with the words You can run , but you’ll only die tired . True enough, he thought with a surge of
admiration. That aircraft was damned amazing, and so was she, except for the
too-uptight thing.
    Man, he’d give anything for a chance to unravel her. A
smoldering sensuality lay beneath that cool exterior. Many times over the past
few weeks he’d imagined her beneath him, those dark eyes glazed with pleasure as
he surged in and out of her. The mutual attraction was there. He just hadn’t
found a way to capitalize on it yet.
    “Thank you.” She sipped at her coffee and took a nibble of what
looked like a bran muffin. Probably because she hadn’t eaten very much before
he’d joined her earlier in the chow hall. Casting a quick, uncertain look at
him, she focused on Cam instead and offered a soft smile. “How’s Dev? I haven’t
talked to her in over a week.”
    Cam gestured for Ryan to go ahead in line before he stepped
aside to answer. “Great, thanks.”
    Ryan reluctantly moved up with Jackson to order coffee for him
and Cam, listening with half an ear while Cam outlined Dev’s progress with rehab
and how long it would be before Cam got back stateside to see her.
    “What about you?” Cam finished. “How long you have left for
this deployment?”
    “Sixteen weeks.” She chuckled. “Not that I’m counting or
anything. You guys been out a lot lately?”
    “Always.”
    Ryan watched her covertly. The shadows under her eyes seemed
even darker today. And maybe she was a bit pale, too. Gunship crews were
generally out all night on patrol and slept during the day, routinely working
twelve- to sixteen-hour shifts. Not only was she not sleeping now, she was
getting coffee, and he’d lay money on it not being decaf. Why was that? She was
the most conscientious pilot he’d ever met. And given her discipline, it didn’t
make sense that she wouldn’t at least be trying to get a solid day’s sleep.
    When he got back to base after operations he usually crashed
the whole next day. Granted, he was often out in the field for days at a time,
but still. He didn’t like the thought of her being tired. Fatigue could dull a
person’s reflexes and decision-making ability. Not a good thing for a
front-seater, especially when they were deep in enemy territory and under threat
of taking hostile fire.
    Moving closer, he eyed her steaming cup, waiting for a break in
the conversation. “Is that decaf?”
    “No.” This time her tone held the edge of a bite, so he let it
go.
    She went back to her conversation with Cam, effectively
dismissing him. She knew he was watching though. Every so often her