Officer, Surgeon...Gentleman!

“Cole,” she purred, her eyes full of wicked delight.

“Yes. Cole.” Don’t play games with me, Amelia. Not tonight. Not ever. “Sorry I took so long,” he said for the benefit of the captain unhappily observing his interruption and looking imbibed enough to mistakenly think he could stake a claim despite Cole’s arrival. He shot the man a “she’s mine, back off” glare, then returned his attention to Amelia. “I got caught up talking to an old friend, but I’m here now.” He held out his hand to her. “Let’s dance.”

Amelia melted into Cole’s arms, laying her cheek against the soft material of his cotton-blend shirt. He wore some funky button-down with jeans. Seeing him in civilian clothes should make her think of when they’d been in school. Perhaps it did. But rather than remember, she was assailed with new thoughts.

For years she’d blamed him for what had happened, never considering that perhaps Cole hadn’t wanted the attraction between them any more than she had.

Perhaps he still didn’t.

Maybe he was as trapped by the chemistry between them as she was. Not wanting the attraction, but unable to resist it. That she understood all too well. Hadn’t she barely slept the past several nights, guilty with the knowledge she’d soon be at port call, would soon embrace her feelings for Cole?

Her arms draped loosely around his neck, toying at his nape. He’d had his hair cut at some point during the day, but the sun-streaked locks were just as soft as she remembered.

He smelled so good. Spice and soap and musky male. The scent of him intoxicated her more than the cocktails she’d been drinking in the hope of drowning out her guilt.

Sure, Clara’s e-mails said she didn’t want Amelia to hold the past against Cole, that Cole was a good man, that they’d just not been meant to be. Her sister was trying to make things easier, trying to lessen Amelia’s burden. If only her sister knew.

Yet like a silly moth flitting into a light, she couldn’t stop the events from unfolding, couldn’t even try. Every instinct she had drew her to Cole, closer and closer until she’d burn.

His hands pressed against the bare skin of her back, his body swaying with hers to the music. “I like your dress.”

“Thank you.” She’d bought the multicolored dress earlier that day and liked the way the material clung to her body, almost making her appear to have curves. Had she worn the dress because the style made her feel feminine? Less of a soldier and more of a woman?

“I like what’s in it better,” he breathed close to her ear.

Puh-leeze. She may have been drinking, but she hadn’t completely lost her senses. Not yet.

“Don’t use cheesy lines on me.”

“Why? Won’t they work? Looked like the lines I interrupted were working quite effectively.” The way his jaw worked when he said it belied the easy tone of his words.

“What’s wrong, Cole? Jealous?”

“Of another man holding you?” he asked, tensing against her, his hands holding her a bit tighter, his jaw practically clenched. “Hell, yes.”

“You don’t own me, Cole. I can dance with whomever I please, whenever I please.”

Some ground rules needed to be established. Like that no matter what happened between them, she was her own woman. She’d do as she pleased, when she pleased, and with whom she pleased. If he didn’t like that, he could get over himself.

“I know,” he agreed, looking smug and like he saw right through her, like he knew just why she protested and found it cute. Cute! “Which is why you’re dancing with me, Amelia. You please me very much.”

He’d twisted her words, which should infuriate her. Instead, warmth spread, settling low in her belly. “I do?”

“Don’t play games,” he warned in a low growl that sent shivers across her skin. “We’re beyond games. You know you please me, that you’re all I think about, kissing you, touching you, tasting you. I want you so much I ache.”

The warmth erupted into all-out explosive heat at the intensity with which he spoke.

He was right. No more game playing.

Biting her lower lip, giving herself up to the inevitable, she met his gaze. “I ache, too.”

“I know.” He sighed, his palms flattening against her back, holding her against him. “I know you do. It’s just the way things are between us. A constant, undeniable ache neither of us can fight.”

“I’m tired of fighting, Cole. So tired.” She rubbed her cheek against the strong wall of his chest, realizing that she was tired. Tired of having to be strong, tired of fighting what she was feeling, tired of the guilt, the frustration, the anger, the pain, the desire of wanting him, the wondering why he’d asked her to wait then left. She was tired of all of it and just wanted to lean on Cole, to soak in his confident strength, if only for a short while.

He kissed the top of her hair, breathed in her scent. “We both are, sweetheart. For the next two days, we don’t have to fight anything, least of all each other.”

Whatever resistance she might have been able to muster vanished. She gave herself over to the music playing between them, moving in beat to the tune, going wherever Cole led regardless of the consequences that were sure to follow.