Private Maneuvers (Wingmen Warriors 4)

This sexy, fascinating guy had asked her out and the only answer she'd scrounged up was, Sure.

Not, I'll have to get back to you once I've checked the flight schedule.

Or something elusive but witty like, We always gather at the Officers' Club. I'm sure we could find an extra bar stool for you.

Or even just a mature, straightforward, That sounds great. How about I meet you at the Officers' Club around seven?

Nope. She'd gone all shivery like some high schooler standing beside her locker with the quarterback.

Sure.

In the distance, wild boonie dogs howled a mocking salute. Not a great omen for her drink date.

Max pulled a clipboard from Tag's hands and flipped through the pages, scrawling notations. His pen stopped, hovering on the papers.

He looked up, straight at her, and Darcy forgot all about confrontations with her commander and dreaded calls to her father. For a moment she could have sworn she found an echo of her own confusion in Max's eyes. Not that she actually could have seen it since he stood a good twenty or so yards away.

But, oh, what if she had? The notion teased at her, warming that inexperienced "sure" part of her more than the morning sun rising overhead.

Perhaps with all that time spent in the hallowed halls of academia, he might not be as savvy as he looked. His dedication to his job and sea mammals was obvious. What if his social life stunk as much as her own, thanks to work?

Her fling fantasy with a beach-bum, genius lothario morphed into a new scenario. Maybe he was shy.

Confident in his academic realm, but as awkward as she was when it came to relationships. That would explain why he'd suddenly blurted out an invitation after seeming reluctant to talk.

Darcy's flagging confidence upped a notch. She didn't imagine for a minute the guy might actually be a virgin, especially after the slow-simmer looks he'd given her. But maybe, just maybe, she'd found someone she could trust enough to be herself with, dopey "sure" sorts of answers and all.

Max passed the clipboard back to Tag, circled to the passenger side of the truck and disappeared inside. Darcy exhaled a proverbial hurricane of pent-up air and energy.

Tomorrow she would find him during a break. If she and Max had a chance to talk more before their drink, she could ditch all the butterflies performing aerial maneuvers in her stomach.

She would prove to herself she wasn't afraid to take risks. Surely she'd only been avoiding them out of deference to her father's feelings. Right?

Not because dreams of a dank cement bunker still slipped past her defenses.

Darcy pressed her fingers to her eyes to swipe away sweat and memories she was beyond ready to erase. She focused her gaze as well as her thoughts on the present. The lumbering flatbed truck turned off the flight line onto the narrow road bordering the ocean.

Maybe rather than Max being a big preliminary risk, she'd found a temporary safe haven before she launched into the biggest risk of her life. Putting the past behind her. A mission more important than even her career.

Chapter 3

"If I'd wanted safe, don't you think I'd have opted for another career field?" Max asked the three military intel contacts standing beneath a palm tree. He kept his voice low, although their conversation would likely be masked by the crashing waterfall a few yards away. A pack of howling boonie dogs added to the jungle symphony of humming insects and rustling branches.

Max stared at the stony faces in front of him and knew he wasn't gaining ground. They were determined to tail his every move, had even been waiting when he'd stepped out of the water.

He draped a T-shirt around his neck and tried a different tack. "I'll concede the need for checking in with reports, but I can't keep tripping over your people."

"This isn't negotiable, Keagan." Crusty Baker hooked his hands on his hips. With his slack demeanor gone, the dark-ops test pilot's lethal edge gleamed in his eyes. All wrinkled flight suits and sunflower seed snitching aside, he made a helluva military intel contact. "Whether you like it or not, there are more people involved. Others at risk."

"You think I don't know that? That's the reason I want this operation streamlined as much as possible." His thoughts shot straight to Darcy. No way around it, her need-to-know-only status put her in a vulnerable position. Contact with him flat-out put her in danger. "This island is too small with too many unknowns. You need to step back and let me do my job."

The Army CID agent in charge of secured communications twirled a tropical flower between her palms. Not that anyone would recognize her as a lethal spook in her floral muumuu and hoop earrings. "You can send me on my way if you want, buddy boy. I'll happily pack up my encryption equipment and enjoy a vacation in the sun. But you'll find it mighty darned difficult to get those reports home by smoke signals and drumbeats."

"Okay." Max nodded his reluctant concession to the muumuu agent. "You've made your point. You I can understand. But Lurch over there..." He jerked a thumb toward the towering Special Operations para-rescueman leaning against a palm tree and eagle-eyeing every nook of the jungle. "He's gotta go. Too conspicuous."

Crusty shook his head. "Package deal. Sorry. He's in charge of physical safety. Checking for tails. Hauling your butt out of the water if things go bad."

"I don't need some baby-sitter bodyguard watching my back." Which was why he preferred to work alone. No one took his risks upon themselves anymore.