Private Maneuvers (Wingmen Warriors 4)

He flicked to the next page of the base paper without looking up. "Wanna head up to the deck or go inside?"

"You assume I need you now like after the snake attack and back in the hospital."

He would be right, not that she intended to admit it.

Max closed the paper, folded it in half and tucked it under his arm with precision. "Maybe I need to see you."

Well, hell. The guy sure knew how to sap the air out of a girl's anger. Darcy jammed her key into the lock. "Okay. You've been a good friend. You've seen me, checked up on me. I'm really fine. Or as fine as can be expected when I've almost died twice in a week."

And she hadn't even flown combat. Talk about a crash course in survival. She swung open her door and strode inside. His determined footsteps tracked her into the darkened room.

Darcy flipped the light switch and pivoted on her boot heel. "Good manners dictate you wait to be invited in."

"Thanks for the tip. I'll take it under advisement."

"The new Max is even grumpier than the other one."

He didn't budge. "So I've been told. Thanks again for the etiquette lesson."

His broad chest offered comfort, calling to her with a power more intense than an embossed invitation. Especially with an empty bed only five feet away.

She needed space. Now. Maybe if she ignored him he would leave.

Darcy plopped down in a chair and started untying her boots. She thumped one, then the other onto the floor, and still Max loomed by the door. Would the guy ever get the message?

Standing, she hooked her hands on her hips. "Leave, please, so I can get some sleep."

He took a lazy step nearer to her. To the bed. "Do you really want me to go?"

"Yes." No.

"All right, then." He absorbed her with the slow ride of his eyes one last time before he turned to grip the knob.

"Max!" Damn. She bit her lip.

He didn't turn back. Just waited.

Damn him again for making her be the one to say it. But he'd been right in the hospital. They couldn't leave it like this.

She let the question fall from her mouth, a question that had tormented her insecurities. "Is that your real name?"

His hand fell away from the door. Slowly he turned, and she was confused all over again. She didn't recognize this man any more than the Max of the weeks prior. The man of the past few days.

She looked closer and found...he was pieces of both.

Could that be wishful thinking? She didn't know or have the energy to wade through it all at the moment. This man stretched her comprehension on a good day.

This had not been a good day.

He stepped forward, closed the space between them and extended his hand. Took hers in warm callused heat that was oh-so familiar. "Hi, I'm Max Keagan, and yeah, that's my real name, although I've answered to others on occasion when the job called for it. I have an undergraduate degree in biology from Stanford. A doctorate in marine biology from the University of San Diego. And somewhere along the way to typing 'the end' on my dissertation, I accepted an intriguing offer to work for the government."

She listened—and heaven help her, even believed— all the while wondering why she couldn't bring herself to pull her hand from his enfolding grasp.

Her toes curled in her socks. "And the part about being a military brat, was that just a cover story? A way to get closer to me so you could—'' she winced on the bitter word "—'protect' me?"

Max looked into Darcy's eyes and realized his answer could mark a beginning or end. His choice.

He could so easily slide into any number of personas he'd donned over the years and send her running. That would sure as hell simplify things. He'd checked on her. Found her safe. He could walk away as he'd done countless times before.