He smiled. Shrugged. "Remember our deal back at Nellis? I'm gonna be stuck to you like a flight suit at high noon."
The smile didn't fool her or dilute the set of his stubborn jaw. "Okay. Fine. Keep up."
She walked faster. Her extra shadow kept pace into the hangar, looming while she talked to the doctor in charge and set up her station at a table with a folding chair for patients. God, she needed him gone before he sliced through her weary resistance like that metal through Santuci's fingers.
She pivoted, sighed. "Please, Jack, I'm here. I'm safe. You can step back at least a couple of feet. I need to tend to my patients, which I can't do with you hovering over me. So unless you need another anthrax shot?"
He paled. "Nope. All set," he asserted quickly. "Already had my first two in the series and won't need the third for another three months."
"Big baby." Stifling a grin, she turned away, reorganizing her medicine bottles in alphabetical order. "Go help someone else. You'll still be able to see me and keep track of my personal safety."
"Mon, you should know I'm not the kind to leave the little woman to fend for herself."
"Little woman?" Anger whipped her around to face him.
He grinned. Just grinned that sexy, unrepentant smile. And damn it, she couldn't help but smile in return. He always could charm her out of a mood, all the more reason to keep her distance. "You are so bad."
"I know. I'm in need of reform. Wanna spank me?"
And then other times he wasn't so charming. "Oh, yes," she said through gritted teeth. "I definitely want to."
Reaching over her tray of bottles and syringes, she whipped a pair of latex gloves from a box. Bumped elbows with her hardheaded hubby. She looked up to snap again.
But couldn't push more angry words free.
Deep brown eyes met hers. So close. The din around her faded from a roar to a dull hum. He raised his hand, took his time, as always, which gave her plenty of time to pull away. She didn't.
Jack tucked a straggling strand of hair behind her ear. "How did it go so wrong?"
Heavy silence settled between them while voices swelled again. Humvees revved outside. An intercom system barked sporadic tinny announcements.
A cleared throat snipped the tension, if not the longing.
Monica peered beyond Jack to find Colonel Drew Cullen waiting with folder in hand. A welcome distraction.
In-processing showed no favors to rank. The colonel in charge dropped into the folding chair. Colonel Cullen, who'd probably once worn earphones around his neck but now wore lines of life, worries, work. Lines like the ones recently added to Jack's face.
Had she put them there? How many more would she add before their divorce was final?
Divorce. The thought of cutting him out of her life stung like a needle in her chest. Not that Jack showed signs of leaving her side anytime soon.
Monica turned her back on him so she could concentrate on prepping the next injection. "Roll up your sleeve, Colonel. This one's going to burn a bit."
If only life gave warnings before owies.
"Just get to it, Major." Cullen grinned, a few years falling away until he looked a little less foreboding. He crooked his arm until his bicep bulged.
"Relax, Colonel—" she snapped her glove then tapped his flexed muscle "—and it will hurt less."
Jack growled, low and soft and totally predatory. Good God. Thank heaven either the Colonel didn't notice or pretended well. Sheesh, she hadn't even noticed that Colonel Cullen actually was rather hunky until Jack started with the Cro-Magnon growl.
She swabbed, jabbed.
"Well, what do ya know?" The Colonel smiled as she pulled the needle free and swabbed again.
"The third shot in the series doesn't hurt as much as the— Son of a bitch!"
Colonel Cullen winced when the burn apparently kicked in, popped a LifeSaver in his mouth.