Explosive Alliance (Wingmen Warriors 9)

"All of them around the squadron. None of them in reality. It's a takeoff from my real first name."

"What is it?"

"I've gone by Bo for so long, nobody even remembers my real name."

"And it is?" She needed to know. Because he'd kissed her? Or because she wanted to be different from everyone else?

His jaw flexed in time with a low roll of thunder in the distance. "I was named for my father, and my call sign grew from that long before I joined the Air Force."

Her heart ached for him and the pain he still obviously carried over losing his parents.

"And his name was?" she asked gently.

Winds encircled in a band somehow far more intimate than the halo of light, the gusting growing stronger until it seemed to create a vortex with them at the epicenter.

Finally he shrugged with a no-big-deal air. "Boyd, which I shortened to Bo. I'm not much into the junior gig."

"Okay, Bo it is then." Thunder cracked again, followed by a distant snap of more lightning.

He straightened from the tree and stopped her swing with one hand. "We should probably get away from this hundred-year-old lightning rod."

"I guess so." She stood, bringing their faces close again, much like when they'd kissed on the porch.

Thunder pounded. Or was that her pulse hammering? Another second and she would hop into the car with him to search out the nearest hotel. Good God, what was wrong with her? She considered herself a healthy woman with normal urges, but she didn't like the prickly heat stinging her skin with an out-of-control need.

She sidestepped him. "Good night."

Her feet beat a hasty retreat through the dusty yard thirsty for the rain. By morning she would have her head on straight again.

"Honey." Bo's voice rode the wind to stop her.

Huh? He couldn't mean... She turned on the bottom step. "What?"

He stood by the open door of his white rental. "You asked me to name the puppy, and I chose Honey because of the color of her fur."

Bo ducked into the sedan and slammed the door.

Honey. She rested her cheek against the porch post while taillights faded into the night. A raindrop splatted on her nose. He'd remembered their conversation, thought of her, wanted to name the puppy, and that stirred an unwelcome warmth in her heart. The burgeoning wind creaked the swing faster, thunder increasing to announce the impending storm to a woman too weak-kneed to dash inside even though rain dampened her hair.

If she expected to survive the next two weeks with her sanity intact, she needed to clear the air about this explosive attraction attacking their hormones. And definitely no more moonlit conversations.

Because who'd have thought his sensitive words would be as tempting as his kisses?

Chapter 8

"Crap!" Bo smacked a mosquito on his arm, striding out of the hangar storing his damaged C-17.

Too bad the Base Exchange wasn't open yet so he could pick up some Off spray before he headed to Paige's for the day. He scratched the rising bite bump. The mosquitoes were having a field day with the muggy aftermath of the rare rain providing new puddles to nest and multiply, generally making his crummy mood worse.

Another sleepless night would do that to a guy. No dreams but plenty of wakeful images to torment him, such as Paige's quivering chin when he'd done a simple thing like name a puppy. This was not the kind of woman a guy boffed in a haystack.

Blinking against the bright sunlight outside the shadowy hangar, he slapped his neck.

Mako's singing taunt followed him as the guy launched into a second chorus of the old seventies tune, "Tie a Yellow Ribbon," the oak tree reference catching him square on with more memories of Paige on the swing, pretty and tempting and so strong he wanted to protect her all the more.

He turned back, calling inside to Mako, "Hey, dude, have you ever considered voice lessons?"

Jet engine parts littering the concrete floor around him, Mako patted the side of the looming cargo plane. "This old gal likes my singing well enough as it is."