Fully Engaged (Wingmen Warriors 12)

No. Stop. He wouldn’t go there in his head and if he didn’t pull back from this kiss soon, he would be going much further than either of them was ready for.

He couldn’t afford the distraction when he needed to think about her safety—especially when he had a long night ahead of him sharing a room with her. Easing away, he ended the kiss with a final brush over her lips, then the tip of her nose, her closed eyes, her forehead, before resting his chin on top of her head.

Best to keep things light. They couldn’t pretend the kiss didn’t happen, but he didn’t want to talk it to death. He’d better grab hold of the conversation first.

“About watching over you tonight and the whole couch dilemma, if I sleep in your bed, I think I may suffocate from all the ruffles and powder puff.”

She chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

“Nah, just a surprise since I expected something more…sleek. But I like surprises.” His smile faded and his hand slid away from her back. He draped his arm along the back of the chair. “Even if I conceded and let you sleep on the sofa, you would be out in the living room while I’m in the next room, down the hall, too far away.”

Her spare room only contained office furniture, not even a sofa.

“How about this then,” she offered. “We’ll both sleep in the garage apartment tonight. You sleep on the bed and I will sleep on the sectional sofa, which does have a pullout sofa bed.”

He could live with the compromise. The place had fewer entrances to guard and the guy would actually be less likely to look for her there. Yeah. It fit. She was a reasonable woman. A reasonable woman who’d had one helluva day. He couldn’t resist teasing another smile from her.

“On one condition.”

She cocked her head to the side. “What would that be?”

“Tomorrow, you let me bench-press you as my weights so I can restore my lost testosterone percentage points.”

Her shoulders shook with another laugh, weary, but still a solid chuckle. She extended her hand. “Deal.”

“Deal.” He closed his fingers around hers—soft, long fingers he could remember stroking over him with tender thoroughness, leaving him damn near begging at times.

He gritted his teeth.

Definitely a long night ahead of him.

God, this was a long flight.

Nola gripped the stick in her hand. She’d been called in to sub for Bronco, who’d thrown out his back in an intramural game of basketball. She’d barely made the requisite twelve-hour crew rest for the afternoon flight, but the squadron commander really needed this mission—with the demo of new upgrades to the aircraft. And, quite frankly, she hadn’t minded the space from Rick after spending the night in the same room, after sharing a hair-curling kiss neither of them discussed. Instead, she’d hugged a pillow and listened to him breathe.>“Okay, now. Take it slow and easy, mister.”

“I hear you.” He reached with one hand into his back pocket, carefully dodging his concealed Taurus .40 caliber pistol. “Here is my private investigator’s license. I am simply watching that house over there to see how long he stays with the lady. Let us just say the man is not her husband.”

The police officer lowered the beam to the documents, wide-brimmed hat shadowing his eyes until eventually his shoulders lowered as well. If body language could be believed, apparently he had bought the cover story. “I really don’t like people causing trouble, loitering around. Don’t make me pull your license.”

“I know my rights, and the police can only file a complaint against me. They cannot actually pull it.”

“Fair enough. But if I receive any more calls about you…”

“My business should be through tonight.” A lie, but he lied well and with a straight face. He would simply have to be more careful about staying hidden.

Perhaps he could even look into renting one of the small places nearby. Except the time seemed to be drawing closer. The hotel would serve his purposes as long as it had wireless access for him to work on his next plan to keep the heat turned up on Nola Seabrook’s life.

After dropping off Rick’s sheets without lingering, Nola finished her diet drink and tossed the can in the recycling bin back in the main house. She should probably find something to eat, but her stomach still hadn’t settled from her car explo—

Oh, hell. Who was she kidding? Her belly was turning loop-de-loops over the fact that she had a man living under her roof again. Didn’t matter they weren’t sharing a bed. They were sharing shingles.

She’d trusted a near stranger with her safety over a squadron full of friends. How messed up was that? Or maybe it made total sense because this way she maintained some control. Some distance. Not that she’d kept her distance very well when she’d landed in Rick DeMassi’s lap earlier. What a freaking mess.

Okay, she would reclaim her life. Be normal.

Nola snagged an apple from a basket on the counter and crunched. She hit the remote to turn on her favorite jazz music and started shedding clothes on her way to her bedroom.

She thrived on disarray in her home. She had more than enough of regimen at work these days. Her T-shirt went sailing to land on the back of her sofa. Nola kicked one shoe under the dining room table, the other under her telephone table.