Authors: Lindsay McKenna
“I think if you’d stop lumping women under one label, you might find out there are quite a few like me.”
Bashfully he smiled. “Yeah, you’re probably right. You were right about which direction was south, too.”
Rachel managed a thin smile. “You’re too much, Chase. All these admissions in one day must be killing that proud fly-boy ego of yours.”
“They are,” he groused good-naturedly, grinning. She was so incredibly beautiful when she smiled. It was the first time he’d seen Rachel’s lips move upward since seeing him again. His gloom dissolved. Chase wanted her more than ever—to see her laugh in his arms, to see her smile after making love.
Reaching down, he picked a blue flower from the field. “You’re like this wildflower,” he told her, “tough and resilient in ways a hothouse variety isn’t. You’re one of a kind, woman.”
Sobering, Rachel stared at the flower he held. Chase possessed a large hand with long, strong fingers. A shiver of need wove through her at the memory of those fingers igniting fire within her, giving her unbelievable pleasure. The wind caressed the flower, bending it under the breeze’s gentle bidding.
“We’re all unique, Chase. Even though you’re a man, I try not to make general assumptions about you,” Rachel said, holding his gaze.
“I proved the groper stereotype.”
Her eyes crinkled. “Yes.”
“I couldn’t help it, Rachel. I was out of my head.”
“Chase.”
“Well, maybe not completely out of my head. But Rachel, you’re a beautiful lady. I like everything about you.”
“Everything?”
He smiled, noting the seriousness in her voice. He handed her the blue flower to add to the bouquet in her lap. “Everything,” he growled.
“Rachel?” Dr. Davis cocked his head, holding out his hand expectantly for the next instrument.
“Oh!” She handed him the needle and thread, embarrassed. Her thoughts weren’t on the injured soldier who had come in earlier. No, they were on Chase. Where had the days gone? It had been nearly two weeks since she’d last seen him in that field of flowers.
Davis grinned, completing the job. “He’s all yours, Miss McKenzie.”
Trying to make up for her lapse in attentiveness, Rachel nodded. She quickly dressed the soldier’s wound, a small cut on the arm, and released him back to his unit. Davis remained in the background, washing his hands in a basin.
“This is unusual behavior for you,” he told her when she came over to wash her hands.
“I’m sorry, Brad, I should have been concentrating more.”
A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I understand from Annie you’re sweet on some fly-boy captain over at Taegu. Trayhern his name? Annie said he called over here half an hour ago and is coming to visit.”
Heat prickled her cheeks. Rachel was going to strangle Annie. Scrubbing her fingers, she muttered, “It’s not what you think, Doctor. Captain Trayhern called and said he needed some medical help. Now, I don’t call that a hot date, do you?”
Chuckling, Davis picked up a towel, drying his hands and then passing it over to Rachel. “Not exactly. Still, you’re sweet on him, aren’t you?”
Rachel tossed the towel into a nearby receptacle. “No…” she answered softly.
Davis studied her critically. “I think Annie’s right: You like him, but won’t admit it. I’ve got to give this captain credit, he’s creative about finding ways to come calling.”
Rolling her eyes, Rachel groaned. “I’m leaving! I’ve got half an hour before making rounds in recovery, Doctor.” Crossing between tents, the mid-October wind tugged at her fatigues. The wind was sharper than usual today, promising a bitter winter ahead. Her mind and heart lingered on Chase. What was wrong? Did he really need medical help? Or was it a ruse? Worriedly she walked the well-trodden dirt path toward recovery.
A jeep pulled into view, and she saw Chase in the passenger seat. The driver was a young man with dark, curly hair. Her pulse leaped erratically as the vehicle ground to a stop in front of her, a cloud of dust following in its wake.
Chase smiled, thinking how pretty Rachel looked in her wrinkled fatigues. Nothing could hide her slender body from him. “Hey, I’ve got a patient for you.” He climbed out, holding his leather jacket closed with his large hand.
Rachel smiled up at him, despite the nervousness she felt. She pointed toward admissions. The leather jacket was bulging with something inside it. Rachel gave him a curious look, but didn’t ask what he was hiding inside its folds. “Sure. Come this way.”
Chase fell into step beside Rachel, unable to tear his gaze from her. The wind played with her hair, and he longed to tunnel his fingers through those tresses himself. “How have you been? I haven’t been able to get the time off I expected. Hob’s turning up the heat on bombing missions to the north.”
When Chase had left two weeks ago, Rachel had told him not to come back—that there was nothing left to explore between them. Now, inexplicably, Rachel was happy he was here. “I’ve been kept busy,” Rachel admitted. She halted, opening the door into the large, roomy tent. “Come in.”
Chase walked over to a wooden table and opened up his jacket. “This little guy came around my tent this morning.”
Rachel stood on the opposite side, her eyes large with surprise. “It’s a puppy!” Automatically she reached for the small animal. To her dismay, the dog was starved, his ribs sticking out pitifully from beneath his matted brown fur.
“I call him Fred,” Chase offered, watching how carefully and lovingly Rachel held the puppy. Fred promptly whined and started licking her hand with an eagerness that made Chase wish it was him instead in her hands. “I heard whining outside my tent. He was sitting there looking like hell. I gave him some of my C rations, but he threw them up.”
“Poor baby,” she whispered, gently stroking Fred. Examining his floppy ears, she saw that mites infested them. “He’s starved, Chase. Look at his eyes, they’re almost matted shut because of malnutrition.” She ran her hands down his accordianlike rib cage, her heart breaking. “And he’s got mange.” Fred’s skin was ulcerated and flaking beneath her fingers.
“Will he make it?” Chase asked. The tenderness in Rachel’s voice unstrung Chase. Would she ever respond to him like that?
Time,
he cautioned himself,
and patience.
Since their day in the meadow, he thought he saw a slight change in her. Nothing dramatic, but hopeful. Chase hadn’t tried to kiss Rachel. It was as if she’d been waiting for him to start groping again, and he hadn’t. This time, he saw trust in her eyes instead of wariness.
She placed Fred back in Chase’s hands. “Hold on to him. I’m going to give him a B-12 shot and treat him just as I’d treat a malnourished villager.” She went to the cabinet, pulled out a hypodermic needle and a vial containing the vitamin essence. Rachel stole a look at Chase’s serious features. He looked tired and that worried her. Moving back to the table, she prepared the shot.
“How are you doing?”
Shrugging, Chase muttered, “The usual. Hob’s short on aircraft, so we’re flying double missions.”
Rachel met and held his gaze. “You’ve got dark circles under your eyes. Maybe you need a B-12 shot, too.”
He gave an adamant shake of his head. “Lady, those shots sting like hell! I’m fine, just a little short on sleep is all.” Placing Fred on the table, he held the puppy still for Rachel.
As carefully as possible, she administered the shot to Fred’s hindquarters. The puppy whined once, his brown eyes huge. Rachel patted him, murmuring affectionate praise. The puppy eagerly licked her hand.
“He’s going to get a bath. Do you have time to hang around and help, or do you have to get back right away?” Rachel would need help. Chase looked vulnerable as he picked up the puppy and pressed it against his chest.
“I can stay for a little while. Hob knows I’m on a mission of the utmost mercy.”
Smiling, Rachel led him behind another set of doors and into an area that contained two sinks and bathing facilities. She filled one sink with soap and water, the other with rinse water. She took Fred and carefully introduced him to the soapy water. The puppy happily stood in the basin, continuing to wag his long, thin tail. Chase came over, leaning against the sink, inches from Rachel. Hungrily he drank in her intent features. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured, meaning it. When she raised an eyebrow, he added, “Now, that’s not being a groper, is it? Can’t I admit I like seeing you, talking with you?”
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and Rachel smiled, gently washing Fred with a soft brush. “It’s nice to get a compliment,” she admitted.
“Whew!”
She laughed.
“What do you consider groping, then?” Chase pressed.
Rachel slanted an amused look in his direction. She laid down the brush and took a comb, beginning to unknot huge hunks of hair hanging on Fred’s dull coat. “What you did when we were behind enemy lines.”
He sighed dramatically, noticing that they were alone. Crossing his arms, Chase watched her work for several minutes before speaking again. No wonder the men loved having Rachel for a nurse. Her touch was exquisitely gentle. He’d never forgotten the feel of her lovely hands running across his body. Fred was sitting in the hock-deep water, obviously enjoying her attention and ministrations. Suddenly Chase felt jealous of the dog. “Do you consider a kiss groping?”
“Well…” Rachel stammered. She looked up, drowning in the brilliant blue of his eyes. His mouth was incredibly strong and beautifully molded. Remembering the persuasive power of his mouth against her lips, she sighed, her feelings in turmoil.
“Great!”
Rachel gave him a warning look that spoke volumes. She lifted Fred out of the sink and transferred him to the rinse basin.
Chase followed her. “Look, what’s a little kiss? If it’s mutual, there’s nothing wrong with it,” he argued quickly.
Using a cup, Rachel rinsed Fred off. “Your kisses always go a lot further, Chase. That’s what I have a problem with.” Her heart was pounding unevenly, and she had the distinct impression that Chase was preparing to kiss her. Rattled, Rachel looked around. No one else was in the area. She didn’t know whether to be glad or scared. His mouth was curved in a devil-may-care grin, melting her resolve, making her yearn to feel the strength of it against her lips once again.
Chase uncrossed his arms, holding them up in a gesture of conciliation. “What if I restrain myself, Rachel?”
She eyed him, placing Fred on a towel, beginning to pat the dog dry. Almost blurting out that she was more afraid that she couldn’t restrain herself, Rachel dodged the question, refusing to answer Chase.
“Look,” he urged, “we like each other. A lot. You know how hard I tried to locate you after we got to safety. Doesn’t that prove something?”
“I guess…”
Chase sensed Rachel’s sudden shyness. Checking to make sure no one was around, he gently took her by the shoulders, forcing her to turn and face him. Fred was wrapped in a white towel against her breast, looking up at him expectantly.
“Listen,” Chase said huskily, drawing her as close as the puppy would allow, “I like you, Rachel.” He caressed her tense shoulders. “I go to sleep thinking about you. I dream about you. Sometimes,” he grimaced, “I find myself thinking about you instead of concentrating on flying.”
Her eyes grew troubled. “No, Chase, don’t do that. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you on a flight—”
“Sh, Angel Eyes.” He smiled tenderly, his hands drifting upward, framing her flushed face. “Show me how much you like me with a kiss. Just a kiss…”
Fred whined and lunged upward, his long pink tongue relishing Chase’s jaw. Chase stepped back, surprised. Rachel burst out laughing. He grinned belatedly and joined her.
Sheepishly he wiped his jaw dry with the back of his hand. “I guess I had that coming.”
The fear left Rachel and she relaxed as Chase placed his hands on her shoulders again. Laughter still danced in her eyes.
“Does that make Fred a groper?” Chase teased mercilessly, drowning in her lovely green gaze.
“I—” Rachel giggled, placing the towel over Fred’s head to keep him warm—and contained. “I guess not.”
Chase lost some of his merriment, his fingers firm against her shoulders. “I don’t want you worrying about my flying. Okay?”
Hesitantly Rachel nodded, the air turning serious. “I’ll try not to.” She couldn’t tear her gaze from his mobile mouth.
“May I kiss you?”
Chase’s low voice tremored through her. “Don’t,” she pleaded softly, “do this to us.” Rachel tried to move from his grip, but he kept his hands firmly on her arms. Weakness moved through her. She recalled Chase’s skilled loving, and an ache began deep within her. Shaking her head, Rachel whispered, “This is all wrong, Chase. You want the kiss, that’s all, nothing more.”
He drew closer. “That’s not true, Rachel. I’m treating you as an equal from here on out. I’m being a gentleman about this. What do you want?” he murmured. “Tell me….”
His hot, gritty voice plunged through her, making her shaky. Chase was so close, so pulverizingly male. Her lashes fluttered shut as she leaned forward, answering his question. The first brush of his mouth was ethereal, almost reverent. Parting her lips, Rachel leaned upward, wanting more, urgency pounding through her. The second time, his mouth molded hotly against her own, erasing all thought, creating a lavalike world of heat that exploded through her lower body. His mouth was firm, seeking and searching hers. As his tongue traced her lower lip, a little cry vibrated in her throat. The effect was melting, her breathing becoming fast and erratic.
“Sweet,” Chase whispered hoarsely, trying to control himself. “You’re so sweet and clean, Rachel….” And he tasted each corner of her mouth, feeling her lower lip tremble in reaction. She was soft, womanly, and the pain in his loins grew unbearable. Chase tried to remain aware of Rachel’s needs instead of his own. As he reluctantly drew away, he saw how red her cheeks had become. As her lashes lifted to reveal lustrous eyes dazed with pleasure, a shaft of longing nearly shattered his resolve. His hands tightening momentarily on her face, he smiled sheepishly, releasing her. “I’ve gone far enough,” Chase said thickly.