His Woman in Command & Operations: Forbidden: His Woman in Command / Operation: Forbidden. Lindsay McKenna

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СКАЧАТЬ ready to whisk them to a tent for the night.

      By the time Nike had them settled, it was pitch-dark. Gavin met her outside the tent.

      “They all set?”

      “Yes. Finally.” Nike quirked her mouth. “What a day.”

      Gavin nodded and fell into step with her as they headed to the chow hall on the other side of the base. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks. I know Jameela feels better because she knows you and trusts you.” No lights marked the camp after night fell. To have it lit up was to invite attacks by the Taliban. Each of them had a small flashlight to show the way between the rows of green canvas tents.

      The cool night air revived Nike. She was always tense after such a flight. It felt good to talk about little things, and, even though she didn’t want to admit it, she was glad to have Gavin’s company. After chow, she’d go to ops and fill out her mission debrief report.

      Inside the large, plywood-floored tent, the odor of food permeated the air. Nike found herself hungry, so they went through the line and ended up at a wooden picnic table in the corner. She eagerly sipped her hot coffee. Gavin sat opposite her.

      “You a little hungry?” she teased Gavin, who sat opposite her, digging into roast beef slathered with dark brown gravy.

      “Listen, when you eat as many MREs as we do, real food is a gift,” he said, popping a piece of beef into his mouth.

      Nike could only imagine. There were mashed potatoes with that thick, brown gravy, corn with butter and a huge biscuit. She ate as if she’d never seen food. Normally, she didn’t have such a large appetite, but tonight, she did. “This hits the spot,” she told him.

      “Mmm,” Gavin mumbled, barely breathing between bites.

      Nike grinned. “If you don’t slow up, you’re going to choke on that food you’re shoveling down your gullet.”

      Chastised, Gavin had the good grace to flush. He slowed down a little. “You have no idea how good real, hot food tastes.”

      “I probably don’t. I’m spoiled. I might fly every day or night, but I can come here and get good chow. I hate MREs.”

      “Everyone does,” he said between bites. He took his third biscuit and pulled it open. After putting in several slabs of butter, he took a big bite.

      Nike saw the absolute pleasure the food gave him. She knew these A teams were out in the wilds for a month at a time, sometimes more. This unexpected trip was a real present to Gavin. She tried to ignore how handsome he was, even with the full beard.

      “Do you mind wearing your disguise?” she wondered, pushing her empty plate to one side. She held the white ceramic mug of coffee between her hands.

      “No.”

      “It’s got to be different from the spit and polish of shaving every day.”

      “Oh, that.” Gavin touched his neatly trimmed beard. “I bet you wonder what I look like without it?”

      “No…”

      “Sure you do.” He grinned.

      “I was just wondering how you liked going under cover.”

      Shrugging, Gavin finished off his third and final biscuit. “Doesn’t bother me. Usually, when we’re out for a month, we’re riding horses and doing our thing.”

      “So you’ve all learned how to ride.”

      “That or fall off.” He laughed. Scraping up the last of the gravy, he sighed. “That was damn good food. I wish I could take this back to the guys.”

      “You and your team go without a lot of things,” Nike said, feeling bad for them.

      “Luck of the draw,” Gavin said. He wiped his mouth with his paper napkin, pushed the plate aside and then picked up his cup of coffee. “I’d rather be on the ground than threading the needle with that hulking helo of yours. That must take some starch out of you.”

      “Sure it does. Seat-of-the-pants kind of flying. I don’t mind doing nap-of-the-earth. I do mind getting shot at.”

      Chuckling, Gavin felt the warmth of the food in his belly. How lucky he was that Nike had shared such a meal with him. He felt happiness threading through him like sun shining into a dark valley. “Makes two of us. I felt for Jameela. The poor woman is probably going to refuse to step into the CH-47 tomorrow morning.”

      “We’ll have to persuade her that the flight to Kabul will be smooth and quiet, unlike the snaking flight from her village.”

      “I don’t know if she’ll believe me,” Gavin said.

      “She’ll get on board because her daughter is going to be fitted for a new leg.”

      “I appreciate all you did. If you hadn’t been there, this would have been a lot tougher. Muslim customs don’t allow any man to touch a woman.”

      Shaking her head, Nike muttered, “I’m glad I was there, but I can’t see how their women live in such a state. I know I couldn’t.”

      “Different realities, different belief system,” Gavin said. “We don’t have to like it for ourselves, but we have to understand and respect them for it.”

      “Glad I’m a woman from a democracy, thank you very much.”

      Gavin smiled. “Dessert? I saw some great-looking cherry pie over there. Want some?”

      “Sure.”

      He got up. “Ice cream on it?”

      In that moment, Nike saw he was like a little boy in a candy store. The light dancing in his readable blue eyes made her heart melt. “Why not?”

      “Be right back.”

      She watched him thread his way through the noisy, busy place. This was the dinner hour and the place was packed with crews. There were a few A teams, as well, all dressed in their Afghan clothing. Still, as she allowed her gaze to wander around the area, Nike thought Gavin Jackson stood head and shoulders above any other man present. Maybe she was prejudiced. Maybe she liked him more than she should.

      Feeling uneasy for a moment, Nike didn’t question why she decided to have a meal with him. If she was really sincere about not ever wanting to love a military man again, she’d have left him at the chow hall and disappeared. But she hadn’t. Damn.

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