Navy Orders. Geri Krotow

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СКАЧАТЬ as easy as one, Ro. It’s my thighs that grip the seat, not my calves. And my prosthetic leg does what I need it to, even on a motorbike.” He eyed her with restrained patience in the still-light evening. Whidbey Island was so far up north that the sun stayed up until nine or so on a spring evening.

      “I’ve had the bike outfitted to my specifications.” Of course he had. He was an amputee, not an invalid.

      She put her palms to her shame-heated cheeks.

      “I’m sorry, Miles. I’m not questioning your ability.”

      “Yeah, you are, Roanna.”

      “It’s not you, it’s me, really—I’m not the motorcycle type. Besides, isn’t there some navy regulation that prevents us from riding motorcycles?”

      “The only reg that says anything about it is that we can’t drive recklessly. I don’t do that.” He cocked one eyebrow at her. “As for not being the bike ‘type,’ you may surprise yourself. You look like you’d adapt in no time.”

      Shame turned to desire and inflamed her face, her throat, her stomach. Just the briefest flirtation with Miles set her on fire.

      This investigation needed to get wrapped up fast or she risked breaking the one promise she’d made to herself and had always kept.

      Never date a man in uniform, especially one you work with.

      Unfortunately, the population of single men in Oak Harbor who weren’t on active duty greatly diminished her chances of finding someone to distract her from Miles.

      And what will you do when you prove that no one tempts you as much as Miles does?

      * * *

      MILES KEPT HIS revelations to himself. The expression on Ro’s face when she spotted his bike had been priceless. She tried to be so tough and was quite the naval officer, but he was learning that she’d forgotten that it was okay to be a girl, too.

      Girl, hell. More like a woman of amazing beauty. Her large, round breasts couldn’t be hidden in her khaki uniform blouse. The formfitting hoodie she had on tonight left even less to his imagination—in which he’d already held Ro’s breasts and—

      He groaned.

      “What’s wrong?”

      Shit. He thought his sexual frustration had been silent.

      “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He flipped up the top of the storage box and pulled out a helmet, which he handed to her.

      “Put this on and make sure the strap is snug, like a flight helmet.”

      “I’m not—”

      “You already told me. Frankly, Ro, I’ve never seen you as a pussy. Don’t start now.”

      Anger threw sparks out of her irises that almost made him laugh. But her anger wasn’t the passion he really wanted to spark. For now, it’d have to do.

      His strategy appeared to work as she shoved the helmet on her head.

      “You win this one, Miles, but if you pull any crap on the road—” she adjusted the neck strap “—like speeding or making crazy turns―” she snapped the buckle on the strap into place “—or making me feel at all uncomfortable―” she pulled down the visor “—I’m done.”

      He hated not being able to see her eyes.

      “Got it.”

      He put on his own helmet and lifted his good leg, his right leg, over the bike. It was one of the many adjustments he’d had to make since losing the left leg. He used to mount bikes and horses alike with his left leg first. He still could if he really wanted to, but he felt much more stable doing it the new way.

      Ro remained next to the bike.

      “Get on.”

      She complied, although he understood beyond any measure of doubt that she did so only because she, too, was convinced this was the best way to travel at the moment—light, fast and basically undercover.

      His abdomen quickened when her hands reached around his waist and clasped in front of him. The fact that she didn’t even try to hold on to the back handle inexplicably pleased him.

      Despite her refusals to see him on a social basis, she trusted him on some gut level. She wouldn’t be on his bike, much less with her arms around his waist, unless she did.

      That insight was enough to make him pray she didn’t allow her hands to wander any farther south or she’d know just how much he wanted her to trust him.

      Miles smiled broadly under his helmet and revved the engine.

      He’d enjoyed an active, commitment-free sex life before the accident. It was the only kind he’d felt safe having; with worldwide missions that took him away often and unpredictably, he hadn’t wanted to settle down. He especially hadn’t wanted to worry that he’d left a widow or, heaven forbid, orphan behind.

      That was then, this was now. He’d had some time to think about his life and the fact that he wasn’t immortal. He’d known he could die while he was out on deployment—half expected it. It was part of the package when he signed on for explosive ordnance, and then again when he’d joined efforts with the SEALs on his last set of missions.

      He’d faced the possibility of his own death head-on.

      He sped the bike past the fir tree-lined streets in Ro’s neighborhood and eased them onto the main highway that bisected Oak Harbor and the island. They were headed north to where Petty Officer Perez had lived with his wife and two young children.

      Miles turned on the motorcycle’s communications system and filled Ro in on the brief meeting he’d managed with the CACO.

      The Perezes lived off-base. Mrs. Perez was a nurse and had a good job at the base hospital, so they could afford to purchase their own home. This wasn’t the case for most navy sailors who, once they had families, had to live in base quarters just to make ends meet. Living on base meant no rent, no utilities other than telephone, cable and internet. Quarters were often cramped but very livable, especially on Whidbey Island with the abundant natural scenery. It was easy to enjoy most weekends outdoors year-round, which made up for the tiny homes.

      The Perezes had done well for themselves.

      He pulled the bike into a small cul-de-sac in the Perezes’ neighborhood, then took his helmet off and motioned for her to do the same.

      They were still on the bike.

      “Why didn’t you just pull up to the house?” Ro’s voice was low and he liked how he could feel the faint timbre of it.

      “I could have—they’ll assume we’re here for a condolence visit either way. But I’d rather not run into anyone who knows us if we can help it. Discretion being the better part and all that, right? I thought it might be a good idea to walk around the neighborhood and get a feel for the area first. Plus we might get some information out of their neighbors.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ