shrugged. “How hard can it be?”
He laughed as he came forward and stashed the bottle and cups inside one of the saddlebags. “Maybe another time.”
“What? Do you have a problem riding behind a woman?” she asked. Her tone was light, but Chance paused, sensing something more in her words.
He straightened and gave her a slow grin. “Actually, no, I don’t. In fact, it’s one of my favorite positions.”
Even in the darkness, Chance didn’t miss how her eyes assessed him. After a moment, she slid back, relinquishing the driver’s position. Leaning forward, he braced one hand on the seat by her hip and the other on the handlebar. “Listen, if you had a motorcycle endorsement on your license, and if I knew for a fact you were completely sober and if I thought you could actually handle the weight of the bike and a passenger, I’d have no problem letting you drive, okay?”
Her fingers paused on the fastening of her helmet and her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Really?”
“Really. But for now, let me take care of it.” He traced a thumb along the soft curve of her jaw. “Besides, you feel good behind me.”
Without waiting for a response, he eased himself onto the bike, smiling as her arms came back around him. Within minutes, they reached a narrow road that meandered through the dark trees and finally emerged into a wide field. Directly in front of them lay the lights of Pope airfield, so close that Chance could see the shadowy figures of the controllers in the tower.
He drew the bike to a stop in the tall grass and waited for Jenna to dismount. Fireflies flickered in the darkness, and the sound of crickets filled the air.
“Wow,” she said, pulling her helmet off and staring at the airstrip. “This is amazing. We’re like fifty feet from the end of the runway.”
They were actually more than five hundred feet from the runway, but Chance didn’t disagree with her. Once the planes started to come in, the distance wouldn’t matter. Hanging their helmets from the handlebars, he dug through the saddlebags and withdrew a wool army blanket and the bottle of wine.
“C’mon, I’ll spread the blanket over here,” he said, tromping on the tall grass to flatten it. He opened the blanket and flapped it onto the ground, before sitting down. Jenna stood near the motorcycle, watching him. He patted the blanket invitingly. “C’mon. I promise not to bite.”
“Does anyone ever come out here?”
He shrugged. “Not that I know of. At least, I’ve never seen anyone else out here.” He indicated the woods behind them. “The road dead ends at an electrical service station about a quarter mile that way, so there’s no reason for anyone to come out here.” He smiled at her through the darkness. “But if there was, you’re safe with me.”
As she crossed to where he sat, Chance opened the wine and poured some into the paper cups, handing one to her as she lowered herself on the blanket beside him. Sitting cross-legged, she stared up at the sky. A brilliant light hung suspended in the distance, like an overly bright star signaling an incoming aircraft.
“Here comes one now,” she said, and took a sip of her wine before leaning over to look more closely at the bottle. “Mmm. Is this a pinot noir? You were actually listening to me.”
Chance nodded and took an appreciative sip. “Did I do good?”
She slanted an amused glance in his direction. “You’ve done okay. So far.”
“Then I’ll have to try harder,” he replied with a soft laugh. “Look, here she comes.”
Jenna turned her attention toward the incoming aircraft. Chance could hear the engines rev as the pilot throttled back.
“Looks like a cargo plane,” Jenna mused as it began its final descent.
“Yep. A C-130 Hercules. The 4th Brigade is doing a night jump, so this baby just dropped them off.”
As the plane drew closer, it appeared that it would fly directly over the spot where they sat. The aircraft came in low, its jets deafening on the night air. The vibration was enough that Chance felt it in his chest, and he looked at Jenna in time to see her mouth form a soundless “oh” of amazement as the big bird screamed over their heads. Even in the indistinct light, he could see the enjoyment on her face and felt a ridiculous sense of pleasure that he’d been responsible for putting it there.
“Wow,” she exclaimed, after the C-130 touched down. “That was freaking amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever watched a landing from quite this perspective.”
“The show’s not over yet. Look.” Chance directed her attention to a helipad on the far side of the runway. “They’ll send a brigade of Black Hawks out to extract the paratroopers from the jump site.”
As the roar of the C-130 engines faded, Chance could hear the thwap-thwap of the helicopter rotors churning to life. The first bird lifted slowly into the air and hovered for a brief moment, silhouetted against the night sky before accelerating forward, directly above the spot where they sat.
Chance lay flat on his back and drew Jenna down beside him, turning his head to watch her as five Black Hawks thundered above them, the downward wash from their rotors stirring the grass and blowing Jenna’s hair around her face.
“Oh, man, I love that sound!” She shifted on the blanket to look at him, laughing, and Chance felt his breath catch.
Setting his cup of wine aside, he rose up on one elbow and used his free hand to tug a strand of hair loose from the corner of her mouth, where it had caught.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, when the racket of the helicopters had faded.
She gazed up at him, still smiling. “Oh, yeah.”
Her eyes were mysterious in the dim light, her mouth soft and lush. Her dark hair fanned out on the blanket beneath her head and Chance twined a silky lock of it around his finger. Beneath her blouse, her breasts rose and fell in an agitated way, betraying the fact that she wasn’t nearly as relaxed as she pretended to be.
“So what made you go to Shooters tonight?” he asked, idly rubbing the strand of hair between his fingers.
She made a small, shrugging motion. “I went with a friend, more out of boredom than anything else.”
He fastened his gaze on her mouth. “And are you bored now?”
“Getting there,” she said huskily, and moistened her lips. “You might have to do something about that. Any ideas?”
“Well, for starters, I really want to kiss you,” he confessed in a husky voice, studying her face.
“Thank God,” she breathed. Reaching up, she slid a hand to the back of his head and drew him down to her.
CHASE RAWLINS CLEARLY knew how to kiss, and enjoyed doing it. He leaned over her, cupping her face in his palm as his mouth leisurely explored hers. His lips were warm and firm and he tormented her with soft, lingering kisses as his thumb caressed her cheek.
Jenna really had gone too long without sex. What other reason could there be for the way her blood hummed through her veins, or the way his touch did crazy things to her already heightened senses? She was acutely conscious of how warm and solid he felt against her body. He tasted faintly of wine, and she breathed in the intoxicating blend of his aftershave, the warm, fusty odor of the woolen blanket and the crisp scent of the crushed grass beneath them. She wanted to devour him, but he kept his kisses frustratingly sweet, teasing her, but not giving her what she craved.
“Open your mouth,” she breathed against his lips, desperate to taste him.
He made a noise, something between a groan and sigh, and then his tongue was in her mouth, sliding against hers and ratcheting up her need. The hot, moist kiss triggered an answering rush of dampness between her thighs. She wanted to throw a leg across his hips and press herself against him. Instead, she