Wingman Warriors - Joint Forces Part 12

Her hands fell to her stomach. His hungry eyes followed her gesture to the slight swell. He could almost feel the taut skin over the growing proof of their child. Had in fact felt it in days past when she'd carried their other children.

Would he be allowed to feel the roll of their baby under his hand this time? "Lower the hackles. I wasn't commenting on the food."

"Oh, uh, well, you probably didn't notice because I wore loose clothes."

If ever he'd needed the Bard's way with words, it was now. He'd just have to settle for simple honesty.

"That still isn't what I meant." He angled closer, elbows on the table. "You know I'm not much of a guy for woo-hoo stuff. But that pregnancy-glow thing-there must be something scientific to it. I mean, h.e.l.l, Rena, you've been in a wreck. Suffered a concussion. d.a.m.n near broke your foot, and you're still glowing so bright I could read by it."

Not an intimate touch to her tummy, but he could see his words warmed her nearly as much. Victory chugged through him.

A slow smile lit that glow to blinding levels. "I think there's a compliment in there somewhere."

"I guess so. Wish I'd actually thought to give it. But honestly, I'm just amazed that I could have been so clueless."

"We see what we want to see."

"Putting that psych degree to work?"

"Maybe. Or maybe just one of those side benefits to getting older."

Older. Odd how he could feel so old some days but she still seemed the same woman he'd married.

Only with better curves.

He reached for her hand. "Are you scared?"

Well, h.e.l.l, that was downright sensitive, and d.a.m.ned if she didn't let him hold her hand. Maybe the Bard

was rubbing off on him after all.

"Does it bother me having a baby this late in life? A little. With my job, I know the increased risks with age."

"And that worries you."

"I probably worry less than I did at eighteen. Maybe because I feel more ... at peace about

motherhood."

"So your fears are...?"

Being alone. He read it all over her face. He worked his thumb over her wrist. Who'd have thought he'd get such a rush out of holding his wife's hand and neither of them was even naked.

"I'm just being emotional. Hormones and all that. The timing's not the best, but I'm going to have a baby."

"We're going to have a baby." He squeezed her hand. "We. This is my child, too, so we're in this for another eighteen. At least. Remember that."

He tried to read her again and found ... more of that fear. Of him? He deserved a lot of things, but not that.

The back door rattled with a key. Rena jerked her hand away, momentary connection snapped. Chris swung the door open.

Frustration brewed in him. "Where have you been?"

"Talking with a friend." Chris snagged the bowl of chili from the table, found a fresh spoon and started shoveling. "Time kinda slipped away. Sorry."

Rena's hand fell to her son's arm to stop him midbite. "We worry. Call next time."

"Sure," he answered evasively before dropping the bowl in the sink. Fis.h.i.+ng a candy bar out of his pocket, he tore open the wrapper and tossed broken pieces into his mouth.

Warning bells clanged like an alert klaxon. The kid had plenty to be edgy about, but was there more?

He had two weeks to find out. Two weeks of nonstop one-on-one time with his wary wife, where he would be helping her with her every intimate need while refraining from giving her the most intimate of touches.

If J.T. didn't touch her, really touch her soon, she would burst into flames. Or scream. Or do something equally embarra.s.sing that would leave her husband frowning pensively, then helping while giving her a wide berth as he'd done for the past week and a half.

True to his word, he'd been around whenever she needed him, all his flights conveniently scheduled at night after she fell asleep and Chris was already home. But even though J.T. slept part of the day, his presence still filled the house, reminding her of the good times, until she feared coming down with a convenient case of amnesia when it came to remembering all that drove them apart.

At least they were out of their too-close quarters, their home having become a sauna of need. Instead, spring heat baked the roof of the truck, lunch-hour traffic spewing exhaust on the highway leading toward the base. Nausea tickled, but at least it distracted her from her achy foot. Achy, but no longer throbbing and sans st.i.tches.

A cargo plane roared low overhead on its approach for landing. She fidgeted along the bench seat, anxious to finish up the drive, get back to work, even for an hour or two. J.T. wasn't happy about it, but she couldn't juggle this particular patient to another counselor. And the afternoon would also offer J.T. the chance to fit in a training cla.s.s at the squadron while he waited.

Could he tempt her from clear across base? Seeing him so hot and hunky in his flight suit didn't help.

He'd been doing a mighty fine job of tempting her the past few days even in his favorite Hawaiian s.h.i.+rts and jean shorts. So attentive. So blasted perfect. He carried her up the stairs. Down the stairs. To the shower. Sat beside her on the sofa, shared popcorn, watched chick flicks with her, brought tissues when she cried over the endings because her own life sucked so bad. And never, never once did he make a move on her.

Who the h.e.l.l was this man and what had he done with her husband?

"We need to talk."

And now he wanted discussion?

The world was totally screwed up. Maybe his trip into base would mark a s.h.i.+ft from all those night flights to day flights so he wouldn't be around to entice her during waking hours. "About what?"

He slowed onto the exit ramp off the highway at the base exit during lunch rush hour. "Do you think everything's okay with Chris?"

That sounded more like her husband, focusing on the kids. Safe territory.

She considered his question through an entire traffic light. She'd traveled this familiar parental route with her husband often in the past. He would ask her how he should approach one of the kids. She would give him advice that he always followed. She felt needed.

But he would be parenting alone during his weekends and vacations with Chris. Even though she was close now to help, what if he was transferred? He couldn't pick up the phone every time he had a question about what to say to their son.

He was a loving father, worked hard at being there for his kids. But only now did she realize how he always acquiesced to her way when it came to parenting.

She'd let him rely on her. Had she wanted him to need her on at least some level? A painful notion because then she would have done her children a disservice.

d.a.m.n it, she'd tried her best to balance everything. He was gone so often, most of the daily parenting fell to her. They couldn't afford a slew of phone calls. The Internet and e-mails helped with keeping him in touch with his kids, but that hadn't been a major-player option until they were older.

She circled her jumble of bracelets round and round her wrist. No use beating herself or him up about the past. Just do the best she could with their present and future.

Concentrate on the present, improving the right now. Instead of giving advice, she would ask his opinion. "What makes you think there might be something wrong with Chris?"

"He was late coming home the day of your accident, then again the night you were released from the hospital. Sure he mouths off sometimes like any teenager, but he keeps close to home."

"Have you asked him what's wrong?"

"He's had plenty of chances to talk and no dice. I know I haven't been around much, but I sure as h.e.l.l tried this week, worked out with him, jogged. I even showed him how to fix stuff around the house."

So Chris could repair things after his father left again? "Did you ask him what he's feeling?"

His jaw tightened in familiar defensiveness as he down-s.h.i.+fted along the pine-lined entry road leading up to the base. "Men aren't into all that touchy-feely emotional c.r.a.p."

"Lovely."

He rubbed a hand along his neck. "Back down, babe. I respect what you do. G.o.d knows, anyone who'd drag her wounded self up there to work is obviously devoted."

Sure he respected her job. Just didn't believe in it and wouldn't touch a penny of her paycheck for so

much as a family vacation to blow off steam created by his job. "Some clients could wait a couple of weeks without setting back progress. With others, it's not so simple."

"Tough one?"

Not nearly as tough as getting through to her own husband, but then he wasn't a patient, and she couldn't heal her family. She knew that. But accepting it? Not so easy.

J.T. flashed his military ID at the security gate and the guard waved him forward. "I'm not looking for you to break confidentiality. Just expressing interest in your world."

"Thank you." She twisted sideways toward him. "You know that's borderline touchy-feely."

"Touch?" He echoed the word that had been plaguing her all day-for days, actually. Was he a mind reader now, too? "We probably need to stay away from that subject if we're going to lay some new groundwork for taking care of this little one."

Of course he was right. She totally agreed. So why was she cranky? She'd won, after all.

J.T. turned off toward her office, red brick building sprawling in front of her, while he hunted for an empty spot in the jammed lot. She was confident in her job, but still her own screwed-up home life made her question her judgment. And, oh, this man did so have a way of jumbling her mind. "Just as well Chris interrupted last week. We're too old for the over-the-kitchen-counter quickies."

"We weren't too old for it three months ago. And you sure as h.e.l.l weren't too old for the table, the stairs, the shower-"

"s.e.x was never our problem, J.T."

Steam filled the truck's cab. He s.h.i.+fted the truck into park. The packed parking lot of empty cars offered a pseudo sense of solitude in spite of the public locale, blue minivan on her left, an RV on the right, even a Humvee in front of them. Still, he didn't reach for her.

But his hands shook from the restraint.

Rena launched into his arms. Couldn't help herself. No surprise.

Did he meet her halfway? She didn't know, and with his lips and hands finally on her, she couldn't think or reason. Only feel. Savor. His touch licking fire through her veins.

He palmed her back, molded her against his solid body, soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s yielding against hard chest.

And taste, oh, the taste of him as she explored the warmth of his mouth. Talk about cravings. One apparently he suffered from, as well, his tongue delving deeper, sweeping, heating. She could almost forget they were in a public lot.

Rena inched closer, her calf-length skirt tangling around her legs, scrunchy fabric rasping against skin suddenly over-sensitive to the least sensation. How incredible it would be to park somewhere private and toss away inhibitions, pretend they were both twenty-two years younger.

Strong hands gripped her shoulders. Eased her back, broke their kiss, but not the touching. His forehead rested on hers. "G.o.d, babe, I've missed you."

Her eyes stung and she knew full well it had nothing to do with pregnancy hormones. "I've missed you, too."

She started to slide her arms around him again. Surely they could hug without getting arrested for a public display. She reached, her bracelets jangling to her elbow. He pulled away.

What?

He opened the door. Where the h.e.l.l was he going? For the first time in months there was a hint of real emotion and he decided they should head on into work.

She longed for one of his books to throw. Breathe. Think. Don't let the angry, pa.s.sionate-pained- emotions clamoring through her reign.

Rena clamped a hand around his arm. "Hold on a minute. Jesus, J.T., you throw that land mine in my lap, clam up and then wonder why I explode."

Tension rippled under her fingers. "I'm not going to fight with you today."

"I don't want to fight." She really, really didn't want to fight at the moment. But a public parking lot wasn't the place for what her body demanded. "We were talking. That's good. Why do we have to stop?"

His smoky gray eyes brushed her lips as surely as his kiss, lingered, finally fell away. A long exhale cut the silence before he swung his feet back into the truck. "Okay, fine. We'll talk. We never did come up with anything concrete about Chris, anyway."