Wingman Warriors - Joint Forces Part 6

Not gonna happen. "I'm a.s.suming the baby was conceived after my return then. You don't look far enough along to have gotten pregnant before we split."

Although, good G.o.d, Chris was right. She did have a slight bulge under the white sheet. How could he

have missed it? She would be three months along. While carrying Chris, she'd been unable to b.u.t.ton herpants by that stage.d.a.m.n. He was a bonehead not to have noticed or even considered the possibility."Yes, it was that night. I missed a pill while you were gone. I was ... upset. Days jumbled in my head."

Her pain from then radiated just as powerfully now. Pain he'd caused.

He needed to regroup. Now. He turned his back, reached for the water pitcher, pouring a cup for himself, another for Rena.

"J.T.? It was an accident."

"Of course it was." He jerked around to face her, pa.s.sed her a water gla.s.s. "I never thought otherwise."

Did she really think so little of him that she expected recriminations? Jesus. He might have hurt her, but

never like that.

Brown eyes wary, she took the cup from him without touching. "You are not moving home because of the baby. Let's get that straight right now. Our reasons for splitting still stand."

He leaned back against the wall, crossing one booted foot over the other. "What were those reasons again?"

"Don't be an a.s.s."

"Ah, reason number one." He drank half the cup of water in one swallow, icy cold along heated anger.

She'd called him a major a.s.s during their fight six months ago about the number-two strain on their marriage. Money.

"I'm sorry." Rena's voice softened. She rolled the cup between her palms. "My temper is right up there on the reason list. I drive you crazy. I know that."

"Oh yeah, babe-" a slow smile crept over his face "-you've definitely always driven me crazy."

Well, h.e.l.l. So much for smart strategies. But the unstoppable spark between them always had messed with their minds. Apparently still did.

"J.T., d.a.m.n it." She slammed her cup down on the end table beside a basket of flowers. "That's what got us into this mess before. And again now."

His smile faded. "Don't worry. I'm not planning to pressure you about getting back together." No pressure about it. Slow and steady won the day with his wife.

"You're not?"

"No." Think strategy, not how much easier it would be to kiss her quiet. Not about how tight the knot twisted in his stomach over the thought that even if he made it home, they weren't any better off than before. "You made yourself clear when you pitched my barbells and books out on the lawn six months ago."

And the reason for that final fight? They'd argued over the flipping family Christmas vacation, for G.o.d's sake. She'd insisted his lengthy deployments were taking a toll, making growing apart too easy. His fault. He knew it.

So he'd offered to take leave. Not good enough. She'd wanted to rent a cabin in the mountains, something she insisted they could afford now that she was working.

h.e.l.l. As if he needed it thrown in his face that he couldn't provide for his family on his own. As if he needed reminding of all the things she'd had growing up. Things he couldn't come close to giving her.

A fact that had been stewing in his gut for twenty-two years.

"Well, J.T., tossing those possessions on the lawn was just the start of venting problems years in the making. Three months ago proved that." She gripped the length of her hair in her hands and began twisting it into a knot on the back of her head. "We'll just draw up a new set of divorce papers."

His eyes tracked the moves of her hands against her glossy curls. He'd always wondered how the h.e.l.l she did that trick with her hair, had watched her hundreds of times, the memory of those strands gliding through his fingers never failing to make him hard.

He finished his water, pitched his cup in the trash. "Not until you're up and moving again. The doc said you need to stay off your feet for at least two weeks."

She paused midtwist. "What happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"We're married." For better or worse, they'd vowed. Vows that were about to be broken if he didn't ignore the chemistry and put a stop to this. "I already logged in a call to my commander for a lighter schedule while you recover."

"J.T.," she warned, arms reaching up as she finished securing her hair. "Remember that you left the last time. I'm not the only one who said we don't have a chance."

And that's what he got for talking. All the more reason to guard his words, so she couldn't throw them back in his face later.

He plowed ahead. "I can't be away from the squadron totally now." The drug surveillance flights with the feds were too sensitive to pa.s.s off to anyone else. Since he was already in the loop from the overseas mission, he'd been tapped for the flights. Bringing another loadmaster up to speed this late would cost valuable days anyway.

What a h.e.l.luva time to have a family crisis. "But all my flights will be at night, when Chris is around."

He ignored the burn in his gut that told him those flights would only bring more stress to his wife if she knew the truth about the mission. But there were so many things he could never share about his job.

However, since C-17 night flights were common around Charleston, his wife wouldn't question late takeoffs any more than anyone else in Charleston. All of which made the craft the logical choice to cart the DEA's surveillance equipment-much the same as used during the fateful flight in Rubistan.

With a little luck-okay, a lot of luck-the high-tech equipment loaded down on those pallets would eventually cough up the crucial link to who the h.e.l.l in the States had sold them out overseas.

And more importantly, how.

J.T. tamped down the twitch of conscience over keeping it from her. After all, he'd had twenty-two years' practice. "I'll be asleep during the day, so you don't have to worry about me being underfoot. But I'll still be on call for whatever you need. Simple. Reasonable."

"I'll manage just fine."

"How do you plan to take care of yourself while Chris is in school? Nikki's exams start next week, so she can't help."

J.T. searched for signs of Rena weakening but she was too preoccupied playing with her hair and driving him crazy. Low-blow time. "You need to be careful for the baby."

Rena sagged back into her pillow. He'd won. "G.o.d, J.T., you don't fight back often, but when you do, you sure fight dirty."

"I save it for the battles worth winning." His victory felt hollow as he inventoried the worry, fears, in his proud wife's gaze.

"Fine." Her hands fell back to her lap, a lone curl sneaking free to bob against her chin. "Whatever.

You're right and you know it. Thank you for the help."

Where had her fight gone? Seeing Rena deflated, defeated, worried him more than the purpling bruise on

her forehead. But he couldn't afford to back down, as dangerous as pressing ahead too hard and fast.

"I'll take some stuff back over to the house in the morning."

"Why not now?"

"Because I'm staying here."

Starch inched back up her spine. "But Chris-"

"Bo's staying over." He dropped into the chair beside her bed. "I'm not budging on this one."

Fire heated her brown eyes and J.T. rushed to forestall her argument. "You owe me right now for not telling me about the baby sooner." A truth that seared his gut. Canting forward, elbows on the edge of her mattress, he continued, "Now go to sleep and I'll read my book. It's not like I haven't watched you sleep before."

Her breath caressed his face.

Her face only inches away.

The familiar scent of her favorite peppermint mouthwash and flowery perfume washed through his senses

along with images of sharing a bed. And somehow it didn't matter that they were in a hospital, or that

divorce papers had already been drawn up.

He wanted her. She wanted him. With an inevitable intensity that had almost incinerated them both three mouths ago.

Tears sheened her brown eyes. From hormones? Or another reason?

Something cracked inside him and he didn't want to examine the fissure too closely to see what lay beneath. But he couldn't stop the urge to take her in his arms, not for pa.s.sion, just to hold her- She flinched away.

And he hadn't even moved yet. Apparently she'd read his intent in his eyes and didn't want his comfort.

Fine. Okay. No surprise. His hands fisted against the mattress.

She blinked away moist emotions. "Just so we're clear. It's two weeks. And during that time you won't be watching me sleep,"

"Roger." He read her loud and clear. Not that he'd expected to park his boots under her bed-yet-but

it still smacked being reminded of the fact. Emphatically.

Leaning back in the hospital chair, he fished his book from his pocket, the weight of her eyes on him a heavy reminder of all their unfinished business.

He resisted the urge to look back up, which would only instigate a conversation he sure as h.e.l.l didn't want. Strategy. Too much was at stake here with only fourteen days to persuade her to give things another try. Again. He'd soothed her temper in less than that often enough before. Problem was, the determined glint returning to her eyes made it totally clear.

He wouldn't be able to get naked with Rena to win her over this time.

Chapter 4.

Two weeks alone with J.T.? Gulp. Surely, given all that was at stake now, she could hold strong against the temptation to ditch her clothes every time those long legs of his lumbered into the room.

Still, the upcoming fourteen days of intimacy scrolled through Rena's mind as endlessly as the winding roads through her tree-packed subdivision on her way home from the hospital. Brick and wooden tract houses whipped past her pa.s.senger window, a much safer view than staring at her hot husband driving. Even peripheral glimpses of him rocked her thoughts like hanging ferns at the mercy of a Charleston tropical storm.

Nope. She wasn't looking at him. Just staring at his reflection in the pa.s.senger window.

J.T.'s window open, gusts puffed inside to flap his unb.u.t.toned, loose Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt over a white T-s.h.i.+rt. Unlike Chris's baggy style, J.T. kept his T-s.h.i.+rt tucked into his khaki shorts, neatly leaving his trim waist and flat abs right there for her to admire even in profile reflection.

She pulled her gaze away, down, found no relief there, either. Thickly muscled legs worked the clutch, brake, gas-shorts putting plenty of tanned skin on display. Her fingers curled at the memory of exploring the bulging cut of tendons, the masculine texture of bristly hair.

Rounding a corner slowly, careful as he cruised past an overgrown magnolia, J.T. draped his wrist over the old Ford's steering wheel, a truck he'd rebuilt himself as he'd done with their fixer-upper home. This talented man could repair anything through sheer determination, ingenuity and sweat equity.

If only relations.h.i.+ps were as easy to maintain.

Their two-story white wood house eased into view. Vehicles packed their driveway-her sedan, Julia Dawson's minivan, Bo's Jeep, Nikki's compact car. Welcome buffers against the tension so she would spend less time alone with J.T.

Good, right?

And how could she not be touched by Nikki's visit? Her eldest had come home to check on her. So sweet, her easygoing daughter with an oversize heart. The breakup had hurt her most, even though she showed it least. "Nikki's here?"

J.T. eased off the gas pedal, cruising to a stop on the narrow street. "She drove in this morning for the day. She's heading out after supper for an all-night study session. I didn't have a chance to tell you with all the out-processing at the hospital. You ready to go in?"