All the Right Moves(43)

She petted his chest. “Didn’t you want to explain bartending is temporary, and I’m a grad student?”

“No.” He looked puzzled. “Why would I?”

“So they know I don’t plan to work behind a bar the rest of my life.”

“Why would you care what they think?”

“Not me. You.”

John frowned at her, then rolled back to glance at the clock. “I work with those guys. That’s it. I don’t owe them anything.” He faced her again with a smile. “Now, making the best use of our time? That concerns me.” He brushed the hair off her cheek. “I figure you’ll be throwing me out soon.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Then we better get busy.”

Of all things, Gwen’s words popped into Cassie’s head. Her insistence that Cassie wasn’t wife material. Why would he care what anyone thought when he was only looking for a good time during his leave?

John slid down to kiss her breasts, then just below her rib cage. By the time he got to the top of her thighs, she’d lost her train of thought.





11



AT TWO-THIRTY in the afternoon, John started a pot of coffee before he talked himself into going back to bed. He’d had too little sleep, and his room was dark and cool thanks to good blackout shades. Poor Cassie was just as sleep-deprived and had no choice but to study, and then had to show up at the bar in an hour.

It reminded him too much of what it was like for him all during his pilot training. The never-ending cycle of work and schoolwork, and the irrational belief that sleep was for the weak.

He’d left her place around eight, and thought about her the whole way back to his condo. He was really glad that he’d asked her to go to the party, even if his timing was nothing short of rude. She’d been an ace in what could have been an uncomfortable situation. She’d known it, too. Her asking him about the bartending bit told him she truly did understand air force officer culture.

Was that why he’d brought her? To show her off, or worse, as some kind of rebellious statement? It didn’t feel as if he’d used her, but he hadn’t been himself lately, and he didn’t know what that was about, either.

He grabbed his phone from the charger, carried it with him to the living room and sprawled out on the couch while he checked for messages. Much as he didn’t expect to hear from her, he was kind of hoping he would. But no, nothing from Cassie. He did have two voice mails, one of them from Mike.

Shit.

Moony rarely called him, which meant he probably wanted to talk about last night. Though everything had seemed cool between them after Cassie walked off with Gwen. And surely Moony didn’t blame him for his wife’s inappropriate behavior. John hadn’t asked her to touch him, and he’d made it clear it was unwelcome.

A whiff of the brewing Columbian drew him back to the kitchen. He filled a mug before he punched in Mike’s number, prepared to leave a message since Mike was at work. Luckily, he answered.

“Hey...what’s up?”

“I’d wanted to talk to you last night but you left too soon.” Mike had to be near the hangar. The fading noise from a Raptor engine drowned out half his voice. “Wait a second...I’m on the move.”

John listened to the familiar background sounds, trying to decide if he missed being on the base. There was an odd comfort in hearing a fighter take off and land. But he had to admit, he was enjoying his leave. Primarily because of Cassie.

“I just came off a three-hour debriefing that should’ve taken two,” Mike said when it was quieter. “Goddamn Sanford’s got a stick up his ass today.”

“He always does.” Bullshit debriefings John definitely didn’t miss. “So you flew this morning.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t scheduled to. Good thing Gwen and I left shortly after you and—is it Cassie or Cassidy?”

“Cassie.” He wondered if Mike’s wife had told him about Cassie’s using-him-for-sex comment. Well, yeah, of course she had. John smiled.

“She seems like a real spitfire.”

“Oh, she is.”

“Gwen really liked her. She was hoping we could all get together for dinner.”

Christ. Was that why he’d called? John squeezed the bridge of his nose. “That would be hard. She works nights.”

“No problem if you can’t. I told Gwen I’d mention it.” Mike paused. “By the way, she had one too many margaritas. She didn’t mean anything.”