Explosive Alliance

A quick laugh jerked her shoulders. She steadied her glasses. "I love how you don't let me stay blue for long."



Love?



His neck kinked, not that she meant anything by the word.



He forged ahead with laid-back in spite of the tempting heat of her thigh burning through her jeans and his. "Who'd have believed a woman would get turned on by a bargain shopper? To think I've been wasting precious bucks on flowers and candy all these years."



"Hey, personally, I'd rather have the lightbulbs changed, since I'm so short. I'll pick out my own flowers if I want them."



They shared an easy laugh in the middle of a tough-as-hell day. He wanted her—here, now, no more waiting, but they had a wedding to attend and damned if he would rush his first time with Paige.



First? Would there be more?



He thrust aside questions guaranteed to kick them both in the teeth and just let himself stroke from her temple to her satiny cheek. She turned her face to press a kiss into his palm, which shot a bolt right to his groin.



"Oh, God, Paige," he groaned. "You're not making this easy. The wedding's in an hour and it's at least a half hour drive."



"That leaves a half hour." She nuzzled his hand again, flicking her tongue along the suddenly hypersensitive pad of his thumb.



The way he felt right now, five minutes would be long enough. But she deserved more than a rushed quickie. He could and would control himself.



He pulled his hand away with regret. "I want to take my time with you. No rushing. No interruptions."



For some reason his words, which others might have taken as a rejection, coaxed a smile and melting sigh from Paige. Already his imagination wrapped fantasies around stirring more sighs from her, louder, fuller, and holy crap if he didn't quit they would both be n**ed in seconds.



"Come on, lady. We need to haul butt if we're going to make the wedding before the bride walks down the aisle." He rose from the bench and started down the short hall.



"Luckily I have two bathrooms. As much as I'd like to shower with you, I think we'd better opt for separates or we'll never get there at all."



He turned to find Paige still on the bench.



"You go ahead." She tapped her glasses. "I'll just use the quiet time to call my daughter and then soak in a bubble bath."



Bubble bath. Was she trying to make him crazy?



A quick hiccup in his horny thoughts gave him a clear second to see... Paige adjusted her glasses again, a sure sign that she was nervous or, worse yet, scared. Of him or lingering emotions from the purse-snatcher?



Either way, she was staying with him. "We're not so pushed for time you can't bathe, and you can call Kirstie on my cell phone during the drive over. Besides, I don't keep bubble bath on hand."



"I brought some."



She'd planned ahead enough to bring bubble bath to his place? He couldn't breathe, much less answer.



"Really, go ahead to the wedding without me. I don't even know these friends of yours."



Air. Yeah. Okay, he could talk now. "They said I could bring a date."



Date.



Now she looked as if the air had left her side of the house, as well. "Thanks, but I wouldn't be comfortable, given what Kurt did." She rubbed along the scrape on her arm from the purse-snatcher's yank. "You're sweet to offer, and I will most definitely be waiting up for you."



Waiting up? Now didn't that distract him from plans for the wedding? Probably exactly what she'd intended. He strode forward, careful to keep his steps slow and unthreatening.



He stopped in front of her and tipped her chin. "What he did. You didn't do anything."



"That's exactly right. I didn't do anything. I'm having to come to peace with the fact that I didn't figure it out and stop him sooner."



He let her words rattle around in his head for a minute until he determined there wasn't a thing he could say to reassure her. Any talk would just lead to more depressing conversation, and hadn't she said often enough she wanted more smiles? Fair enough.



He could deliver.



Bo tapped her nose. "Chicken."



"What?"



"You heard me. You're a big chicken."



Uh-oh. No smile. She steamed, even stomped her foot as she stood—and looked damn cute doing it. "I'm thinking of your friends and not ruining a special day."



"They're good folks. You won't ruin a thing."



She folded her arms over her chest in a last-ditch huff. "I don't have anything to wear. I just brought shorts and a khaki skirt, and that's not nearly formal enough for a wedding."



"Naked sounds good to me, well, except I wouldn't want all those crewdog pals of mine drooling over your fabulous rack."



She blinked twice, fast, startled, then snorted on a laugh. "I'll never understand how you manage to make piggish comments sound funny and complimentary all at once."



"It's a rare gift I have." He winked.



She rolled her eyes. "You're so full of it."



"That I am." A screw-up bad boy to the end. He'd heard it since childhood. "Darcy and Max aren't formal. Their wedding's going to be laid-back, and I do mean seriously laid-back. They specifically stated, beach wear and a smile when they called a week ago.



Definitely no gold-embossed invitations for the two of them."



"How romantically impulsive."



"Actually, they've been engaged for nearly two years."



"Wow, that's a long time to wait."



Darcy had wanted Max to be sure since he'd been engaged before and the woman was murdered. Darcy's dangerous job as a military pilot didn't offer safe guarantees of a stress-free happily ever after.



How damn strange that it was Max who'd nearly died when the OSI agent had been undercover with them on the mission in Rubistan. Max had been a major player in investigating who on the base was leaking information to Kurt Haugen.



The reunion after they were released had been an odd mix of rejoicing and tense emotions. For once, he'd been glad he didn't have a family to meet him when he'd stepped off the plane. Well, actually, he'd been carried off the C-17 on a litter because he was too drugged up on painkillers to walk.



Maybe he was wrong to take Paige to the wedding....



Nah. He trusted his friends to welcome her if she came with him.



He slid his hands down her arms and let them rest on her hips, increasing the intimacy of their touching boundaries to date. Early foreplay that tormented him, sure, but the payoff would be big. "Come with me, please."



She swayed forward, just enough for their h*ps to meet, and no way would she miss how much he wanted her.



He stepped back. "Quit trying to sidetrack me, and yeah, I noticed that's what you're doing. I have a tropical shirt you can borrow. All you need is a pair of shorts since it's going to be an oceanside ceremony." He let his eyes speak for him instead of his hands. "I would really like you to be there with me tonight."



"Because you're worried about me?" she asked with unerring insight.



"I have to admit leaving you alone doesn't sit well with me right now." Since he was being truthful, might as well go for broke. Somehow he sensed this woman would find honesty as tempting as any foreplay. "But more than that, I just want to be with you.



Time's running out for us, lady."



Chapter 11



Time passed for Paige in a haze of wedding vows, seaside winds and Bo's beautiful music. She hadn't realized until he pulled his guitar from the back of the dusty Jeep that he would be providing the music for the ceremony, a sentimental gift from him to the couple.



And he'd been thoughtful enough to ensure she didn't feel abandoned in the crowd by parking her with a friend of his— instructing that friend not to walk away even if Prickly Paige insisted she was fine. Which of course she would have done.



So now Paige sat beside his friend Nikki Price, a recent college graduate and daughter of one of the crewdogs. They shared a minipack of Kleenex as the bride and groom exchanged pledges of love with waves crashing against the shore. Sunset cast shadows and tequila hues across the sand while tiki torches flickered in the salty breeze, encircling the crowd of about a hundred. How could she not think of her own candlelight wedding?



Not to mention her garbled emotions when it came to the new man in her life.



Focus on the moment, doggone it.



The spiky-haired groom sported a tropical shirt and baggy khakis, his long pants the only difference from his shorts-clad friends standing witness in floral shirts of their own. The bride wore a gauzy yellow sundress and no shoes, a beam of casual sunshine in the midst of all the crazy colors.



Snagging another tissue, Paige dabbed more sentimental tears over the love radiating from the two people standing under a floral bower. Even with the beach setting, they hadn't spared expense just because they'd opted for less formal. Sprays of tropical flowers and a spread of food large enough to feed an army waited on the sandy beach beside bowing sea oats. The unconventional ceremony spoke of their personalities and commitment.



A couple of years ago she wouldn't have recognized that, too caught up in appearances and the protocol of engraved invitations to appreciate the importance of the sentiment behind it all. No wonder she hadn't fully recognized her husband's shallow veneer.



And didn't that make her appreciate Bo's surprise frugality and thoughtfulness all the more? She was still working to reconcile her shifting image of him after seeing his house that held his "toys," but bought without extravagance.



Bo's shirt teased her skin with reminders that he would be touching her later. Even Downy-fresh clean, the fabric still carried his spicy scent. Or was he becoming that familiar to her after such a short time? She needed to keep this uncomplicated. She might be ready for sex again, but no way was her battered heart ready to risk more.



She forced her attention back to the present, Nikki pointing out the wedding party with whispered explanations. Matron of honor—the bride's sister who flew fighter planes in Alaska with her aviator husband. Best man—a longtime friend of the groom who happened to be another pilot in the Charleston squadron, a guy named...huh? Crusty?



Sheesh. What a name. Of course the guy did look like a cute but rumpled mess.



The minister raised his arms. "I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell Keagan." The willowy bride gave the minister a gentle tap on the arm. "Oh, uh, Mr. and Captain Keagan."



Laughter rumbled through the crowd while the groom scooped up his bride for a kiss and Bo launched into the final love song.



Where were those darn Kleenex?



The reception started and still Nikki Price stuck to her like glue while Bo helped the band set up. And wasn't that surreal, hanging out with the loadmaster, Tag's, daughter? One of the people hurt by Kurt, since he'd threatened her younger brother and held her parents hostage along with Bo.



How could these people be so forgiving when she couldn't find it within herself to forgive her husband?



A plate of food in hand, Paige plopped into a chair under a palm tree with Nikki. "You don't have to entertain me."



"It's my pleasure. Really." The leggy young woman leaned, silky black hair swinging with the swish of her head. "Besides, everybody's curious about you, so I'm the official spy for the gang."



"Curious? About me?" A chill tightened her skin. She rested her plate on her knees with a shaky hand.



"We've seen Bo with a lot of women—uh, no offense."



"No need to apologize." The chill turned downright icy. "I pretty much guessed his reputation."



"The thing is, we haven't seen him with a woman in almost a year." Nikki popped a sweet-and-sour meatball into her mouth.



"A year?" Icy nerves melted into something... She didn't know what.