Night Maneuvers

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“Well, what do you think?” he asked, his gaze finding hers in the reflection.

He looked more handsome than a man had a right to in his dress uniform. She shrugged. “You clean up good.” She made herself smile. “Hey, McCabe?”

“Yeah?” He grabbed his black leather belt and scabbard and buckled it around his waist.

“You know, there’s no shame in changing your mind. Better now than after, right?”

He stopped fiddling with the buckle and gaped at her. “You’ve never liked Luanne.”

“I don’t even know Luanne.” Alex swallowed, but soldiered on. “It’s just so permanent. And you’re both so young.”

“Hughes. When you’re in love, you just know when it’s right. And this is right.” He took her by the shoulders. “Luanne and I want the same things. Kids, a home, family.”

Right. All those things she’d rashly told him she didn’t want years ago.

But geez, Mitch was both blind and deaf when it came to Luanne. Alex doubted the girl had thought about much past the hearts and flowers and romance. She’d insisted on a huge wedding with all the bells and whistles. The cake, the flowers, the dress. And of course her parents provided it all, except the traditional rehearsal dinner last night. Which Mitch couldn’t really afford. But he’d paid for her entire family, even distant relatives, to dine at the exclusive Penrose Room at the Broadmoor. Mitch was so hopelessly in love he wanted Luanne to have everything she wanted.

And that was what bothered Alex the most. This girl was a year younger than Mitch—only twenty-one, and she’d obviously, in Alex’s admittedly biased opinion, been spoiled. Whatever she wanted, she got. Or else.

Mitch let go of her shoulders and picked up his saber. “Hughes, I think I know what’s really going on here.”

Alex drew in a deep breath. “You do?”

Did he know? She thought she’d hidden her feelings so well. All through the Academy, she’d tried to convince herself it was just infatuation. Besides, she wanted a career and her independence.

Mitch nodded. “You’re afraid this is going to change our friendship. But it won’t. Luanne understands we’re just buddies.”

Friendship. She let out her breath. Right.

He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “And she knows guys need a night every once in a while to go out with their buddies for a beer and a game of pool.”

Alex tried to smile and Mitch let her go to turn to the mirror and slide his saber into the scabbard. “Well, this is it.” His eyes met hers in the mirror again. “I need you to be cool with this, Hughes.”

She watched him in the reflection for a moment. His eyes shining with happiness and excitement. His heart so full of love and hope. Who was she to assume it wouldn’t work out? Maybe Luanne was exactly what he needed in his life. And, above all, Alex wanted Mitch to be happy. He was one of the good guys. He deserved it.

So, she shoved down the malignant mass of churned-up emotions that threatened to ruin her best friend’s most special day. If this was what Mitch wanted, this was what Mitch was going to have.

“Don’t worry, Memphis.” She clamped her hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got your back.”

Near Randolph Air Force Base, San Antonio, TX, February 2004

ALEX WOKE UP instantly to her cell phone playing Walking in Memphis. “Hughes,” she answered.

“Hey, Hughes, my wingman, come play some pool with me.”

“McCabe?” He sounded drunk, but that wasn’t like McCabe. Alex sat up and checked the time. “It’s after midnight. We have flight training at 0600.”

She heard him curse and what sounded like him fumbling his phone, then he said, “I forgot about training tomorrow.”

“You…forgot?” How the hell did McCabe forget flight training? That’d be like Bush saying he forgot he was president.

“Shit, Hughes. You better come get me. I think I’m drunk.”

“Ya think?” She was already pulling on her jeans. “Tell me where you are.”

She was dressed and out the door in less than five minutes and found the pool hall off the interstate without too much trouble.

McCabe was sitting outside on the curb, his elbows on his knees, his head hanging down. It was cold and drizzly out, and he was getting wet. When she pulled into a parking space he looked up and Alex caught her breath.

She’d never seen such devastation in her friend’s eyes. Even as he gave her a small smile. “Hey, Hughes.” He stood and swayed on his feet and she raced over to catch him under his arm.

“Hey, buddy.” She helped him walk to her truck.

His blond hair was disheveled and his desert camos were rumpled, but he still smelled of that expensive sandalwood cologne he always wore, and it pulled at her senses. She realized she’d been avoiding any close contact with him the last six months—since the wedding.

Contrary to Mitch’s assurances before the wedding, Luanne didn’t understand. In fact, Alex was fairly certain Luanne didn’t like her at all.

“Thanks for coming.” He slammed his door and she went around to the driver’s side.

“No problem.” He’d already put on his seat belt and she snapped hers on before shifting out of Park.

They were halfway back to base before he said anything. She sure as hell wasn’t going to ask questions. “Think I could crash at your place tonight?” He squeezed his eyes closed while he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sure thing.” He must’ve had another fight with Luanne. But this one had to have been worse than usual.

Alex had gone out of her way to give the newlyweds space. To be on her best behavior. But McCabe’s wife seemed to complain about everything. From what little he’d said, it sounded as if she spent most of her days either shopping for stuff they couldn’t afford or complaining there was nothing to do.

Once they were at Alex’s apartment she gathered up a spare pillow, blanket and sheets while McCabe hit the john. She was making up a bed on the couch when he came out.

She looked up from tucking a corner under the cushion and desire slammed into her like a tidal wave.

McCabe—Mitch had stripped down to his skivvies and undershirt. Black boxer-briefs had no business being on such a hard-muscled body. The combination was just too intoxicating.

Stop it, Alex, the man is upset. She tore her gaze away from his—whatever—and finished tucking the sheet.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He gestured at the made-up sofa.