Night Maneuvers

chapter 11

SITUATION REPORT—DAY TWENTY-NINE: amazed.

The daily Sit-Rep a habit now, Mitch paused in the act of shaving on Sunday afternoon and stared at himself in Alex’s bathroom mirror. How could the face in the mirror look the same as it always did when the man inside was a stranger?

Mitch McCabe never spent the night at a woman’s house. Wasn’t that the point of going to her place instead of his? So he could get up and leave whenever he wanted. No mushy snuggling. No weird mornings after. No false promises to call. No messy entanglements. Those were the rules, right?

But he hadn’t given any of that one damn thought all weekend. He didn’t want to get up and leave. He liked lying in Alex’s arms after sex. And he liked waking up with her. All these years he’d been missing out on what was now his new favorite thing: morning sex.

This morning he’d woken up sore as hell from all that yard work—okay, he may have exaggerated his pain slightly—and Alex had reached into her bedside table drawer for a tube of lotion.

“Roll over on your stomach,” she’d ordered, and he’d obeyed willingly enough.

She’d straddled his butt, squeezed some lotion into her palms and then kneaded his shoulders and the back of his neck with the perfect blend of strength and gentleness.

“Where’d you learn to give such a great massage?”

She’d paused. “You don’t want to know.”

He’d had a massage from Lily before. That’s how he’d met her. Had some guy taught Alex? The image of Alex lying nude while some guy put his hands all over her had made him bristle with irritation. “Was it that SEAL?”

“Settle down, Casanova,” she’d said as she swatted his butt. “Every cowgirl learns to give her horse a good rubdown after a hard ride.” She’d bent down and sprinkled tiny kisses down his spine.

Of course that had led to his complaint that he hadn’t been ridden hard yet. And Alex had obliged. And then there was the showering together after…

Oh, yeah. Mitch smiled as he resumed his shave. He could get used to this friends-with-benefits lifestyle.

There were only a few hours left before Alex would have to leave for work. He frowned at his reflection in the mirror. She was on night maneuvers for another few weeks, so it’d be a while before—

“What are you doing, shaving every hair individually?” Alex appeared in the bathroom doorway. “My grandmother could get ready faster than you.” She leaned a shoulder on the door frame and crossed her arms, one corner of her mouth lifted in an indulgent smile.

Mitch returned her smile in the mirror as he wiped his jaw with a wet cloth. “This kind of perfection doesn’t happen all by itself, you know.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed off the frame. “We’ll be sitting in a dark theater, Casanova. And speaking of which—” she pulled her cell phone off her belt clip “—we’re going to be late if we don’t leave right now.”

He winced at the moniker he’d been given years ago. Until recently it hadn’t bothered him, he’d kind of liked it. But lately he didn’t, especially coming from Alex. Although he could hear the ribbing he’d get if he told her that. “Just need to throw on a shirt.” Before brushing past her to head to the closet, he stopped, caught her in his arms and kissed her behind her ear. “Or we could skip the movie and go back to bed.”

Her hands came up, flattened on his chest and pushed him. “I may not be able to walk afterward if we do.”

Nodding, he dropped his arms from around her and went to her closet where his shirt hung. As he reached for it, he saw his uniform suit coat and slacks hanging beside it, and the cargo shorts and shirt he’d worn yesterday stuffed in her dirty clothes hamper. It felt so…domestic. Like when he’d been married.

He shoved his arms into the sleeves and started buttoning the freshly dry-cleaned shirt, remembering how he’d liked sharing a bedroom with a woman. Having her things around, mixed with his. Liked the feeling of lives joined, of a shared future. Then he thought about returning to his empty apartment tonight after Alex went to work. Alone.

“Hey, we don’t have to go.” Alex’s hands slid around his waist from behind.

“No.” He turned and hugged her. “It’ll be fun to get out. We’ll grab something to eat after.”

The movie was an action-packed shoot ’em up— Alex’s choice—and Mitch discovered she took on violent tendencies while watching that kind of movie. He tried to hold her hand, but she wasn’t going for any of that sappy stuff. She kept gripping his forearm and digging her nails in, and worse, she was a popcorn-hogger.

And he loved it. It was so…Hughes. All he could do was grin, and then take her out for a burger and sit back and watch as she built herself a Dagwood with plenty of mustard and onion rings, and he didn’t even want to know what all she had inside that bun.

“Want a bite?” She offered the monstrosity across the table to him.

“Uh, no. Thanks.” He leaned back, hands up as if to ward off evil.

“Wimp.” She shook her head and pursed her lips just before she dug in.

“I think the only professional personnel equipped to handle that thing is HAZMAT.”

“Ha-ha.” She chewed and swallowed. “Neil used to say I had a cast-iron stomach.”

“Who’s Neil?” Probably one of her brothers. He made a mental note to ask about her family’s names.

“The guy I was dating in D.C.”

Mitch froze with his fajita halfway to his mouth. “You’re kidding, right? Neil, the SEAL?” He threw an arm across the back of the booth and hooted.

“Hey, don’t laugh. He’s a decorated hero.”

“That may be, but the poor guy should’ve chosen a different branch of the military.” He snickered. “Or changed his name.”

Alex glared at him, but he could tell she was trying not to smile. She finally broke and chuckled. “I shouldn’t laugh, he’s a sweet guy.”

Mitch didn’t like the way her expression went all soft when she talked about him. “What’d he get a medal for?”

“Remember a few years back when those pirates captured that freighter ship off the coast of Yemen?” He grunted.

“And the president ordered those sharpshooter SEALs to take them out?”

“And Neil-the-SEAL made the shot?” Great. His rival was a freakin’ hero. “He must get lots of tail off that story.”

“As a matter of fact, the only way I found out was through his friend. Neil doesn’t talk about it.”

Fantastic. A modest, sweet hero. “It’s a wonder you didn’t marry Mr. Perfect right then and there.”

“I know. His father is a United States senator. His mother is on the boards of several charitable foundations. So what the heck am I doing here with you?” Her eyes widened in mock exasperation and she smirked just before she took another huge bite of her hamburger.

She was trying to laugh this off, but Mitch couldn’t help but wonder, seriously, what was she doing here with him? His stomach cramped up. Another freakin’ senator’s son?

He hated that he’d told Alex about his background. She hadn’t judged him at the time, but compared to a guy with such a distinguished family? And besides, she didn’t know all the details.

He’d never forget the look in Luanne’s eyes after he’d told her about the horror of his childhood, certain that she wouldn’t judge him. And then seeing the disgust mixed with pity whenever she looked at him after that.

“Mitch,” Alex recalled his attention back to the here and now. “You know I was just kidding, right? If I wanted to be with Neil, I would be.”

He lifted a shoulder, shrugged it off. “Hell, yeah. Just think, I might have had to call you Mrs. Neil-the-SEAL.”

She put a pickle on the edge of a fork and catapulted the thing across the table at him.

He ducked and it missed. “Starting a food fight, Hughes? I can’t take you anywhere.”

Too soon he was kissing her goodbye as she stood at the door of her house in her pressed uniform and leather briefcase ready for the base.

“Is that rookie still bothering you?” Mitch frowned. Just what he needed. More competition in the form of a younger, cockier him.

“Who, Davis?” She pressed her lips to Mitch’s neck and spread kisses up to his jaw as she spoke. “Didn’t I tell you? He’s got himself a girlfriend.”

“Good.” Mitch wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or worried about the poor guy. “I’d hate to have to beat him up.”

She drew away and shook her head. “I’ve told you before I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got your back, Hughes.”

“Not on base. We don’t want to give our commanders any more reasons to suspect we’re seeing each other.”

On that they agreed. “Absolutely.”

“So,” she said. “Will you be here in the morning?” Her hands were running over his chest and up his arms, making it hard to concentrate on her words.

Monday morning. The start of the normal workweek. The return to everyday life. “Uh, yeah, maybe.” He nodded, not sure why he was hedging. But maybe they shouldn’t get too comfortable. Take things for granted.

“Oh-kay? Call me, then, so I’ll know whether to go on to sleep.”

“You bet.” He gave her a quick kiss.

She hesitated, searching his eyes, and then she was gone. Her car disappearing in the distance.

Mitch, confused, walked to his Jeep. What the hell had just happened here? He only knew their parting had been awkward. And as much as he’d hated that, he couldn’t think what to do about it.

Later, Mitch rolled over, opened a bleary eye and cursed. He’d overslept. Jumping out of bed, he threw on his uniform and raced to his office, ducking in twenty minutes after eight.

As he grabbed his clipboard off his desk he realized Alex was probably already asleep. Not that he had a spare minute to pick up the phone. He jogged down several corridors to his classroom and barely made it ahead of his students. Ah, well, he’d stop by her house tonight.

What was that old adage about the best-laid plans? By five he was still working on reports he’d neglected for weeks and when he finally glanced at the clock it was after seven-thirty.

Grabbing his jacket and keys, he headed for his Jeep. Alex might already be on base—he stopped in his tracks—but, for now it’d be better for their careers if they kept their distance at work. Neither of their commanders would approve of them hooking up. Even though they were technically on different squadrons, they still flew together sometimes.

And a call right now would only disrupt her class. She’d probably be in the air most of the night anyway.

At home, he sat mindlessly in front of the television all evening, fell asleep on the couch and was late waking up the next morning, also. By the time he thought to call Alex, his reasons for not contacting her the day before didn’t seem quite as legitimate, and he had no idea what he’d say, so he put it off.

Tuesday night he fell asleep thinking he probably should call her tomorrow…



WHEN MITCH DIDN’T show up or call Monday morning, Alex went on to sleep, figuring she’d hear from him that evening before she left for work. When he still hadn’t called Tuesday evening, she couldn’t decide whether to cry or kill him.

She’d never been a crier.

Wednesday morning she drove straight from work to Mitch’s apartment, noting the spectacularly gorgeous sunrise. Purple and pink clouds outlined in sparkling golden light streaked across the lavender sky. Funny how the earth could produce such beauty when her world was a steaming pile of…thunderclouds.

Without making time to second-guess her actions, she parked in front of his place, marched up to his door and rang the bell. After a few seconds without an answer, she rang it again and then pounded on the door. It was still another few seconds before the door opened.

Wearing wrinkled shorts and a shirt, Mitch squinted at her, his hair rumpled. He was scratching his jaw and she drew her fist back and sucker punched him right in the gut.

With a grunt he doubled over grabbing his stomach.

Ah, watching him gasp for air and seeing the look of shock on his face gave her immense satisfaction. Her chin upturned, she marched off.

“Alex, what the hell?” He squeaked out the words.

Oh, like he had no idea why she’d be so furious? She kept going. Then she heard a horrible sound and glanced behind her.

Still clutching his stomach, Mitch had dropped to his knees and was throwing up into the bushes beside his door.

Closing her eyes, she hesitated. But no. She refused to feel guilty. Hardening her heart, she continued to her car.

Just as she was starting the ignition, Mitch reached in and grabbed her hand. “Alex, wait a goddamn minute!”

She yanked her hand out of his grasp, but he got hold of her keys and was headed back to his apartment.

Her fury ramped up again and she jumped out and chased after him. “McCabe, you give those back to me!”

She tried to snatch her keys, but he held them out of her reach. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

She grabbed his arm and tried to wrestle them away from him.

“Jeez, Hughes, you ever consider an anger man agement class? Ow! Stop kicking. Now, settle down.”

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t wrestle her keys from his grasp, which infuriated her even more. “Don’t make me really hurt you, you knuckle-dragging ape.”

As she yelled, Mitch cast a few furtive glances around the apartment complex. “Come inside before someone calls the cops.” He took her arm, but she jerked it away.

“Forget it!”

“Oh for the love of—” He took her keys, stuffed them down the front of his shorts and retreated inside his apartment.

Breathing hard, fists at her sides, she followed him in and slammed the door. Her insides churned with impotent frustration and humiliation. “You think sticking them down your underwear will stop me?”

Muttering a string of curses, he trudged into the kitchen and she heard the water running a moment before he reappeared wiping his mouth with a towel. Falling onto the sofa, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Why had she come here? She’d known it wouldn’t last. She’d known that once she was intimate with him she’d become just another conquest to him. She shook her head. “You know, the least you could’ve done was have the balls to tell me it’s over to my face.”

He lifted his head and pierced her with a puzzled expression. “What?”

“I am not one of your bimbo, booty call, notch-on-your-joystick nobodies that you can sleep with and then ignore and move on. Now give me my keys.” She held out her hand.

He reached in and got them out, then extended them to her. “Can I explain?”

Her fury dissipated into a profound sadness. “I don’t think there’s anything left to say.”

He dropped the keys to his side and his head onto the back of the couch again. “Jeez, that punch hurt.”

Guilt stabbed at Alex but not enough to ask if he was okay. The best she could manage was to stand and wait for him to explain. She folded her arms and tapped her foot repeatedly. “Anytime before Christmas, Casanova.”

Avoiding her gaze, he sat up and dropped his elbows onto his knees. “I’ve never been here before, Alex.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know. It’s strange.” He grimaced. “I mean, it’s not bad strange—but because we’re best friends, I keep thinking maybe this isn’t good.”

Stunned, she could barely speak. “What does that mean?”

He finally looked at her. “You can do better than me. You got a hero SEAL, a senator’s son after you. I can’t compete with that.”

“I didn’t realize this was a competition.”

“Let’s be honest, Hughes. If you were still stationed at Langley, we both know you’d be with ol’ Neil.”

Alex snorted. “Shows what you know. You think I could ever bring the guy home? I can hear it now, every freakin’ Christmas my brothers would surround me in the kitchen, ‘So, Alex, how the hell is Neil-the-SEAL? When are y’all gonna have a litter of spotted pups?’”

Mitch chuckled. She caught just a flash of those adorable dimples before he grabbed his stomach and winced in pain. “Ow, it hurts to laugh.”

“Serves you right.” But the anger was gone from her words. She shook her head. “I told you Sunday night. If I wanted to be with Neil, I would be. Don’t you know me well enough by now to know I do what I want?”

His expression cleared as if he’d just figured out some quantum equation. “Yeah.” He nodded. “You do, don’t you?”

She heaved a big exasperated sigh. “Honestly, Mitch. What am I going to do with you?”

He stood. “Whatever you do, avoid my midsection. I have to get to the base.”

“Don’t you think you ought to see the doctor?”

“Nah.” Closing the distance between them, he ran his knuckles down her cheek. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are.” Now that her anger had dissipated, the adrenaline left her shaking. Determined to get out of here before he saw her hands trembling, she snatched her keys off the sofa and headed for the door. Moving fast, he caught her by the shoulders.

Slowly, he lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips across hers. “Can I come over after work tonight?”

Alex’s heart squeezed. She wanted to howl her frustration to the world. Being with him was nothing short of emotional suicide. And despite her recent decisions, she didn’t have a death wish. No. She’d tell him no and rip off the bandage all at once. “Okay.”

He grinned and took her mouth in a deep possessive kiss.

Okay? She was pathetic. She shouldn’t be letting him kiss her.

“I have some time before I have to be at work,” he mumbled as his lips trailed down her jaw to her neck. His hand crept under her shirt and cupped her breast and his hot palm kneading her flesh drove all rational thought away. His other hand cupped her butt and lifted her, walking to his sofa. And she didn’t fight him.

So, she was officially an addict, avoiding reality. Craving one more hit, one more day of Mitch. Like a drug she never should’ve tried in the first place. He made her weak. He made her lose all sense of reason. But she was hooked.

Was there such a thing as a Mitch McCabe rehab?