The Right Stuff

“Ma’am, ma’am, you need an escort!” he hollered, but she kept right on going. Rules were for military personnel. Not her.

She zoomed ahead, pulling into Colonel Grayson’s parking space in front of the administration building.

The young sergeant stopped his jeep behind her and came running over to her convertible. His face was flushed and he looked flustered. “Ma’am, this is a military base.”

“I’m aware of that.” She grabbed her purse, got out and gave him a dazzling smile.

“You can’t park here,” he said weakly. “It’s reserved for Colonel Grayson.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind. Where is he, by the way? I’m supposed to have a meeting with him.”

“N-n-no, ma’am,” the poor sergeant stammered.

“No?”

He shook his head and his face paled. Instantly, she felt sorry for him. Poor guy was probably terrified he’d have to pay the price because she didn’t follow the rules. She’d make sure to mention to the colonel that any violations were completely her responsibility. The young man shouldn’t be held accountable for her actions.

“Colonel Grayson’s not on the base this morning, ma’am. You’ve been reassigned to our second-in-command.”

“He’s passing me off?” she said it lightly, but she was irritated. Uncle Chuck had assured her she would have an audience with the base commander.

“I…he’s…”

“I’m the one who’s stuck babysitting the spoiled princess,” growled an arrogant voice from behind her.

Taylor spun around, ready to deliver a tonguelashing to the insolent man who’d interrupted her, but the second she laid eyes on him all the air left her body.

Daniel Corben.

Looking just as disturbed to see her as she was to see him.

3

RECOGNITION knifed Daniel in the chest.

It couldn’t be, but the hell if it wasn’t.

The very woman who’d sledgehammered his heart thirteen years ago which had led to his break-up with Sandy now.

“Daniel,” Taylor said, her voice low, husky. She cleared her throat, slipped off her sunglasses and took him in. He spied the nervousness in her eyes as she inspected the insignias on the collar of his uniform shirt before lifting her defiant chin. “Lieutenant-Colonel Dr. Daniel Corben, I see.”

His heart thumped and his palms slicked as he peered into those familiar brown eyes. Taylor Milton in the flesh and looking far more beautiful than any woman had the right to look.

Twin dots of color pinked her cheeks and he felt a corresponding heat rise inside him. Slowly, he raked his gaze over her, starting with her gorgeous red hair, now stylishly streaked with blond threads. He couldn’t help but lust after her swan-like throat and then the swell of her breasts, before rolling right on down to those long, shapely legs. He remembered exactly what it felt like to have those legs wrapped tightly around him in the throes of passion.

Something ripped loose inside his chest, a tearingaway sensation. God, she was gorgeous. The years had been generous to her. In fact, she’d grown even lovelier with the passing of time. He shook his head, tried to shake off the attraction. But it was useless.

“I should have known,” Daniel said, dragging his gaze back to her face.

“Known?” she echoed, seeming confused.

“You’re the one who wrapped General Miller around your little finger. Bravo, Taylor. You’ve always had a knack for bringing men to their knees.” His tone came out harsher than he had intended.

Her eyes widened as if he’d slapped her, and he immediately felt like a jerk. She moistened her lips, swallowed. “You’re upset with me.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I am.”

She shifted her weight, but held his gaze. “Why?”

“Because you’re intent on making a mockery of the thing I love most.”

Her eyes darkened. “The Air Force.”

“I want you to know I’m adamantly opposed to the reason you’re here.”

“Duly noted,” she said coolly.

As coolly as when she’d told him that their love affair had been nothing more than a fun fling. It had been thirteen years. The memory shouldn’t still sting.

But it did.

“I tried to tell her, sir,” the anxious young staff sergeant was saying, “that she couldn’t just barge in. There’s protocol. This is a military base. But she wouldn’t listen to me. I—”

Daniel held up a hand to silence the kid, who was about the same age Daniel had been when he’d graduated college. Not once did he take his eyes off Taylor. “I’ve got it from here, Staff Sergeant. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” The young man snapped off a salute.

“Impressive.” Taylor lifted an eyebrow. Mocking him?

Daniel narrowed his gaze, his world condensing to her. Just Taylor and no one else. He could no longer see the staff sergeant hustling around to his jeep, although he could hear the young man’s shoes slapping quickly against the asphalt.

She boldly held his stare, but Daniel could see past the bravado in the way she slipped her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the windblown strands. He remembered she had a habit of running her hand through her hair when she was nervous. Nice to see that some things didn’t change.

Her chest moved with each breath of air. Her magnificent breasts strained the buttons of the expensive yellow silk blouse she wore. He thought of her nipples, recalled how sweet they’d tasted. With her sun-streaked red hair, Taylor looked damned delicious in yellow. Like marigolds in a wheat field.

Her fingers dropped from her hair in one long graceful movement and fell to the pocket of her sleek charcoal-gray slacks. Her fingernails, he noted, sported a flawless French manicure.

Daniel wondered, not for the first time, how he’d ever ended up with a woman like her even for a little while. She was pure class from the top of her head to the tips of her pedicured toes peeping from golden high-heeled sandals. She came from money, privilege. He was military all the way. An officer first, a doctor second.

His eyes latched on to her lips. Full, lavish, painted the color of the pink Gerbera daisies he’d given his mom the other day. He held his breath.

Waiting.

What was he waiting for?

Taylor took a thick tortoise-shell hairclip from the gold pocketbook that matched her designer sandals, pulled back several long strands of hair with one hand and anchored them in place with the clip. The remaining hair, not caught up in the barrette, fell in soft, sexy waves about her face.

Her languid movements stirred up her scent, bringing her perfume to him. Honeysuckle. The sweet farm-girl scent was in total opposition to the sleek reality. Urban, hip, on-top-of-the world. Creator of sexual-fantasy resorts.