Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet) (7 page)

Daisy bolted upright. “She got her nickname from something she said while he was
in a coma?”

He sobered and lay his chicken bone down. “Yeah. Because I promised her at the time we’d laugh about it someday. And you know what? We
do, because Bill survived and now he laughs with us.” Brian paused, then quietly said, “You know, Daisy, laughter heals a lot of hurts. You ought to try it sometime.”

How dare he? And yet, Daisy knew he was absolutely right. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the circumstances. I’m glad your friend is okay. And yes, I have to admit, I do like the way you find humor in everything. I’m sorry I jumped down your throat. And despite the fact that you essentially tricked me into going today, I am enjoying this. It’s good to be back in a kayak, back on the water…” and back in a man’s company. “And it’s a lovely day.”

“Well, then let me ask you this. Since you were tricked into kayaking today, may I ask if you’d be interested in going out to dinner tonight, willingly?” He smacked his head and rolled his eyes. “How stupid was I? I should have had Cory put dinner in the contract.”

“Sorry, I’m at the emergency clinic tonight.”

“Geez, Daisy, don’t you ever take time for yourself?
Then what about tomorrow? Come on, I’m leaving town on Monday. Can I spend the day with you tomorrow, without having to trick you?”

“Church.” Daisy gathered up the paper plates and put them in the bag.

“Then after church.”

“We’re building a house. My church group does Habitat for Humanity on Sunday afternoons.”

Brian reached over and laid his hand on hers, stroking her wrist with his thumb. Electricity shot up her arm. She flinched, but did not pull away.

“Daisy, do you ever take time off?”

Now she withdrew her hand and looked away. “Not if I can help it.”

“Well, you know, I can swing a hammer.”

She turned back to him. “What?” Was he talking about volunteering with her again?

“Can I join you after church? You know, help build a house?”

“You?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“You don’t strike me as the type.” Gulls called overhead, inviting their friends to Brian and Daisy’s picnic. She shooed them away.

“Type to what? Do community service? What do you think I’ve been doing all week?”

“Well, that was just to…”

“To what? Get close to you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I gotta admit you’re right. But was I a pain in the butt, or did I actually
serve
the community? Did I help out, or was it all about me?”

“You were wonderful. The kids loved you, and I know you made Captain Duncan’s night on Wednesday.”

“Look, Daisy. I want to spend time with you. And if it means going to the places you go and doing the things you do, then I’m in. I have to admit if you ever do poetry readings or change diapers, I might beg off. But I can hammer as well as the next guy and I happen to have spent an entire summer roofing during high school. So yeah, I know a thing or three about building a house. And I’ll even go to church with you if I’m invited.”

“You? Church?”

“Why does that surprise you so much? I’ve darkened the doorway of a church a few times in my life. And I attended chapel at the Academy, more times than I ditched.” Then he added, “I even stayed awake a couple of times. You make it sound like I’m some kind of heathen or something.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m still judging you on first impressions. I mean, come on. You hit on me the instant we met, you called me belittling
names even after I asked you not to, and you tricked me into going with you today. Quite frankly, I’m still not sure I trust you.”

Brian licked the chicken from his fingers and leaned back on his elbows. He removed his sunglasses and then, looking deeply into her eyes, he said, “Come on, Daisy. Is it me you don’t trust? Or yourself?”

Sky knew he’d hit pay dirt as she continued to stare at him. And he surprised himself by keeping his mouth shut. Sometimes the filter on his brain actually worked. He was going to wait her out as he stared back, like it was a contest. Who would look away first?

Daisy did. She opened her mouth, shut it, and looked away. He grinned broadly, and when she glanced back, he saw her gaze flicker down to his mouth. Years of experience had taught him what she was thinking. That space between his two front teeth was like a magnet. Countless women had gone exploring with their tongues and wasn’t he just the gentleman for letting each woman think she was the first to try.

Oh, yeah. Sky Crawford was nothing if not a gentleman.

He saw it coming even though he could not believe it. As if hypnotized by his mouth, she laid down her chicken and slowly dipped her head. Her eyes slid shut as she came in for a landing, kissing him tenderly. Heat slammed through him, but his brain had already flipped to commando mode, willing his body not to move. He’d let her call the shots. No way was he going to screw this up by consuming her amongst the vegetation, which is what his primal brain was telling him to do.

He’d planned to make the first move but there were no complaints coming from the Skylark. They didn’t call him the king of the skies and the bedroom—and apparently the sand dunes—for nothing.

His hand disobeyed a direct order and began to operate of its own accord. His fingers threaded themselves into her golden mass of hair, something they’d been itching to do for the past four days. The kiss went on. Sweet and gentle. Warm and tender.

Sky called in all reserves to keep himself perfectly still, afraid of scaring her off. His mouth was the only thing moving, besides the blood pounding through his body. And his fingers in her hair, cupping her head, and pulling her infinitesimally closer. His right hand reported that her hair was, indeed, pure silk as he searched for the barrette thingy or whatever had kept him from knowing how long her hair was or how it might feel cascading over his — 

“Why don’t we stop here?” someone called out, his voice reaching through the tall grass, strangling Sky’s chances at who-knew-what. More voices answered, closer by the second.

Sky groaned as Daisy pulled away and laughed nervously. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” She unclipped her hair, coiled it up in her fingers, and re-clipped before he could see it down.

Didn’t matter. Sky was too busy discreetly rolling to his stomach, aroused beyond words, his heart hammering in protest to an incomplete mission.

“Guess you can tell it’s been a while since I’ve…” Daisy started, once again in control of her hair, and herself.

“Gone tandem?” Sky sucked in air, trying to appear calm and cool, despite the rush he’d felt that
she had started things.

“Please.” She began to pack up their lunches. “I truly don’t know what possessed me to do that.
I guess it felt like you issued me a challenge or something.”

“And I’d be glad to issue you another one anytime. But no apologies necessary. It’s okay, sweet—Doc. Does this mean I’m forgiven for the Boys and Girls Club?”

“I suppose. Although that really was a dirty trick.”

“You don’t like feeling out of control, do you?” He realized how much he’d shocked her when he’d asked for this date in front of the kids.

“Who does?”

“Oh, I think there’s a time for control and a time to lose it.” He so wanted to continue that kiss and see where it led. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in finding another island.” It was worth a try.

Daisy shielded her eyes and glanced out over the sea oats to the water. “We’d better head back. I have things to do before I leave for work.”

“Are you sure you have to work tonight? You couldn’t call in sick?”

“Brian, I’m only there at night one weekend a month. And this is my weekend. Sorry.” Aware of his silence, she glanced over at him. “What?”

He reached up and cupped her cheek, fully expecting her to flinch, but she didn’t. “What are you afraid of?” he asked.

“Why do you think I’m afraid of something?” Daisy pulled away from him, stood and folded the quilt.

“Because everybody is. Look, I like you, Daisy. I admire you and respect what you do on a daily basis and after regular work hours. But I worry about you. It doesn’t seem like you allow time for you. Like you fill up your life helping others. Don’t you think you deserve to set aside some time for yourself?”

“That is none of your business.” Daisy packed the quilt into the kayak, then shoved off, climbed in, and paddled away from him.

Sky
pulled himself together and followed her. Yeah, he liked her. A lot. And she was beyond beautiful and full of surprises. Like that kiss, along with flipping him at the Y. He could get used to those kinds of surprises. And when had he ever been with a chick that volunteered her time to help others? Never. Or one that didn’t tolerate his bullshit? Close to never. Or a woman he
respected
? Whoa, this was getting serious.

But she obviously had some kind of baggage stowed away. Sky just wished he knew what the hell it was.

Chapter 8

George was on fire. Heat burned through his flight suit, scorching his skin. He felt the fabric melting in the flames, if that was even possible. His skin melted along with it. Skin that was now liquid and dripping down the seat into the cockpit. He watched it drip. Frozen in time. His lifeblood pumped out of him with each heartbeat.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Hands grabbed at him, and a knife cut away his five-point harness. He felt each flick of the knife. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. He should be free now, but as they pulled him from the cockpit, he slipped through their fingers. Because he was liquid.

And then he knew why. He pulled himself together and fought the men who grabbed at him. He couldn’t leave without Joe. He screamed for them to get Joe out first. He would burn up and it would be okay, as long as his co-pilot got out safely.

But Joe was engulfed in flames. His high-pitched screams echoed on the air, driving the pilot mad. If Joe would be quiet, George might be able to rescue him.

He tried to cover his ears, all the while pushing his rescuers away with his elbows. Didn’t they understand? He didn’t care if he lived or died, as long as Joe made it out. Joe had a wife and a baby. Joe deserved to live.

The rescuers yelled, “Lieutenant! It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re here. Everything’s okay.”

They kept trying to touch him. To pull him to safety, but he didn’t want to go, because he knew if he lived, and Joe didn’t, he’d pay for it for the rest of his life. Knew it in his bones.

The screaming continued. He thought he might go insane with it. Joe turned to him
on fire
and said, “Go, save yourself. I’m already dead. But promise me you’ll take care of Sarah.
Please.”
He always implored him with that one word: Please.

Suddenly he realized Joe really was dead. Sarah was screaming. She pummeled George’s chest. Not to put out the flames. To punish him for not saving Joe. He couldn’t fight them any longer. He gave up and let them pull him from the helicopter. They laid him out on the flight deck. Wrapped him in blankets to smother the flames. He was trapped. He tried to kick off the blankets. They pulled Sarah from him, held her, comforted her. But the screaming went on.

And then he knew. It always happened this way.
He
was the one screaming. And the hands on him were not putting out flames, but comforting him. To calm him. To quiet him down.

“Wake up, sir. It’s okay. It’s another nightmare.”

He bolted up from the bed. His legs were tied up in blankets. He tried to kick them off, which only entangled him further. Panic set in. He flailed harder. Sweat poured from his body. The sheets were soaked. His throat was parched and hoarse from screaming. But he managed to spit out, “Get the hell out of here!”

He heard footsteps. The door opened and closed. Tears poured down his face. He sniffled and swore he smelled the tang of burning fuel hanging in the air.

“Leave me alone, Joe. Just leave me the hell alone.”

Chapter 9

“You’re playing with fire, Daisy Schneider,” she exclaimed to the mirror, one eye shut as she applied mascara, preparing for church. “He’s infuriating, he’s maddening…and he’s charming as can be. But he’s bad news. For starters, he’s a pilot. And a bullshit artist to boot.” She straightened and assessed herself, then glanced down at Jack’s smiling photo on the bathroom counter. “But Jack, I’m so lonely. I’m doing everything to fill the empty time and space, but it’s not enough.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m going to have a relationship
with him
.
Guys like that don’t have relationships. Well, they do, but they only last a short time. I’m not going to
marry
the guy. And what about the kids at the Boys and Girls Club? And Captain Duncan? They’re crazy about Brian. Surely I can’t deny them his company. Maybe I could have a teeny tiny affair and enjoy it for as long as it lasts. You know what? It would serve you right. The way you treated me.”
She gathered up her purse and sweater for church.

She asked herself again why she hadn’t told Brian about Jack. Daisy had learned to be careful who she shared her husband’s death with because people treated her differently once they found out. There were two different camps on the subject: those who handled her with kid gloves and those who shunned her as if death might be contagious. She believed that Brian belonged in the first camp and she had a feeling he might never leave her alone if he knew. But would it be because he wanted to be with her or because he felt sorry for her? Mostly she hadn’t told him because it was none of his business. Besides, there was more to it than Jack’s dying anyway. So she kept it simple. Her personal life was no one else’s concern.

Daisy felt another stab of guilt as she passed Jack
’
s photos on the mantle. “You know what? I’m not speaking to you right now. Because you are majorly pissing me off. So I’m going to turn you around for a while.” And she did just that. “I got royally kissed yesterday and it felt damn good. No. That’s not true. I did the kissing and that felt even better. So there.”

Kissing Brian
had
felt good, and she was up for more. He wasn’t such a bad guy—for a player. He’d been a sport about all the volunteering, never complaining and definitely helping out. There was no doubt his priority was still to get into her pants, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it’s just what she needed. And when he got tired of her and moved on to his next conquest, so be it. Surely they could have fun together until that time. All Daisy knew was it felt terrific to
laugh
again and to kiss a man again. And it also felt liberating to acknowledge she was angry with Jack, without feeling guilty down to her very soul.

“Come on, Daisy. Let nature do its thing, flower child,” Sky said as he stripped off his T-shirt and dropped it on their beach blanket. “The quickest way to get this junk off us is to jump in the ocean, sweaty clothes and all, and then dry off in the sunshine.”

“Last one in is a rotten egg,” Daisy called as she raced toward the surf.

Covered in both sweat and dust from sanding drywall after church, they’d decided to grab a picnic dinner and head to the beach. The late October water was cooler than Sky expected as he dove under a wave, but maybe that was a good thing. Because Daisy had sure made his temperature rise today. They’d sanded and talked and laughed—through their dust masks—all afternoon. And the Ice Queen appeared to be melting a bit more. Sky found his footing in the surf and reached out to Daisy, pulling her to her feet.

She jumped to avoid the next wave, pulled her sopping wet T-shirt to her nose, and sniffed. “But I still stink,” she said flashing her soft, creamy stomach.

The stomach thing was good, but what a waste of a good wet T-shirt. Sky wished she’d kept it plastered to her body because her sports bra underneath wasn’t hiding a thing. Not the fullness of her breasts or the way the cool water had pebbled her nipples. Glad they were in hip-deep water, Sky was doubtful his cargo shorts were doing a better job of hiding things. Man, all they’d done was dive into the ocean and he was ready to rock and roll.

Behave yourself, Skylark. You’re getting close. Don’t drive her away.

But did he listen to himself? No. Instead he took her in his arms, sniffing her sweaty neck. “Mmmmm. I think you smell wonderful. Like a rose. Or, better yet, like a daisy.” And then he kissed her. One minute he was sniffing her neck and the next they were locked in an embrace to beat the band. He picked right up where they’d left off the day before in the sand dunes, and she was kissing him back like it was her job. She melted in his arms, as the surf pounded them. Daisy took a half step in the shifting sand to steady herself—or was it to get a better grip on him?

“Oh, my God!” She jumped into Sky’s arms, wrapping her legs around his hips. She threw her arms around his neck and he settled his hands under her bottom, squeezing it appreciatively.

He grinned. “That good, huh?”

“No, something bit me!”

“Aw, that was the love bug, honey.” Angling his mouth, he dove back into hers. Today she not only explored his teeth with her tongue, but apparently needed to do a perimeter check as well. And once that gauntlet was thrown down, Sky, always the gentleman, graciously accepted the challenge to explore every nook and cranny of her mouth too.

The surf continued to rock them and Sky willed himself to hold on to her, waiting for each wave and bracing for it. Because Daisy’s back was to the horizon, each wave knocked her hips into his, which was definitely not a bad thing. He took a chance and shifted her to his right arm, disengaging his left hand to palm her cheek as he consumed her with kisses. The shift settled her right over his—oh, yeah, right there, honey. Unable to contain his groan, he was surprised when Daisy moaned along with him. Loud enough to hear above the breaking surf.

The rhythm of the waves lulled him, until he anticipated the swells every few seconds, pushing her closer to him, her sounds of satisfaction mingling with the seagulls overhead and the shrieks of children on the beach. But nothing mattered right now except this kiss and this woman and this moment.

Sky’s left hand now operated completely independent of his brain, as it had done many times before, sliding down to stroke her neck and then dipping lower to encompass her entire breast.

No, not right here on the beach with people around.

He’d had this talk with his hands before, when they went rogue like this, but did they ever listen? No. They laughed
at him. And then for good measure, his thumb grazed her nipple, hard from the chill of the water and, he hoped, from the thrill of this kiss. His thumb flicked over it again and again through her T-shirt and sports bra, reminding him who was in charge.

Primal brain: one. The Skylark: zero.

But did Daisy pull away? No, she kept right on kissing him, pushing herself as close to him as she could possibly get, her body also in the rhythm of each incoming wave.

Sky’s feet took charge and had the sense to turn them, hiding his left side from the stragglers left on the beach. This allowed his left thumb to continue its research on the effect of wet T-shirts on nipples after being dunked in seventy-degree water. The conclusion was affirmative that the subject did indeed welcome
the thumb’s action, if her emitting little high-pitched-out-of-control-love-making noises was any indication.