Authors: Catherine Mann
“Amen,
Flipper.”
He
gave
her
a
gentle
smack
on
the
bottom,
which
just
happened
to
be
sporting
a
thong.
His
eyes
widened
as
much
as
his
smile.
She
swatted
his
fine
tush
right
back.
“Okay,
to
be
fair,
I
am
wired
a
little
tight
and
enjoy
my
colorcoordinated
hair
scrunchies,
but
I’m
tough.”
“Believe
me,
I
know
that.”
His
hands
gentled
up
her
back,
his
forehead
falling
to
rest
on
hers.
“You’re
one of
the
toughest
ladies
I’ve
ever
met
and
it
turns
me
inside
out
until
I
want
you
so
much
I
can’t
fucking
see through
all
the
testosterone
clouding
my
eyes.”
His
words
floored
her.
She
wanted
to
cry
and
crawl
all
over
him
at
the
same
time.
“Wow,
your
charm
woke up.”
He
clasped
her
hips
and
drew
her
against
the
erection
straining
at
his
boxer
shorts.
“I
do
believe
another
part of
me
has
woken
as
well.”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
INSIDE
HER
TENT,Bobby
held
Gracie
in
his
arms
and
wondered
how
he
could
work
his
way
past
this woman’s
amazing
mind
and
persuade
her
to
let
him
stick
around
for
a
while.
Although
right
now,
sex
in
her
tent
didn’t
sound
too
shabby
and,
as
always,
time
alone
was
limited.
They made
their
way
toward
her
cot,
only
to
have
her
yelp
and
stop
short.
“Ouch!”
She
reached
down
and
pulled
up
the
bird
he’d
carved
and
stuck
in
his
flight
suit—apparently forgetting
to
zip
the
zipper.
“Oh,
how
beautiful.
Where
did
you
find
this?” He
scooped
up
the
knife
before
she
stepped
on
that
as
well
and
severed
an
artery,
thereby
prematurely ending
their
encounter.
“I
made
it.”
“No
kidding?
You
whittle?”
“Passes
the
time.
We
spend
a
lot
of
weeks
in
foreign
countries
waiting
for
the
world
to
explode
again.” She
cradled
the
simple
carving
that
for
some
unknown
reason
she
thought
was
special.
“So
you
have
other uses
for
your
knife
beside
fighting
and
eating.”
“Apparently.”
“All
those
little
toys
you
gave
the
children
wereyour
carvings?” Yeah,
but
for
some
reason
he
couldn’t
define,
he
didn’t
want
to
admit
it.
Gracie
continued
for
him
instead.
“Again
you
prove
my
point.
Battles
can
be
won
through
the
mind.”
“I’m
not
an
idiot,”
he
answered,
not
liking
this
line
of
conversation
because,
damn
it,
Gracie
always
seemed determined
to
push
him
to
think
about
things
he
would
rather
leave
dormant.
“I
realize
your
job
plays
an important
role,
but
eventually
it’s
about
the
firepower.”
He
held
up
his
knife
between
them,
large
and
lethal.
“Hell
yeah,
you
can
call
it
some
kind
of
phallic
symbol we
guys
have
some
deepseated
macho
need
to
carry.
Big
knife.
Big
plane.
Big
firepower.
That’s
who
I
am and
the
reason
you
wanted
to
leave
in
the
first
place.”
Gracie
sauntered
closer
to
him
again
in
her
black
lace
bra
and
thong.
She
stopped
inches
away
and
ran
her finger
down
the
length
of
his
blade,
the
side,
not
the
edge.
All
that
talk
of
phallic
symbols
and
her
stroke
had
him
throbbing
like
an
oversexed
teenager.
Holy
crap.
“Perhaps
I
can
do
more
with
my
mind
and
with
my
words,
until
the
size
of
that
knife
isn’t
as
important
as you
seem
to
think.”
Laughter
rumbled,
tighter
than
he
would
like,
his
balls
pulled
so
close
against
his
body
with
want
he
could hardly
breathe.
“So
it
all
cycles
around
to
size,
does
it?
You
women
say
it
doesn’t
matter,
but
somehow
it creeps
into
every
conversation
before
you
know
it—”
“You
know
this
thong
I’m
wearing?”
She
angled
to
whisper
against
his
mouth.
“It’s
edible.” He
dropped
the
knife.
The
blade
nailed
into
the
ground,
handle
vibrating.
“Where
the
hell
did
you
get those?”
“There’s
nothing
you
can’t
buy
in
the
wideopenair
market
in
downtown
Cantou.”
She
stared
at
his
great big
ol’phallic
knife
on
the
ground.
“Point
about
the
power
of
the
mind
made,
my
mighty
warrior.”
“You
planned?”
he
asked.
“I
hoped,”
Gracie
responded.
She
turned
toward
her
cot,
giving
him
a
firstclass
view
of
her
firstclass
ass.
“Gracie.”
He
knelt
to
retrieve
the
blade
from
the
ground.
“Wait.” She
pivoted
toward
him,
standing
like
a
lush
goddess
across
the
tent.
“Come
here,”
he
demanded
ofhis
lush
goddess
who
was
about
to
get
a
surprise
of
her
own.
Four
strides
brought
her
back
to
him.
Carefully,
so
very
leisurely
that
she
could
stop
him
at
any
time,
he
slid
the
knife’s
blade
beneath
the
stringy strap
of
her
underwear
stretched
across
her
hip—and
cut
the
edible
fabric.
“WE
MISSED
YOUat
breakfast.”
Warily,
Felicia
sat
on
the
bed
behind
stonestill
Matt,
wrapping
her
arms around
his
waist
and
resting
her
head
on
his
shoulder.
“Although
given
the
level
of
the
cuisine,
I
have
to confess
you
weren’t
missing
much.”
No
answer.
She
could
feel
the
lowdown
mood
radiating
off
him
like
mist
rolling
across
one
of
the
Great
Lakes.
She’d grown
up
near
Lake
Huron,
and
that
mist
could
be
so
thick
you
couldn’t
see
your
hand
in
front
of
your
face, much
less
figure
out
which
direction
to
walk.
Her
mind
reeled
with
thoughts
of
that
old
Edmund
Fitzgerald song
about
the
boat
sinking.
What
a
morbid
thought,
but
she
wasn’t
getting
warm
fuzzy
feelings
off
Matt
right
now.
She
thought
of
all
he’d
shared
and
she
worried,
wondering
if
she
should
go
get
his
daughter.
“Do
you
need Grace
Marie?”
He
shook
his
head.
“Already
made
use
of
the
flight
doc’s
bag
of
medical
goodies.” Her
hands
roved
a
lazy
rhythm
over
his
chest
while
she
stayed
silent,
just
waiting.
“Not
a
good
day?”
“You
could
say
that.”
His
voice
was
thin,
different.
She
would
have
noticed
even
if
she
hadn’t
known
about his
condition,
but
somehow
she’d
become
attuned
to
this
man.
“That’s
okay.
I
like
you
on
bad
days,
too.” He
laughed,
a
dark
sound
unlike
any
she’d
heard
from
him.
“I
don’t
think
you
know
how
bad
the
days
can get.”
“I’m
an
intelligent
woman
and
perhaps
have
done
some
research
on
the
Internet
since
you
told
me
about your
history.”
That
stirred
a
reaction
from
him
as
he
looked
over
his
shoulder
at
her
with
a
half
attempt
at
a
smile.
“Thank you.”
Then
he
turned
back
around.
“I
do
a
fairly
decent
job
of
juggling
the
meds,
mixing
a
cocktail
of
sorts when
needed.”
“So
you
are
cocktailing
today.”
He
nodded
slowly.
“I
took
some
Lamictal.
It’s
pretty
cutting
edge,
treats
bipolar
depression
in
particular
so
I don’t
swing
over
into
a
maniac
fit
instead.
I’m
just
waiting
for
the
meds
to
kick
in
and
level
things
out.” She
let
the
silence
hang
for
a
while
since
speaking
seemed
tough
for
him.
Processing
words
would
probably be
equally
difficult,
so
she
gave
him
time
to
assimilate.
He
didn’t
seem
to
mind
her
sitting
behind
him,
rubbing
his
back,
squeezing
his
shoulders
then
moving
up
to massage
his
scalp
until
the
time
seemed
right
to
talk
again.
She
slid
her
arms
around
his
neck
until
her
hands rested
over
his
heart.
She
gauged
his
heart
rate.
As
much
reading
as
she’d
done,
instincts
still
seemed
her
best
bet.
“Can
I
do
something
for
you?” He
folded
his
hands
over
hers.
“No,
but
thanks.
Nothing
more
to
do
for
this
but
wait
now.
I
don’t
expect you
to
understand.”
She
put
her
chin
on
his
shoulder.
“I
recognize
pain
when
I
see
it.” He
squeezed
her
hands
on
his
chest.
“I’ve
been
in
pain,
Matt,
torturous
physical
pain
with
my
cancer
surgeries
and
treatment.
The
emotional
ride during
those
years
wasn’t
all
that
great
either.
I
understand
how
it
can
consume
you.”
“Explain?”
he
said
as
if
he
could
only
squeeze
out
one
word,
but
oddly
enough
the
word
sounded…hopeful.
Tears
welled
at
just
the
memory
of
the
aches
and,
worst
of
all,
the
terror.
“I
realize
how
it
takes
over
your life.
Yes,
I’m
cured,
but
I’ll
never
forget.
The
fear
of
going
out
of
remission
still
slips
up
on
me
sometimes after
all
these
years,
especially
in
the
quiet
of
night.”
He
squeezed
her
hands
again.
“Thank
you,
but
I
don’t
have
a
potentially
terminal
disease.” She
continued
to
rest
her
head
on
his
shoulder
since
it
seemed
easier
for
him
to
speak
this
way,
without making
eye
contact.
The
dreary
tent
full
of
shadows
sure
didn’t
lend
a
happymood
setting.
She
thought
of how
she
would
enjoy
filling
his
world
with
swathes
of
bright
colors
and
light.
The
future.
She
was
actually
planning
for
the
future,
something
she’d
always
been
wary
of
doing,
just
in case
the
worst
happened.
Going
out
of
remission.
But
this
was
about
Matt.
Felicia
held
him
a
little
tighter
to
ground
him
in
the
here
and
now.
“You
have
a disease
nonetheless.
The
brain
is
every
bit
as
much
an
organ
as
any
other
part
of
your
body.
How
is
this
any different
from
someone
who
has
diabetes
and
needs
insulin?
Perhaps
the
levels
increase
with
time,
but
the person
who
stays
in
touch
with
his
doctor
for
a
good
maintenance
plan
can
live
a
full
life.” He
chuckled
again,
still
dark
and
a
bit
thin,
but
longer
this
time.
“Your
‘people
sense’
IQ.”
“Excuse
me?
I’m
not
sure
what
you
mean.”
“You’re
a
wise
lady.”
Wow,
a
compliment
that
didn’t
have
anything
to
do
with
her
backside
or
breasts.
“If
I’m
such
a
wise
lady, will
you
please
be
honest
with
me
if
I
ask
you
something?”
“I
believe
I
can
handle
that.”
Her
stomach
cramped
at
the
fear
of
asking
and
being
rejected.
Being
able
to
help
him
meant
more
to
her
than she
could
have
imagined,
but
she
refused
to
shy
away.
“Is
it
better
for
you
if
I
stay
or
leave
right
now?” She
waited,
her
stomach
gripping
almost
as
tight
as
her
heart.
Finally,
he
exhaled.
“Stay,
but
no
more
talking.”
“I
can
handle
that
and
I
thank
you
for
your
trust.”
He
angled
around
until
she
could
see
his
face,
such
a
sad
and
somber
expression
with
eyes
so
full
of
agony she
wanted
to
cry
for
him
but
refused
to
add
to
his
pain.
Matt
gripped
her
waist
and
swung
her
around
to
sit on
his
lap,
tucking
her
head
under
his
chin
and
just
holding
her.
She’d
always
expected
that
if
she
ever
found
that
romance
novel
kind
of
love
she’d
read
about,
she
would be
by
a
lake
with
fireworks
exploding
while
the
man
of
her
dreams
kissed
her.
There
was
little
light
in
this
room
to
illuminate
the
olive
green
gear
and
shadows,
but
her
heart
brightened with
the
truth
all
the
same.
Light
days
or
dark,
she
had
found
her
man
to
love.
MAKING
LOVEwith
Gracie
blew
his
mind.
Sprawled
on
her
cot,
with
her
draped
naked
over
him,
a
little
sticky
from
the
cherryflavored
underwear.
He’d
gotten
dressed
and
run
out
to
find
them
some
food
and
get
himself
a
change
of
clothes,
comfy
civilian duds
for
a
lowkey
afternoon.
He’d
reentered
her
tent
and
promptly
threw
all
clothes
aside
again.
Thank
goodness
her
roomie
would
stay
away.
Apparently
women
had
their
“stay
out—entertaining
a
guy” symbols
like
guys
did.
Her
tent
currently
sported
a
water
bottle
resting
right
at
the
flap.
That
she’d
planned
ahead
for
the
two
of
them,
the
possibility…that,
he
liked
to
consider
very
much.
Bobby traced
his
fingers
up
and
down
her
spine,
one
vertebra
at
a
time.
“Shall
we
call
that
one
a
draw,
Doc?”
“I’m
too
tired
even
to
consider
it
anything
else.”
She
sighed
over
his
chest.
“Why
thank
you,
ma’am.
We
spent
a
lot
of
time
making
love…and
talking.”
His
booted
foot
started
jiggling faster
before
he
finally
blurted,
“I
know
we
called
the
conversation
a
draw,
but
I
just
want
to
make
sure
you realize
I’m
not
some
whackjob
for
you
to
psychoanalyze.”
“That
never
crossed
my
mind.
The
numberone
rule
of
a
relationship
is
for
a
shrink
to
leave
that
sort
of mindprobing
at
the
door.
It’s
not
fair
to
either
of
us.”
“Can
you
honestly
say
you
didn’t
look
at
me
and
think
that
I’m
crazy,
just
like
your
dear
old
pops?
Then you
had
your
excuse
to
run.
You
never
gave
me
a
fair
shake
right
from
the
getgo.”
“There
might
be
some
truth
to
that,
but
you
tried
your
best
to
scare
me
off.
You
may
have
spent
a
small fortune
on
a
meal
as
an
outofcharacter
gesture
you
say
was
meant
to
impress
me,
but
every
other
move
you made
seemed
determined
to
make
me
run,
or
at
the
very
least,
test
me.”
“See,
there
you
go
analyzing
me.”
He
pinched
two
fingers
together
as
if
grasping
a
pencil
and
writing.
“Commitment
phobic.”
“So
now
you
have
your
psychology
degree?”
“You
are
a
profiler.
Is
that
something
you
can
just
turn
off
and
on
at
will?” She
grasped
his
hips,
his
erection
softening
but
still
inside
her.
“I
can
when
you’re
buried
heartdeep
within me.”
“Wow,
you
sure
do
know
how
to
shut
up
a
fella
fast.”
He
throbbed
to
life
again.
“But
you’re
still
talking.”
She
wriggled
her
hips
against
his,
inhaling
the
scent
of
cherry
and
sweaty
sex.
He
may
have
throbbed
to
life,
but
she
knew
neither
of
them
was
ready
for
round
three
of
sex,
and
they would
have
to
dress
soon,
anyway.
How
odd
that
she
actually
wanted
to
talk
more
right
now
than
try
to work
in
one
more
quickie,
and
her
instincts
told
her
he
felt
the
same.
Even
stranger.
He
rolled
off
her
and
to
his
side,
gathering
her
closer,
which
kept
her
from
being
able
to
see
his
face.
“Okay, so
we’re
talking
as
a
couple
and
you’ve
checked
your
degree
at
the
door.
Right?”
“Cross
my
heart,”
she
answered,
suddenly
wondering
how
she
was
so
fast
losing
control
of
that
heart
and who
it
belonged
to.
Bobby
continued
to
hold
her,
not
rubbing,
not
even
moving,
so
different
for
him,
but
almost
as
if
he
was anchoring
himself
in
her
intrinsic
stillness.
“You
want
to
hear
what
it’s
like
growing
up
with
a
junkie mother?
Never
knowing
if
she’s
going
to
be
there
when
you
go
to
bed
at
night
or
wake
up
in
the
morning?
The
details
aren’t
pretty
but
then
you’ve
probably
heard
worse
with
whatever
sickos
you
deal
with
in
your profiler
day
job
when
you’re
not
doing
your
patriotic
reservist
gig.” His
words
shocked
and
hurt
her,
for
him,
for
her
as
well,
because
they
were
so
tangled
up
together
now,
his pain
was
hers.
“Whatever
I’ve
heard
in
the
past
holds
no
bearing
on
this
moment.
This
is
just
you
and
me, remember?”
His
arms
wrapped
tighter
with
a
slight
tremor
as
if
in
a
deeper
trust
rarely
given.
“I
can
fall
asleep
anywhere, so
that
wasn’t
a
problem.
The
lack
of
food,
however,
was
a
big
issue.
You
may
have
noticed
I’m
wired
a little
tight.
Had
a
doc
say
once
I’m
borderline
hypoglycemic
so
I
need
to
eat
frequent
snacks.
Kinda
tough where
I
lived.
My
most
common
‘treats’
as
a
kid?
Mustard
sandwiches
or
mayo
sandwiches.
Mayo
worked better
since
it
put
some
fat
into
the
equation.”
A
gag
built
in
her
throat
that
she
swallowed
down
for
his
sake.
Only
then
did
she
realize
that
while
he’d stopped
stroking
her,
she’d
begun
rubbing
soothing
patterns
along
his
back.
No
wonder
he
snitched restaurant
and
store
freebies
compulsively.
“I
wish
I
had
known
you
then
and
could
have
brought
you
to
my house.
Things
may
have
been
a
roller
coaster,
but
we
had
food.” She
felt
Bobby’s
smile
against
the
top
of
her
head.
“Your
father
would
have
never
let
you
play
with
a
kid who
lived
where
I
came
from.”