Love On Call

“If I’m free.” Glenn rubbed her cheek lightly against Mari’s, her lips just grazing Mari’s ear. It might have been an accident, the bucket swayed so much, but Mari chose to believe it wasn’t. “Always by myself, though.”

“I’m glad you brought me up.”

“So am I.”

“How will we get back?”

“If Frank can’t catch a backdraft and turn us around, there’ll be a chase car that will spot our landing and drive us home.” Glenn rubbed her palm lightly over Mari’s abdomen. “You okay with that?”

“Yes.” As long as Glenn didn’t move, Mari didn’t care how long they’d be up in the air or how they’d get back. If the balloon man dropped them off in some little village a hundred miles away and they had to walk back, she didn’t care. She had no one to report to, no one who would worry about her. And no one she would rather be with. To her disappointment, though, after forty minutes or so, she began to realize Frank was slowly turning them, adjusting for the wind currents, and they began a circling return.

Eventually the square came back into view and Frank adjusted the flame, turning it low, and did something to make the balloon begin to deflate. As the envelope, as she’d learned it was called, grew ever so slowly smaller and looser, they lost elevation. She gripped Glenn’s hand tightly.

“There will be a little bump at the bottom, but nothing much. Frank really is very good.”

“I’m fine,” Mari said, and she was.

The basket hit the ground and skidded. Glenn held her steady and Mari laughed. “God, that was fun.”

“Best ride I ever took,” Glenn murmured.

Glenn’s arms stayed around her, and Mari wanted to turn within the circle of Glenn’s protective grasp and kiss her. She’d never wanted anything so much.

“All set, folks,” Frank called from the ground.

Glenn finally jumped out to wait for her on the short steps that Frank’s helper had pushed across the grass to the basket. When Mari climbed over the edge, Glenn caught her by the waist and swung her down. The movement was smooth and possessive, and a wave of desire poured over her. Feeling as free as she had soaring in the air, Mari let her hands fall onto Glenn’s shoulders and brush down over her chest. When her feet finally touched the ground, she kept her hands where they were. Glenn’s breasts strained against the white T-shirt, her nipples small and hard. Mari’s palms brushed over them, and Glenn gasped.

Mari wouldn’t even pretend she didn’t know what she was doing. She wanted her. Had wanted her since the first time they’d touched, since the last time they’d parted. Since Glenn’s kisses and caresses had awakened a need that hadn’t quieted. Glenn had pulled back, ever respectful, ever honorable, because Mari had said she didn’t want a relationship. She still didn’t, but she wanted this.

“I want you to make love to me,” Mari whispered. “Can we have today?”

Glenn couldn’t imagine refusing her. Not when the merest touch of Mari’s fingertips, the brush of her breath over her skin, set her ablaze. She’d barely slept three hours in a row all week. She ached for her, and nothing she could do would put out the flames. A day? An hour? Hell, she would’ve begged for five minutes.

“Yes,” Glenn said hoarsely, knowing she was playing with fire a hell of a lot more dangerous than anything she’d faced in her life. Mari wanted to carve out a chunk of time and set it aside, as if it wasn’t really part of her life, as if that would keep her safe. Keep Glenn safe, somehow. But Mari didn’t know there was no way to ever be safe. Glenn didn’t care—she’d learned to stop caring about safety a long time ago. “Now?”

“Oh yes. Now.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Glenn clasped Mari’s hand as they threaded their way through the crowd and left the commons behind. She kept her grasp loose, giving Mari a chance to pull away if she wanted, giving her a chance to leave if she needed to, if she changed her mind. Her heart hammered and she tried not to think about Mari walking away. Switching off her brain was something she’d had a lot of practice with, in the midst of battle, out on the field or in the emergency room. She could run on autopilot, all her senses alert and finely tuned, locking her emotions away while she fought death. Sometimes keeping the pain and anger and despair locked away meant locking everything else away too, a fair price to pay so she could do her job. She couldn’t seem to manage autopilot with Mari, though.

The Kevlar casing surrounding her heart was cracked wide open, letting feelings in and, maybe even worse, feelings out. Longing for Mari burned inside her chest, created an ache in the pit of her stomach, kept her restless and awake all night. But just like that, the touch of Mari’s hand, her smile, her laughter banished the ache and replaced it with something sweeter. Something she’d never experienced and never thought she needed. A taste of honey in the desert.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Mari said softly.

Glenn smiled wryly. “How come you can read my mind?”