Chapter Two

Lieutenant Commander Scott “Harrier” Leighton felt the familiar butterflies reemerge in his belly. Strangely enough, the fluttering only happened when this woman was around. He didn’t understand it, he towered over her by almost a foot and outweighed her by almost one hundred pounds, yet here he sat, nervous as a child on their first day of school.

His blue eyes roved over her as she approached. She wore her dark hair secured tightly off her face and hidden way under a cap marked USS Everett DDG. He preferred her hair down, though; it was thick and fell gently around her face and shoulders. Or it had the last time he’d seen it free. She looked so feminine that way—not that she didn’t now, for she was hot in anything—but she looked gentle with her hair unbound.

Her face was, to him, perfect. Thick eyelashes framed her exotic tiger-eyed gaze. Scott reflected on that cute nose and those succulent full lips he’d wanted to kiss the very first time he’d seen her. This was the eighth time they’d met, and that desire was just as strong today as it had been the first day. Scott knew it was only a matter of time before he gave into that yearning.

She was five-seven and had all the right curves in all the right places. Her breasts were full and her hips made him imagine nothing except his hands holding them as he drove into her body as deeply as he could go. Over and over, all night long. Her ass made his mouth go dry; it was flawless.

She was the total package. Beautiful, smart, energetic, strong, and very sexy. Topping it off, her body looked as if it had been covered with rich toffee. I would sell my soul for one night with this ebony goddess.

Scott knew all about her because he’d pulled up her file and read up on her. Upon graduation, she’d become a non-commissioned officer. In Scott’s mind, this was why commissioned and non-commissioned officers respected her so much. She was the perfect liaison between the levels. He also knew when and where she was born, where she considered her permanent address to be, and how many family members she had. But all of that wasn’t enough. Everything he’d learned was technical; he wanted to know this woman.

He blinked as he realized she was staring at him, waiting for a response. “I’m sorry, what?” I sound like a moron! he thought ruefully.

“I said you need to take off your shirt. There is a deep tear and I want to evaluate whether or not you require stitches,” she informed him in a crisp and professional voice.

His eyes blazed with a heat that could have burned a hole right into the hull of the ship. “Sure, just a sec.” He began to remove his shirt and couldn’t stop the hiss of pain that slipped out from between his teeth.

Her fingers were there, brushing his out of the way as she searched. “Hang on, let me look.” A couple of noncommittal murmurs left her mouth and went straight into his ears, traveling quickly to his groin. “This needs stitches.” She turned her head and their faces were inches apart.

The busy room seemed to fade away into silence as their twin gazes bore into each other. It would take nothing to lean in and taste her lips, but Alexis pulled her head back abruptly. “Take it off,” she ordered in a brisk tone.

One eyebrow, covered with paint, arched as he said, “What?”

“Your shirt. Take it off and I will clean the wound and get someone to stitch you up,” she elaborated insistently.

Oh, hell no! I am not about to let you weasel your way out of looking at or touching my body! “I want you…” That damn hesitation again, “To do it.”

“Why me? There are plenty of corpsmen who can stitch a wound just fine. There are other people in here hurt worse than you.”

“I remember how well you took care of Cade on the carrier in the Caribbean.”

He and his men had just rescued his second-in-command and best friend Tyson Kincade, along with his wife Jayde, from the mountains of Belize. Her previous duty had been on that aircraft carrier; now she was here in a different ocean and still making him tremble. “Very well,” she said reluctantly.

Scott quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not scared of touching me are you, Alexis?” his deep tone purred.

Her eyes flew open wide at his use of her first name. It was as if her name was made to roll off his tongue. While there had always been an attraction between them, he’d never before done anything like this. It was such a breach of protocol. He would be in so much trouble if she were to report it. “Why would I be scared? Did you pick something up that I might catch?” she sassed him back as she helped him remove his shirt.

I can’t believe those words came out of my mouth. At least she is joking about it. “I have never picked anything up. Ever.” He was clear of any and all sexually transmitted diseases.

“I’m sure your wife or girlfriend is very pleased to know that,” Alexis ventured primly.

He grimaced slightly as she applied the sterilizer to the gash. “You know I don’t have a wife.”

She didn’t even look at him. “I don’t know anything about you, Commander,” she said, reminding them of the protocol.

His words were soft. “Don’t lie to me or yourself.”

“Don’t move. And keep your arm where it is,” she said as she threaded a needle. “Are you sure you don’t want a local?”

“I’m sure. Just keep talking to me and I will be fine.” You could amputate my left leg if you talked to me through it. I just want to hear your seductive voice.

“You’re the boss,” she muttered.

I will be soon. “Tell me about yourself then, so I can get to know you,” he ordered as she slid the nee-dle into his flesh.

“What has you so interested in my life, Sc…Commander?” Her eyes narrowed with concentration as she made tiny, even stitches in his side.

He heard her slip and smiled as he looked at the top of her head. “The same thing that has you interest-ed in mine,” he whispered, falling silent as another person walked into the small area.

“Chief Rogets,” the corpsmen said. “We need your help with one of the other men.”

“Is it an emergency, Corpsman?” she asked, not taking her eyes off her work.

“No, ma’am, just as soon as you can.” He looked at the bare-chested man who sat on the bed while the woman sewed up his side. “Sir, ma’am.” Then he was gone.

Finishing swiftly, Alexis tied off the last suture and cut it. Pushing away on her wheeled stool, Alexis rolled to the sink, removed the gloves from her hands, and washed them as she talked to the man sitting behind her. “There you go, Commander. Take it easy and you should be fine in a couple of weeks.” Alexis reached for the towel and found him holding it out to her.

“Thanks for taking such good care of me,” he murmured. He started to reach out and caress her until a yell from across the room snatched their attention.

“Lex! He’s crashing!”

With barely a glance at the handsome SEAL, Alexis “Lex” Rogets dashed away to lend her expertise.

Picking up his discarded and possibly ruined shirt along with his pack, Scott gazed across the room and watched in amazement as she worked diligently on the man. Even when blood sprayed up at her she seemed unfazed. She was a damn good doctor, sexy as hell, and someday soon, his. With one final look, he left medical to hit the showers and check on the rest of his men.