“You didn’t.” Did she understand how much that upset him? He hated the thought that she’d been struggling and he hadn’t even noticed. Had she felt like she couldn’t reach out to him? That he wouldn’t understand? Or worse, had she thought he wouldn’t come through for her?

  “I didn’t want to ruin your high.”

  “I can feel good about my accomplishment and care that you’re struggling at the same time. One isn’t exclusive of the other.”

  “I make pretty decent empanadas.”

  Greg paused, bewildered and with no idea how to respond to that non sequitur. “Good for you?”

  “Okay, Martin, I’m sorry. There. All right?”

  “Damn. I thought you were getting ready to offer to make me dinner to celebrate my being back on your pilot roster, and all I get is an apology?” He grinned, a little tense, awaiting her response.

  “I can only have you over if you accept my apology. Jedi’s rule. Otherwise, he’s coming to stay with you.” He was pleased to hear a teasing note in her voice. It felt like they were back on solid ground.

  “He said that.”

  “I guess you’ll have to come here and ask him for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  “What time are the empanadas going to be ready?”

  “Six.”

  “Tell Jedi I’ll be there. Us guys have to stick together.”

  Greg hung up on her, that trip to the ocean now not only his own private celebration of enjoying the sky, but also a way to pass the interminable hours that lay between him and those empanadas. Between morning and the evening hour that allowed him back into Wendy’s company. He grinned his way to the ocean and back, feeling a high he hadn’t known in years, made a perfect landing back home, bedded and secured his aircraft, and went to give hell to his business associate.

  Because he could.

  Because she wanted him there.

  Because...in the moment...he wanted to be there.

  And because he wanted to tell Jedi what a good boy he was for taking care of her that morning.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She should have nixed the wine. Standing in her kitchen, with Greg looking so fine in a lightweight button-down shirt that hung casually over his waistband in a way that seemed designed to draw her eye to his fly, she knew that a glass of wine before dinner hadn’t been the best call. The black jeans he had on did nothing to hide his goods, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself from looking at them.

  And glanced up to see him watching her in turn.

  “Malbec,” she blurted. “The wine’s Malbec.”

  He might have asked. She couldn’t be sure.

  He’d said something when she’d handed him the glass.

  “Dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes...”

  And that’s how the next half hour went, too. Her noticing him. And trying to pretend she wasn’t.

  Jedi sat at the corner of the table, his gaze moving back and forth between them. Greg cut a beef empanada in half, held it out for the dog. “Don’t get used to this, but you did good today, Jedi. You deserve a treat.”

  She looked away. Knew it wasn’t good for the dog to have table food but also knew that spoiling him a bit wasn’t going to hurt. He was on prescription dog food to build his weight. And Greg was right that he deserved a treat.

  Beyond that, had Greg just acknowledged...

  “He helped you,” she said aloud. The fact was too important to be left unsaid. “You had a moment there before we took off, Jedi nudged you, distracted you, brought you out of it, and you ended up having a great time.”

  Greg was shaking his head, chewing, but still shaking his head.

  “You did,” she insisted. “I saw it on your face when you turned around.”

  “I’m not denying that I had a good flight,” he said after a quick swallow. Picked up another whole empanada and said, “But that’s not the same as saying he helped me. He knocked my hand off the yoke, actually, which was the opposite of useful. But he comforted you, and that’s what I was rewarding him for.”

  What? Okay, yeah, the soothing weight of Jedi on her lap had kept her from a full-out panic attack up there in the sky. That and focusing on Greg’s thighs, keeping her gaze firmly planted inside the plane. But...

  “He supported you, too, Greg.” She couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let him continue to think he hadn’t benefited from Jedi’s assistance.

  And if his nightmares were continuing as she feared they were, she couldn’t let him lose his chance to be Jedi’s owner. Based on what she’d seen with Michael, the nightmares were only a part of what could follow.

  Swallowing another bite, following the food with a sip of wine, he said, “I’m not saying he wouldn’t have been a help if I’d needed it. I’m saying I didn’t need it.”

  He wasn’t exactly her brother. Michael had known he needed support. He just hadn’t believed there were any resources to be had for him. Greg refused to accept that he wasn’t okay, that he needed a service animal. Which meant he wouldn’t agree to adopt Jedi for himself.

  And the end result was the same: a man struggling on his own.

  “You’re going to sit there and tell me—in front of Jedi, who knows—that you weren’t feeling any panic at all, no unease, when he nudged your arm?” She leaned forward, put her face close enough to his that he’d have had to sit back to look away from her.

  He blinked. Frowned. Shrugged. His fork suspended over his nearly empty plate. “It wasn’t panic.” The words took a long time coming.

  Hearing them was worth the wait.

  “Call it whatever you need to call it, Greg. It was starting, just like it has ever since the night of the storm, and Jedi’s nudge took you out of it.”

  “Maybe. But...”

  Shaking her head, she held his gaze. “No buts. That’s Jedi. That’s what he does. Just like when you were reading about nightmares. He senses. He knows. I can’t explain it. But I’ve seen it in other dogs, not as young as him, but still...”

  He had to get it.

  She couldn’t accept any other option.

  She played her trump card. “Just like with Duke.” Then, because she knew it would hit its mark, she even admitted, “And with me, this morning. That was why he moved out of the cockpit. He knew you were fine, but that I wasn’t.”

  When Greg took another bite, relief flooded through her. She had him. Taking a sip of wine, she hid her smile.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’re afraid of heights?”

  Wendy choked on the wine.

  * * *

  She’d opened the door. Had admitted that she’d had a problem that morning that Jedi had helped with. He wasn’t letting her shut him out.

  “Come on, it’s only fair to tell me. You’re all up in my stuff,” he said, enjoying the best tasting empanadas he’d ever had.

  “I’m not up in your stuff.”

  “Of course you are.” He gave her a whatever look. Did she really think she was going to waylay him? “You have been since the night of the storm. All over me to let Jedi, or some other dog, help me out. And maybe, just maybe, for a minute there, you were right.” He’d give her a carrot. Because he was going to take a bushel of them. “I told you I was still having moments of panic when I tried to fly.”

  He chose his words carefully. It wasn’t easy to say this, even if he was just telling her what she’d already guessed. He definitely wasn’t interested in getting into the rest of it. She had no idea that the emergency landing wasn’t the beginning of his struggles with panic or with nightmares.

  And those weren’t fixable. No dog could get in his head and stop the images from coming at him. And no way he’d ever risk hurting someone...

  He was getting off track, while she sat there silently, sipping her wine.

  “Now in turn, I want to know why, considering the fact that I was about to take you up in a very small plane, you didn’t tell me you were afraid of heights.”

  “Because if I’d told you, then you wouldn’t have taken me up.”

  “You don’t know that. It wasn’t like your fear was going to hurt anyone but you. You weren’t in charge of the plane or of anything other than yourself. If you’d wanted to try to beat your fear by going up, I’d have understood that. Just like you understood my battle with panic these past weeks.”

  “Okay, no, that’s entirely different,” she said, her voice gaining strength. She wasn’t eating much, though, and the dinner was excellent.

  “How is it any different at all?”

  “Because your fear was reality-based. You’d been through a traumatic situation. There was reason for you to feel afraid. I don’t have that kind of excuse. I’ve been scared of heights for as long as I can remember—and for no reason at all.”

  “Fear’s fear. It’s never reasonable.”

  Shaking her head, she held his gaze. “But there’s nothing that triggered it. You’ve got trauma because something happened to you. Something that would rattle anybody. My fear...it comes from nothing.”

  “So, what? That somehow makes it not...what? Not legitimate? Not deserving of understanding?”

  He sipped. She sipped. They stared at each other.

  “Why do you think you’re not worthy of the same help you think I’m worthy of?”

  Her mouth opened. Her eyes closed.

  He couldn’t let it go. Too much wine. Too much...everything where she was concerned. “Wendy.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not enough.” Her words were stark. As real as it got. But that didn’t mean Greg could follow the logic. It sounded nonsensical to him. Not enough? Wendy was more than enough—always.

  “What in the hell does that mean?”

  Shrugging, she shook her head. “Look at my dad. He goes on a six-month cruise that’ll have him gone over the holidays, and he doesn’t even tell me he’s going until the day before his departure. Even then, he makes no effort to try to see me before he goes. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t called him. I’m not reason enough to hang around.” There was no self-pity in her words. They could have been talking about the weather.

  Biting back the string of swear words that came to him, Greg took a breath and said, “If you ask me, he’s the one who’s not enough.”

  He had his own father issues, having felt as though he’d disappointed the old man when he’d refused to maintain a career in the military, breaking a hundred-year family tradition. Deep down, Greg knew his father would have understood if Greg had opted to change tracks—even if he’d taken a desk job, or opted to work at the academy. But it wouldn’t have been enough for him, and Greg knew he’d had no choice but to leave.

  Yet even as he told Wendy her father wasn’t enough, he couldn’t say the same about his own. Despite his disappointment, the general had been there for him. Not saying much, but supporting his choices, his efforts, in any way he could.

  “Maybe,” Wendy said slowly. “It’s not just him... Anyway, you’re right. I should have told you that I was afraid of heights before we went up.”

  “Jedi knew. He helped you, didn’t he?”

  He grinned at her, and she smiled back. “Yeah, he did.”

  “So...maybe we could go up again? This time you sit up front with me, and Jedi rides in your lap. I’d like to show you the ocean from above, but low enough that you can see the dolphins swimming.”

  “Are you asking me on a date, Martin?”

  He had to look away. Couldn’t look away. “No, because that would ruin things,” he said, rawly honest.

  “I agree.”

  “But I have been wondering about the possibility of a physical encounter that was only for the moment...if we’re both on that same page?” For all his fighting them, the words just fell out.

  Her head tilted, her mouth curving into a sexy smile as a knowing look entered those light green eyes. “I’ve been on that page since Wednesday...”

  “The kiss.” He licked his lips, looking at hers.

  She licked hers back.

  And he was done with empanadas.

  * * *

  For all their heat, he undressed her slowly—as she did him. Her fingers trembled when, standing beside her bed, she unfastened his buttons one at a time, wanting them undone, but not wanting the undoing to be over.

  “You have the most beautiful pecs of any man I’ve ever seen.” She ran her hands over his chest. His shoulders. Smooth skin. Crisp dark hair.

  “You’ve seen a lot of men, I take it?” His tone was teasing. She wasn’t sure if he was digging for information or not.

  “At the beach, Martin. Swimming pools, going for a jog during the summer...” She licked his nipple. Planted her lips against him. “I’ve had a few lovers,” she admitted. “Few and far between.”

  Would he find that a turnoff? They were keeping this light. Maybe it would make him uncomfortable to hear that taking a lover was a rare occasion for her and that he was one of very few.

  “I’m not into hopping beds, either.” They were the sexiest words she’d ever heard. She couldn’t look at him, though. Couldn’t let the connection become deeper.

  “No one current, then.” She did want to confirm that one.

  “Nope. You?”

  “Uh-uh.” Her voice slid down his chest to his belly button, traveling over him right along with her lips. And tongue.

  He tasted like salt. Smelled of clean, musky man.

  And just an inch lower, jutting up in wait...

  Delicious shivers passed through her as he reached over her, running his fingers along her back. She felt him reach his destination, the slight pinch on the fabric and her body tingle with wanting as her breasts fell free. He didn’t stop there, though. Moving down her back as seductively as he’d crawled up it, he grabbed the bottom edge of her shirt and pulled it over her head.

  He lifted her. She stole a glance up at him and saw that he was gazing with adulation at her honey-colored breasts.

  That look—like he’d seen a piece of heaven—melted her.

  No one had ever looked at her like that.

  And that was her last coherent thought before he pulled her down to the bed with him and encased her in a haze of red-hot physical delight.

  * * *

  Lying side by side with Wendy, her leg wrapped over his waist to accommodate their still-joined bodies, Greg wanted to close his eyes and drift with her. Just until his body could recover enough to have a third round.

  The condom he was wearing saved him from making the mistake.

  He couldn’t fall asleep. Most particularly not after his emotions had been in such high gear. Didn’t seem to matter if his emotions stemmed from sexual arousal, excitement, joy or horror beyond imagination. Any kind of heightened feeling increased the chance of a nightmare.

  And the aftermath of sex—even the most incredible he’d ever had—still brought reality.

  Pulling out of her before the condom failed, he slid away and into the bathroom adjoining her bedroom, as he had already after their first round.

  And, as before, she held out her arms to him, inviting him back to bed, when he reentered the room. Standing there naked, gazing at her sleepy, sated expression, he fought the strong temptation to take her up on the offer. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I can’t do a third time,” he said, sitting on the side of the bed and reaching for his shirt. “Not without recovery time.”

  He ached, not from physical exertion, but from the tension that was his constant companion since being medically discharged from the army. From the responsibility that gave him a life sentence of aloneness.

  His leg ached a bit, too, but that he could easily ignore.

  “You could recover here.”

  He couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t afford the temptation.

  And yet he knew that he had to look at her. She deserved that much.

  Standing, shirt hanging open, Greg put one foot and then the other in his pant legs—foregoing the underwear, shoving them in his pants pocket—and faced her. “I can’t,” he told her as she sat up, propped on pillows, holding the covers to her chest. The position reminded him of the first day he’d let himself into her home and found her in a similar position.

  Plus the skimpy tank top. Minus the covers.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t fall asleep here.”

  The moonlight didn’t provide a lot of illumination, but he met her gaze, telling her with every part of him—his voice, his eyes, his dressed body—that he meant what he said.

  There was no other option.

  No plan B.

  She might be willing to risk getting hurt, but he absolutely could not risk hurting her. He’d been born to serve and protect.

  “Why?” The response was too long coming. Husky sounding.

  “You know why.”

  “Actually, I don’t. You think if you fall asleep here, what we shared is going to turn into something more than in the moment?”

  That, too. Maybe he should go with it. But no, she deserved his honesty.

  “The nightmares,” he reminded her.

  “You’re still having them?”

  He hadn’t in the past few days. But he might that night. Or the next. Or the one after that. The guarantee was that he would have them again. Years of history with them had taught him that. And no way was he turning that night into a history lesson.

  “Yes,” he told her. Keeping it simple.

  They were business associates. Having a moment of sex.

  Top-of-the-wow-meter sex. But still just sex. Not a relationship. Not love. Those weren’t options for him. Not when there was a risk of her getting hurt by everything he carried with him—everything that roiled within him that he couldn’t erase.