Jayhawk Down by Sharon Calvin Read Free Book Online

brain that suggested a bedroom. Or any semi-flat surface for that matter. Casual sex had proved impossible for her, another reason she tended to end relationships before getting physical. Beating a hasty retreat sounded like the better part of valor. At least until she decided what she wanted to do with Dr. Tall Dark And Aerobatic.
    Besides getting him naked.
    “I think we should call it a night.” She softened her blunt words with a megawatt smile. “I’m off work the next forty-eight hours if you want to take
George
out again.”
    Stillman folded his arms across his chest. “Unfortunately, I’m booked. How ’bout I give you a call when I get next week’s roster?”
    That was interesting. Playing hard to get, or not interested if she wasn’t going to put out? She turned and headed for her motorcycle. “Sure.”
    Busy maneuvering her bike around to face the open hangar door she didn’t notice Stillman until he touched her arm. Startled, she looked up into smoldering eyes and a set mouth.
    “Don’t think for one second I’m going to forget what damn near happened.”
    Caitlyn tilted her head. “What exactly ‘damn near happened’?” Her heartbeat spiked as carnal images played across her mind’s X-rated theater.
    The smile that softened his face could only be described as wicked. “You. Me. Against the plane...” As he spoke he leaned over her, his heat and husky words scattering goose bumps over her skin. Tightening her nipples with anticipation.
    She continued with her own take of what could have happened, “...on the workbench, bent over
Black Beauty
...”
    Stillman’s mouth quirked, then he gave up and laughed. “
Black Beauty
, huh? Queeny, I can’t wait to hear what you name my—”
    She thumbed the Start button and the deep burble of a hundred-eighty horses drowned out his words but not his meaning. She grinned in return and slipped her helmet over her head, avoiding a kiss from his tempting mouth. He stepped back and gave her a smart salute.
    Caitlyn had her bike cruising seventy miles an hour in light traffic along I-4 before she realized just how different her date with Stillman had been.
    Unlike the usual ego-driven doctors, who went on, and on, and on about themselves, Stillman had spent most the evening answering her incessant questions about flying aerobatics. He’d asked about her family and seemed fascinated by her assorted foster and adopted siblings and growing up poor in South Carolina. But he’d volunteered nothing about his own family or home life.
    She leaned low over her bike and felt the vibration of the motor pulse between her legs as she zipped around a slow-moving semi. Unease nibbled at her excitement, reducing it to scattered crumbs.
    What did she really know about Dr. Stillman Gray III? And what the hell was she going to do about their combustible chemistry?

Chapter Three
    St. Petersburg,
FL,
Monday, 19 September, 1735 hours
    Stillman dumped another box of clothes onto the growing mound on his unmade bed. In his haste to leave New York, he’d packed with more fervor than thought. Which explained why he still hadn’t found the flight suit he’d modified for medical duty.
    He tossed a handful of exhausted scrubs aside and spotted a flash of army green, at the same time his newly connected phone rang. Only his mother and the hospital had that number. He grabbed the material first, the phone second. And prayed it was the hospital.
    His gruff “Hello?” elicited a moment of silence.
    “Stillman, sweetie, is that you?”
    Shit. Add ex-wife to the list of people with his number.
    He glanced down at the coarse Nomex fabric wadded in his fist. “What do you need, Hilary?” Why did it seem he’d spoken to her more in the two years since their divorce than the preceding five years of marriage?
    “Stillman, why do you assume I only call when I need something?”
    He kept his mouth shut, smart enough to recognize a rhetorical question.
    “I saw your mother at the club