As if reading her mind, Mandy slowly trailed the tip of her tongue over the surface of her lower lip. “I’m volunteering to navigate.”

Linda pulled open the driver’s door and pushed the bucket seat forward so a young girl could climb into the backseat. “Hi, Mandy. Out hunting?”

Mandy slowly danced her fingertips up the side of Jett’s neck and ran them sensuously through Jett’s hair. “Not anymore.”

“Jett, this is Kim,” Linda said as she helped the child with her seat belt. “Jett’s a friend of Mommy’s from work, honey.”

“Hi,” Jett said, turning in her seat to greet the child.

The little girl responded with a shy smile as Linda started the car.

Mandy still clung to Jett’s arm, and Jett eased away as much as she could in the cramped quarters. “Nice meeting you, Mandy.”

“Don’t say good-bye.” Mandy stepped an inch or two away from the car. “Say you’ll call me.” She rattled off a telephone number. “I’m sure anyone who can fly an airplane—”

“Helicopter,” Jett interjected.

“Even better. A helicopter.” Mandy drew out the word with a breathy sigh. “I’m sure you can remember seven little numbers.”

Linda eased the car forward. “Bye, Mandy.”

“I am invited Saturday, aren’t I?” Mandy called.

“Of course,” Linda called back, pulling out into the street and accelerating. She glanced at Jett. “So that’s Mandy. She owns one of the local gyms and volunteers at the rec center in the summer.”

“Uh-huh.” Jett suspected there was quite a lot more to Mandy than Linda was saying, although she didn’t get the sense that Linda actively disliked her. Their interaction had a teasing, mock-challenging quality to it.

Linda glanced at the backseat, then lowered her voice. “So are you going to call her?”

Jett shrugged. She really didn’t know, because calling meant reaching out. Making an effort. Admitting to herself that she wanted contact, closeness, even if it was false. And she still carried too much anger to allow herself that little bit of comfort. “I think she’s out of my league.”

“Ah,” Linda crooned. “I do love a woman with a sense of humor.”

“Then I’m glad you put up with me.”

“You are coming Saturday, right? Mandy or not?”

“I’ll be there,” Jett said, surprising herself. Saturday began her week down between flight rotations, and usually she spent her time holed up in her apartment working on her watches and clocks, trying to sleep, and occasionally venturing out for long, solitary walks in the middle of the night. Seven days without flying, without work to distract her, often felt like seven months.

She didn’t have a lot of experience with parties, but she imagined they were a lot like bars, filled with superficial interactions that allowed her to circle the edges of real connection. Once in a while, when the urge was strong, she’d find someone willing to take what she could offer for a few hours.

“Good. It’ll be fun,” Linda said.

“Great. That sounds great.”

“Oh baby, yeah, yeah,” Darla panted. “God, you’re gonna make me come again. God, God that’s good.”

Tristan knelt between Darla’s spread thighs, sweat dripping from her forehead onto Darla’s long, taut belly. She had four fingers inside her, pushing deep with each hard thrust, her thumb banging against Darla’s clit each time she plunged. She’d already made her come three times and Darla gave no indication of quitting anytime soon. Tristan was fine with that. Darla liked it hard, and she needed the workout. She needed to burn her mind clean. So even though her arm was shaking and her vision blurring with a combination of sweat and fatigue, she kept pumping.

Darla undulated mindlessly, her legs thrashing, her neck arched, her mouth open as she implored and exhorted and exalted. At one point she reared up and clamped onto the arm Tristan was fucking her with so hard her nails broke Tristan’s skin. Tristan almost came from the unexpected surge of pain. Instead, she gripped Darla’s nipple with her free hand and twisted, and Darla gushed with another orgasm.

Eventually, Darla sagged back, moaning quietly. Tristan leaned over her, supporting herself on one arm, and kept going. Darla’s internal muscles clutched weakly at her fingers, and Darla finally pushed Tristan away.

“I’m done, baby,” Darla said drowsily. “That was fantastic.”

Tristan rolled over onto her back. Completely whipped, she closed her eyes.

“I’ll take care of you in a minute.” Darla sounded practically drunk with satisfaction.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tristan couldn’t feel anything below her aching shoulders. “I’m great.”

An hour later, Tristan drove Darla back to the medical school.

“You’re going to get me fired, you know that, baby,” Darla accused, sounding not the least bit concerned.

“You’re too good at what you do for them to fire you. Besides, don’t you get sick time?”

Darla inched close and bit Tristan’s neck while squeezing her crotch. “But I’m not sick. I might have a thing for you, but it’s a healthy addiction.”

Tristan groaned and pushed back in her seat. She was still pumped and swollen from their frantic sex, even after a shower. She hadn’t come other than a fast explosion in the car on the way to her apartment, and that had been more a nervous discharge than a full-bodied orgasm.

“Don’t get me started again. That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m selfish,” Darla whispered, rimming Tristan’s ear with her tongue.

“I don’t think that.” Tristan grasped Darla’s wrist and eased her hand away. “I think I’ve mentioned I love fucking you.”

“Well, good, then. When can we do it again?”

Tristan hesitated. Darla was exactly the kind of woman she liked to date. Darla knew what she wanted, she asked for it, and when she got it, it was enough. Ordinarily, Tristan would be ready for a repeat with her as soon as possible. Sex with Darla that morning had been just like it had been half a dozen times before. Fast and furious—a flash fire decimating everything in its path. Unlike all the other times, though, she was vaguely unsatisfied. Before she could think too much about why, she said, “How does Saturday sound? There’s a bit of a neighborhood gathering and then later, we could sneak away for our own special dessert.”

“Why sneak anywhere?” Darla nipped Tristan’s earlobe. “I bet I can find a quiet corner somewhere and you can do me right there.”

“I work with these people. Think of my reputation.”

“I am.” Darla patted Tristan’s crotch and eased back over into the passenger seat as Tristan pulled up in front of the medical school. “I guarantee after that kind of demonstration, every girl there will want you.”

“That’s the last thing I need.” Tristan laughed. She doubted someone like Jett would be impressed, and just as quickly wondered why she had immediately thought of her. She leaned over and kissed Darla. “I’ll pick you up around seven.”

“I’ll see you then.” Darla stepped out of the car, then leaned down and blew Tristan a kiss. “Thanks, baby. You’re the best.”

Tristan waited until Darla disappeared into the building, then drove toward home. She was tired. Tired and disquieted. Nothing had changed, but nothing felt quite right.

Chapter Eleven

Jett heard the music and the hum of voices before she even reached the gate in the white picket fence that fronted Linda and her partner Robin’s house in a neighborhood of Victorian twins.

Linda’s home was a brilliant robin’s egg blue with darker blue and pale yellow on the detailing along the eaves, windows, and porch. The party was apparently in full swing, which Jett had expected since she was intentionally an hour late. This way she could slip in unnoticed, and leave just as invisibly, if she wanted.

She’d debated for the last day and a half as to whether she was actually going to come to the softball party at all. She’d heard about the huge city women’s league—Linda declared it fertile ground for girl watching and general socializing—but she’d never gone to any games.

When she sought female company, she preferred the clubs. The rules were much clearer there, and almost everyone had a similar agenda.

Even though Linda had invited a lot of the hospital staff, so Jett was certain she would know people, she doubted she’d fit in very well. She just hadn’t developed an easy way of talking to people whose lives were so very different from hers. After spending all her adult life in the military with others whose experiences were almost exactly the same as hers, and having endured eighteen of the last twenty-four months in a combat zone, she didn’t know what to talk about with people whose lives revolved around things as simple and uncomplicated as mutual friends, children, and harmless hospital intrigue.

She stared at the warm, friendly-looking house, her hand on the gate latch, and asked herself why she had come. An answer formed in the back of her mind, one that left her even less willing to step through the gate. Tristan would be there. Tristan would be there and she wanted to see her. They’d had a few easy conversations, a rarity for Jett, and Tristan had somehow gotten her to talk about herself. That event was so unusual, Jett still sensed the inner click of connection whenever she replayed the encounter, which was often. But judging from what she’d seen outside the hospital the other day, Jett was certain Tristan would be with a woman. She’d probably already forgotten their conversation.

“If you’re looking for the party, you’re in the right place.”

A woman approached juggling a case of beer and a grocery bag overflowing with chips and other snacks. Her solid build and bold blue eyes were familiar. Jett only caught glimpses of the trauma team as they huddled on the roof, waiting for the medcrew to offload patients from the helicopter, and she was usually busy securing her aircraft and not watching what was happening outside. Still, she’d seen this woman enough times to recognize her as one of the trauma surgeons.

“Let me give you a hand,” Jett said, reaching for the shopping bag.

“Thanks. I’m Quinn Maguire.” Quinn handed over the sack.

“Jett McNally. I fly for Healthstar.”

“Oh, so you’re responsible for stealing Linda away from us. You’d better not advertise that too loudly. My partner is the ER chief and she hasn’t gotten over Linda’s defection yet.”

“Sorry.” Jett grinned. “Actually, I don’t think I’m responsible. I think it’s the helicopter.”

Quinn laughed and pushed open the gate, motioning Jett to go ahead. “I can see Linda being into that. Seriously, you guys make a huge difference. Since the hospital got flight approval, I’ve seen a real decline in our mortality stats.”

“That’s good to know.” Since the choice had been made for her, Jett stepped into the yard and followed a stone pathway around the side of the house. The wood-fenced backyard was bigger than she expected and crowded with women and men and children.

“I’ve got to dump this stuff inside and find Honor,” Quinn said.

“We’ve got a new baby and Honor is probably due for a little break about now.”

“Here,” Jett said, shifting the groceries to one arm and reaching for the beer with the other. “Where do you need this?”

“Thanks. In the kitchen, I guess.” Quinn pointed to the back porch and the open back door. “Straight through there.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Appreciate it. Nice talking to you.”

Quinn sauntered off into the crowd, and Jett went in search of the kitchen. Having something to do made her feel slightly more comfortable. She nodded to women she didn’t know who smiled as she passed, said hi to Juan, who leaned against the railing with a pretty woman she assumed was his wife, and edged open the back door with her shoulder. The kitchen was as crowded as the yard, filled with people replenishing drinks, exchanging empty bowls of food for full ones, and standing in groups talking. To her relief, Jett saw Linda immediately and headed for her.

“I ran into Quinn. Special delivery.”

“Hey,” Linda said with a big smile. “You made it. That’s great. Oh good, more beer. I should’ve remembered that softball players aren’t big on wine. They’re going through the beer like mad. The backup coolers are in the dining room. Would you mind putting these on ice in there for now?”

“Sure. Where’s the dining room?”

Linda squeezed Jett’s arm. “Sorry. Through that door and to the right. Did you get something to eat?”

“Not yet. I’m good.”

“Well, don’t wait if you get hungry. Soon there won’t be anything left but the carcasses.”

“Got it.” Jett hefted the case of beer and worked her way through the crowd into the relative peace and quiet of the dining room. The table was covered with a paper tablecloth and platters, mostly empty, of the usual summer party fare—salads, burgers, chicken, and pasta dishes. Four coolers sat on plastic sheets against one wall. She set down the case of beer and checked the coolers. When she found one with only a few cans of beer remaining, she squatted to transfer the beer into it.