Rogenna Brewer - Sign, Seal, Deliver

“Smug? Because you’ll receive a slap on the wrist while I’ll get booted out of the Navy? If you won’t think about your career, at least think about mine. Do you have any idea how serious this is? We were lucky to get off with just a warning.” She faced forward and folded her arms.

“I know how serious I am about us…” The doors started to part. He moved to the control panel and held down the close-door button despite the rumble of protest from those waiting outside the elevator.

Because he stood directly in her line of vision she had no choice but to look at him. He stared at her with such burning intensity it would have been hard for her to ignore him, but whatever the promise in his eyes, she didn’t want to see it.

“There is no ‘us,’ Zach.”

“There’s always been an ‘us,’ Michelle.”

She could almost hear the sincerity in the deep baritone of his voice. But it only made her want to lash out, inflict more pain until he was feeling as conflicted as she felt every time she looked at him, every time she got behind the controls of her Tomcat. There was no room in her life for the two things she wanted most.

In the end she could only have one.

She knew what to expect from a machine. Her expectations for this particular man could only lead to heartbreak. The ability to compartmentalize one’s mind was a critical skill for a pilot. Zach didn’t fit neatly into any aspect of her life. Friend, boyfriend? Lover, squad leader?

Competition.

She had no option left but to cut him out completely.

“Get it into that thick skull of yours, Prince. I don’t love you! I’ve never loved you. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” She batted his hand away from the hold button and fled as the doors slid open. She didn’t wait to hear if maybe, just maybe, his answer would give her the one thing she didn’t need right now.

Hope.

LEAVE HER ALONE? Zach stood in the wake of Michelle’s words and his own total disbelief. Like hell he would!

He was just about to start after her when the elevator began to fill up around him, bringing him back to his senses. She needed space. And he needed…damn, he couldn’t think of anything he needed except her.

He changed direction midstep. Jostling a senior officer on the way out, Zach mumbled a hasty apology. The commander growled something in return. Great, that probably cost him a grade on his next landing. The guy had a reputation for being a hard-ass LSO. But Zach didn’t feel like sucking up today.

He turned aft down the amidships passageway toward the nearest officers’ mess. He’d long since chewed the sugar out of his gum, but he punctuated his thoughts by snapping bubbles in rapid-fire succession.

Michelle had brought him as close as he’d ever come to losing his cool. As a rule, he had the easygoing nature of a middle child. With an over-achiever for an older sister, he’d naturally learned to keep up or get left behind. And because his kid brother worshiped the ground he walked on, he’d made sure the squirt came along for the ride. They were a competitive family.

But with Michelle, it was just that much easier to let her be the boss. He didn’t mind taking the back seat in their as-yet-undefined relationship. What he did mind was being dumped out on the highway at ninety miles an hour, mowed down and left as roadkill.

I don’t love you! I’ve never loved you. Why can’t you just leave me alone?

He didn’t believe her, but something was definitely wrong. She’d grown distant these past few months. He could feel her slipping away with each passing day. And he didn’t know how to hold on. So he’d taken the action of a man desperate and damned.

He’d bought an engagement ring.

Duty free. Right out of the Navy Exchange Catalog. Zach almost groaned out loud thinking about his lack of sensibility. He considered himself a pretty smart guy. He knew better than to purchase a diamond sight unseen.

For one thing it didn’t have any romantic appeal. The parcel had arrived yesterday at mail call—dripping wet after the helicopter had dropped a couple of mailbags into the ocean during transfer. The bundles had been retrieved by divers. Postal clerks had somehow managed to sort through illegible ink smears and soaked care packages to find their disgruntled recipients.

When he’d taken the ring from the soggy box, the plain gold band with its substandard crystallized carbon looked just about perfect nestled in the palm of his hand. From that moment on he couldn’t wait to slip the logical, if somewhat flawed, token of his esteem onto Michelle’s finger.

Hell, he could always buy her a bigger rock. And he’d have a lifetime to get used to the idea of being married.

Marriage. A big step. Maybe the biggest he’d take in his lifetime. Making the decision to leap felt kind of like an emergency ejection during an aborted takeoff. Damned if you did, and damned if you didn’t. Odds were you’d survive a crash in front of the ship only to be dragged under and drowned.

And that was what he felt like right now. A drowning man. But Michelle was his life preserver.

As he neared the mess, the deceptive smells of sizzling bacon and frying eggs—any-way-you-like-’em as long as you liked them runny and scrambled—ambushed his senses. There hadn’t been eggs on board since the last port of call.

Above the cacophony of sounds from the busy kitchen and several simultaneous conversations from the dining area, he zeroed in on his RIO’s street-smart, New York accent.

“Yo, Zach! Over here.” Steve waved from a corner cloth-covered table where he sat eating breakfast with Skeeter. The white linen was supposed to remind them they were officers. And somehow make them forget they were eating the same chow as the enlisted personnel.

Zach nodded as he entered and picked up a tray. Moving quickly through the breakfast buffet line, he chose his favorite preflight carbo load—a short stack of pancakes drowned in imitation maple syrup with a tall glass of powdered milk on the side.

God, he missed whole milk, fresh eggs and a long grocery list of other favorite foods. But this far into deployment just about everything came reconstituted.

Welcome to shipboard life, haze gray and under way.

Plastering a smile on his face, Zach pulled out a chair next to Skeeter and sat down.

“The old man rip you a new one?” Steve asked.

“You could say that,” Zach admitted “Where’s Michelle?”

“I’ve already had this conversation once today and it’s not even 0600. He’s all yours, Marietta.” Skeeter got up, leaving the rest of her breakfast untouched.

Plucking the dusty plastic rose from the bud vase, Zach held it out to her. “Are you sure you have to go?”

Skeeter rejected the faux flower and his insincerity by turning away.

“I don’t think she likes me,” Zach confided in his RIO once the other navigator was out of ear-shot. Not that he cared. Sticking his gum on the side of his plate, he picked up his glass.

“Aren’t you barking up the wrong skirt?”

Zach almost choked on a swallow of chalky milk headed down his windpipe. He coughed to clear his throat.

Steve offered a sheepish grin. “So Skeeter doesn’t like you and Michelle is pissed at you—what else is new?” Steve sopped up the gravy on his plate with his last bite of biscuit, a Navy specialty called SOS.

“‘Pissed’ is an understatement.” Zach dug into his pancakes. “Michelle acts as if I’m out to destroy her career,” he managed to say between bites.

“And you probably will. Admit it, Prince, you’re a nonconformist. You don’t give a damn about your career. But you’re a helluva F-14 pilot, which is why the Navy puts up with you. Your call sign isn’t Renegade for nothing, you know.”