Jayhawk Down Read Free Page B

at Carolina mountains, her beauty screamed Manhattan.
    The drab flight suit accentuated her coloring as well as her shapely curves. He read the name tag above her right breast. Damn, he should have picked the Coast Guard instead of signing on to be all that he could be, to quote his army recruiter.
    He gestured with his mug. “With that red mane my money would have been on green eyes.” He pulled out the chair across the table from her and settled onto it. “That was mighty fine flying I saw you pull off, Lieutenant Stone. I’m Dr. Stillman Gray.” He held his hand out. She rewarded him with a firm grasp of long fingers and soft skin. Her smile said she liked what she saw.
    “Caitlyn,” she replied. Her eyes narrowed and she made a
tsk
ing sound. “Imagine that, a doctor in a doctor’s lounge.” She fluttered her fingers at his chest. “I thought you guys were supposed to wear stethoscopes around your necks so you didn’t look like orderlies.”
    “I’m off duty,” he replied and studied her face. Not an ounce of makeup marred her perfect complexion and phenomenal bone structure. Freckles dusted her nose and cheeks, adding to her natural beauty. He sipped his coffee and hid the resulting grimace behind his mug. God, this stuff needed a warning label.
    “As for my flying—” she shrugged as if she’d merely pulled into a parking space at the mall “—it’s just another day at the office. Hey, maybe you can help me.” Her eyes lit up as she deftly re-braided her shoulder-length hair.
    Stillman forced his attention away from the uniform that now stretched tightly over her plentiful, but oh-thank-God-they’re-real breasts. Instead, he took her cup and looked at the half-inch of oily-black liquid. “How many of these have you had?”
    Her smile drew his attention to full lips and made him forget all about his fifteen-hour shift and lack of sleep. And that thought led to bed, and to his lack of female companionship since long before his hasty move from New York. He could use a diversion. Especially a redheaded one.
    She smacked his hand away from her cup and grabbed it back. “Not nearly enough.” Her head tilted and she narrowed her eyes. “Are you friends with a Dr. Golden? He’s a big-time plastic surgeon. Owns this huge yacht—”
    In no mood for discussing plastic doctors, or the shallow plastic people they attracted, he stood abruptly. His chair squealed a protest across the floor. “No, sorry, can’t say I am.” In a bikini, she’d make a hell of a fine deck ornament on some rich bastard’s yacht, he’d give her that.
    He ignored her startled expression and eyed her more critically. Whatever she’d had done had been first-rate. He’d grown up with examples of his father and grandfather’s handiwork, knew the kind of quality money could buy.
    “Looking for a reference?” He scanned her chest. “Maybe a breast augmentation to become
Military Times
’s next centerfold?”
    She surged to her feet. “Wait just a darn minute, Mr. Hyde. I don’t give a rat’s butt what you think, however, to give credit where credit’s due, how I look doesn’t come from an injection or scalpel. What I’ve got came from my mama and daddy’s genes. And the only reason I asked about the doctor—well, you don’t need to know because I can see you don’t give a flip about anything except your own inflated ego.”
    She spun around and stormed out of the lounge without a backward glance.
    Her abrupt departure, combined with the long hours and the gruesome evening, crashed down upon him, leaving Stillman hollow and as bitter as the coffee burning a hole in his gut. He rubbed his face and rotated his head to try to ease the tightness in his neck muscles. Yeah, he was overreacting to the lieutenant’s reference to a plastic surgeon. It wasn’t like it mattered one way or another, but why the hell couldn’t he seem to get away from his father’s legacy of greed?
    * * *
    Caitlyn barreled right into Ryan.