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"Rematch"

by Dorothy Franklin
with generous coaching and editing from Kay Linne

Chapter 1. Thursday

Vibrations from the 737's engines shook the Navy letterhead as Lieutenant Jordan O'Neil read her orders once more. She grinned with anticipation. Only two weeks since she'd completed the SEAL/CRT selection program, and she had already been assigned to a team. She wasn't scheduled to report to her new commanding officer for another six days, but she had rushed through her prep so that she could arrive in Florida early. She wanted to talk with a certain master chief down there, and was giving herself time in case he proved elusive.

The plane landed smoothly. With no baggage to claim, Jordan passed quickly through the terminal and picked up her rental car. She was on personal leave and didn't want to be obligated to the Navy until it was time to report the following Wednesday. She felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. She'd forgotten how pleasant it could be to wear civvies.

She checked her watch. Oh nine thirty. She couldn't check in to the motel until late afternoon. She had some errands to do, but first she wanted to see if she could make a lunch date. Two weeks had passed since she'd last seen the chief. Working with him had been difficult, but at the end they'd made a good connection. Now she wanted to find out whether that connection had stamina. She found the slip of paper where she'd written his office phone number, and punched the digits into her cell phone.

The ringing seemed interminable. "Urgayle," came the familiar voice.

"Hello, Master Chief. It's Lieutenant O'Neil. I'm back down from Washington and wanted to check in with you."

"O'Neil?" Clearly she'd caught Urgayle by surprise. He grunted. "Come back to cause more trouble?"

She chuckled. He was as friendly as ever. "I missed you, too," she replied. She knew he would not appreciate small talk so she went right to the point. "I'd like to talk with you. I have some questions and I think you're the best person to ask." She paused. "Are you available for lunch today? I apologize for the late notice; wasn't sure when I could get down here."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "No, ma'am. I'm tied up." Jordan's quick disappointment was cut short as Urgayle continued, "But dinner is open." He hesitated briefly. "Think you're tough enough to survive my cooking?"

Surprised, she laughed. "Sure, Master Chief, when and where?"

Jack Urgayle looked at the kitchen clock as he slid the roasting pan into the oven. Eighteen fifteen. "Forty-five minutes before she gets here," he muttered to himself. "What the hell was I thinking?" He checked his T-shirt and khaki pants for evidence of spills or spatters, did a minimal kitchen cleanup, and limped into the living room. He cast a critical eye over the half-finished projects near the windows, but wasn't willing to put them away just to protect them from his visitor. If she looked, she looked.

Turning on the stereo, he collapsed on the couch as the opening chords of a Tschaikovsky piano concerto thundered from the speakers. He'd traded his lunch hour for an extended physical therapy session, and his leg was complaining bitterly. Elevating the offending limb on a well-used stack of pillows, he willed himself to relax.

In his mind he saw the lieutenant as he had first met her, in her fatigues, with that ridiculous long hair. He had pegged her immediately as a first-day washout. "I should have been so lucky," he groaned, remembering her foot making contact with his crotch. She was tough, he had to give her that. Not bad looking, either, even with her head shaved. An image of her in the shower came unbidden, and he pushed it away automatically.

His mind replaced the picture of her wet torso with images from the SERE training camp: his hand striking O'Neil, her body slamming into a tree, her struggle to stay on her feet, her final defiant stance with blood streaming from her face. "Damn." Though he was not prone to second-guessing himself, that was a day he would not mind erasing. He closed his eyes, lacing his fingers behind his head, and leaned back. He accepted that his job sometimes included physically assaulting the trainees, but this was different. He'd never hit a woman before. His dad had drilled it home early that you didn't hit women. The fact that she had given him almost as good as she got didn't make it feel right. He never wanted to be put in that position again.

He could have been royally pissed off at O'Neil for causing so much aggravation, but he knew she wasn't really the problem. She had earned her SEAL/CRT insignia. She'd worked as hard as any of the men--harder than most. She had courage. And brains. He liked that. Stubborn as hell, and a bit of a smartass, but all business when it mattered. He'd learned to respect her, and that mess in Libya had shown he could count on her in a difficult situation.

All in all, she was the toughest woman he'd ever met. A warrior. Most women he'd known wouldn't take that as a compliment but he had the feeling the lieutenant would thank him for saying it. He grinned. She was more interesting than any other woman he could remember, though there was something about her that made him uncomfortable. Perhaps that was a good thing. Keep him on his toes. He was curious to know what she wanted to talk about. With a small smile, he closed his eyes and let the music carry him away. Maybe, just maybe, this evening wouldn't be too bad after all.

At the appointed hour, Jordan stood on Urgayle's doorstep with a bottle of wine in hand. She paused before knocking and smoothed her slacks. She half expected that the door, once opened, would be slammed back in her face, and unconsciously straightened to attention.

Jack rose from his couch, stowed the pillows, and turned the music down a bit before answering the summons. "Come in, Lieutenant." His lips twitched as he saw what she'd done with her hair as it was growing out. It was a bit spiky, though not unattractive.

"Thank you for agreeing to talk with me, Master Chief." As Jordan's eyes left his, she surveyed the room. On the right, several bookcases struggled to contain the volumes crowding their shelves. Not surprising given what she knew of Urgayle. But her jaw dropped when she saw the easel set up near the living room windows, with several paintings leaning on the wall next to it. The canvases were large and sprawling, unfinished, full of color and life. No pastels here, but not the blood and war subjects she might have expected either.

Jack saw her staring at the paintings. "I know it's a mess. I'm in the middle of a couple of projects."

"I didn't know you painted."

"I'm a dilettante. Took a class once. But I paint just for myself. Helps me relax." He changed the subject. "Is that wine chilled, Lieutenant, or is it just for show?"

He made an effort to conceal his limp as he headed for the kitchen. Jordan noticed but chose not to comment. She handed him the cold bottle and set her handbag on one end of the counter. "You can call me Jordan, Master Chief."

Furrowing his brow, he weighed the consequences of using her given name. Finally he nodded. "Okay, Jordan." Picking up the corkscrew, he turned to her thoughtfully. "My friends call me Jack."

Suddenly feeling shy, Jordan averted her eyes. "Something sure smells good."

"Chicken's in the oven. It needs to cook another 40 minutes." Jack opened the bottle of wine and poured two glasses, handing one to Jordan. "I could use some fresh air. Join me outside."

She followed him into the small back yard. A neatly trimmed lawn contrasted with bushes growing wild along the fence. Two Adirondack chairs sat on either side of a small wooden table. One was paired with a second table topped with a faded cushion. Jordan sat in the other chair while Jack carefully set down his wine glass, eased himself into place and propped up his leg. He relaxed and let her make the next move.

She broke the silence. "Looks like you're getting around well. I heard you'll be back to full duty in a few months?"

"Hope so," Jack replied. "No combat duty for at least six months, but I should be able to start training again sooner. The other instructors can cover any heavy physical stuff." He turned to her. "But that's not why you wanted to talk to me." His gaze directed her to get to the point.

"You're right," she acknowledged. She took a long breath and spoke with determination. "I didn't go looking to join the CRT, but I always wanted the chance to serve in combat. So when this opportunity was offered to me I took it." Her eyes shone as she turned to him. "The course opened up a whole new world for me. The training and the mission made everything else I've done pale in comparison. I want to continue. So I've threatened and bullied my way into an assignment and I'm going to give it everything I've got." She paused. "But I know I'm walking into unknown territory without a map. I can work it out as I go, but I think my chance of success is better if I have some sort of guide."

She caught his eye again. "That's why I wanted to talk with you, Jack." She used his given name deliberately. "I'm looking for a mentor, a friend, someone who can give me a reality check."

Jack grunted. "I'm no fucking mentor." Jordan heard the gruffness in his voice and chose to read it as an opening.

"Your advice could be a great help to me." She paused. "I've talked with Wickwire and McCool, and they've told me what they know. But they don't know much more than I do. It was Wick who suggested I talk with you."

"Wick sent you to me?" he snorted. "I need to talk to that boy." But he didn't deny her request. They sat in silence a few moments.

"So what's this about an assignment?" he finally asked.

"I report to Captain Kurt Sehloff in six days. I guess he wants to talk with me before I head for jump school and advanced training. Not sure what his agenda is. I understand you worked with him?"

"Kurt and I were in the same BUD/S class almost thirteen years ago. We worked together several years. He's a good man. The best. Tough as nails, but fair. His platoons see a lot of action."

"I know it's going to be difficult at first. I don't know him or anyone on his team, and I can guess they're not eager to have a woman joining them." Jordan wrinkled her nose.

"Advanced training is going to be just as hard as the selection course you just completed. You'll have to prove yourself to your new team. Everyone has to. You'll just meet more resistance than most." Jack could guess what she'd be up against. "Shouldn't have to fight the way you did in training, but it won't be easy." That brought the images of Jordan's bleeding face back to his mind, and he shook his head to clear them. He did not share his thoughts with trainees, but he found himself wanting to explain his actions. He folded his arms across his chest and glanced skyward, as though searching for guidance. She was no longer in his class. Maybe talking about this would help clear some of that crap out of his head. He sighed and turned back toward her.

"They're going to give you a hard time, Lieutenant, but I believe you can handle it. They'll think they can scare you off, just as I thought I could chase you out of my class." He snorted. "Hell, I expected you to drop out the first day. And every day after that I was sure would be your last." He looked at her with a hint of a smile. "I kept figuring you were just too damned stubborn to realize you weren't going to make it. I guess I was wrong. You did all right for yourself." He paused and reflected. His voice became more serious. "I pulled out all the stops in the SERE exercise. It was my last chance to prove that you didn't belong."

Jordan raised her eyebrows. She had not expected the master chief to be so candid.

"You took everything I could dish out and came back at me like a fury," he continued. "It's been quite a while since I was last taken down by a trainee." He unconsciously rubbed the bridge of his nose as he remembered how she'd briefly turned the tables on him. "You did me a favor, you know," he said, shaking his head. "I'd put myself up against a wall with the rape threat. I wasn't sure it would get to you but I was certain it would throw the guys over the edge. When it didn't work I realized I didn't have a backup plan." He almost smiled. "I guess you created one for me."

Jordan nodded, grateful for this chance to clear the air. "I guessed as much. I didn't think you would go through with it but I didn't see any easy way for you to back down either. I knew I had to rescue myself. I just kept ragging on you and watched for a moment when you had your attention on the men."

A thought came to her. "But I didn't just get lucky there, did I? You left me an opening." She looked at him with curiosity. "Was that calculated? Or did you underestimate me?"

"I'm no fool," Jack replied, rolling his eyes. "Either way I answer that question, you're going to give me shit for not taking you seriously enough." Jordan nodded agreement. "Well, truth is I did underestimate you. No way I would have left you that opening if I'd thought you were in any condition to see it and use it." Another perspective occurred to him. "That could be an advantage for you in combat, you know. You want your teammates to respect you. And your attacker to underestimate you."

"And in Libya?" Jordan knew she was treading on tender ground. "Could it have given me a similar edge there?"

Jack had expected this subject to come up at some point. "Is that why you wanted to talk with me today?"

"One reason, yes. The biggest reason?" She thought a moment. "Possibly yes to that too."

He turned away, shaking his head thoughtfully. If it were one of the men asking he'd tell him to get over it and move on. But he decided to give the lieutenant some slack on this one. "I know you think I was more protective because you're female. I don't know. Maybe it's true. But I've gone over that mission a hundred times, and the odds were not in your favor. He heard you whispering. He was suspicious and had his gun drawn. Yes, you might have taken him down silently. Or he might have fired his gun before going down. Or he might have made an escape. Or he might have killed or injured you. Only one of those possibilities was an improvement over the sure solution."

"And if it had been Wickwire or McCool or Slovnik instead of me?"

Jack replied steadily, "Wick and McCool both have several years of combat experience. They also outweigh you almost 2 to 1. I would have bet on them. Slovnik is more green but he's an insane fighter. If he'd sounded calm I might have taken the chance. But with any guy who hadn't had combat experience, I would have made the same call I made with you. The stakes were too high."

He looked at her directly. "Jordan, you need to let go of this one. You're tough, you're fast, you're smart as a whip. You're never going to be able to carry a 220-pound guy on your shoulder. But your topo skills and intel experience will be a plus for any team. There will be other jobs you can do better than anyone else. You're going to have to give them the opportunity to figure out how to use you best." He thought a moment and added. "Just don't expect them to fall in line on the first day. Some of your new teammates may be even more stubborn than I was."

"Thanks, Master Chief." Jordan unconsciously slipped back to a more formal address. "I'm sorry to dwell on this. But I've fought so hard to get this far. I'm not afraid of getting hurt. But the thought of becoming the team cook just because the guys can't trust a woman ... that would kill me."

"Not feeling sorry for yourself, are you, Lieutenant?" Jack spoke half seriously, half teasing.

She looked at him and grinned. "No, Master Chief." After a moment's hesitation, she dropped her eyes, adding sheepishly, "well, yes, a bit. Thanks for calling me on it." She turned back to him. "So what else can you tell me about CaptainSehloff? Did you actually go on any missions together?"

This was a subject Jack felt more comfortable with, and he launched into a long, convoluted tale of a difficult personnel recovery during the Gulf War. Jordan kept him going with her questions. He was well into his second story when the oven timer sounded.

"Chicken's done, Jordan," Jack said. "Hungry?"

She grinned. "After hearing you talk about living on nothing but scorpions for a week, I'm starving! You're not sending me away with an empty stomach, not when it smells so good." They picked up their wine glasses and headed for the kitchen.

"Help me make some salad while this cools," Jack said as he pulled the chicken from the oven.

"Sure. Wow, that's beautiful! Where'd you learn to cook like that?" Jordan admired the roasted chicken squatting on its nest of red potatoes. She looked up at Jack in time to see a brief look of embarrassment cross his face.

"Hell, it's easy. I cook it all the time. My sister taught me. Said the girls would love it." A mischievous smile made a brief appearance. "You just stick the chicken on this rack, throw some red potatoes around it, bake the whole thing about an hour and a half. She said if you really want to impress someone, you sprinkle on some rosemary before you put it in the oven."

"Well?"

"Well what?" He looked puzzled.

"So did you sprinkle on the rosemary tonight?" Jordan asked, grinning widely. Her nose had already told her the answer.

Jack snorted. "Well if you must know, I did." He looked defensive. "Force of habit. I always add the rosemary."

"Oh, of course," she replied with a smile. As though speaking to herself she added, "a man who cooks. With herbs. A surprise around every corner."

Now it was Jack's turn to grin. "Don't worry, Jordan. For every surprise you might learn to like, I'm sure I could come up with a dozen more you'd hate." He started pulling vegetables out of the refrigerator and tossing them at her.

"No doubt." She caught a flying head of lettuce and set it on the counter. "You know, Jack, I don't think I've ever seen you smile before tonight. Looks good on you. You should do it more often."

His response was a volley of carrots, cucumber, tomato and avocado, timed so that she had to shut her mouth and concentrate on catching the airborne veggies. Conversation turned to the serious business of food preparation, and they soon sat down to a good meal.

Jordan figured she'd try to keep the dinner talk off herself for a while. "That brace looks lighter than the one you were wearing last time I saw you. And no cane. Looks like you're doing well with the PT?"

"Hmmph. Yeah, it's okay. Glad to get rid of the cane." Frowning, he redirected the conversation. "So what's going on back in D.C. with this 'women in combat' business? Do I need to prepare myself and the boys for a busload of crazy women like you?"

"Hell, no, Master Chief," she grinned. "I'm one of a kind."

He rolled his eyes, lips twitching. "I knew that."

"Seriously," she continued. "I was a test case who was supposed to fail. It was all political bullshit. They never intended to open up combat positions to women -- and especially not special forces."

"So you messed up their master plan?" Jack preferred to ignore the machinations of the upper echelons and Congress whenever possible.

"Not really. I'm like a tick on an elephant, more of an irritant than a threat. Truth is they don't know what the hell to do with me. They'd be happy if I disappeared back into some office somewhere and they never heard my name again. But I fought too hard to get this far. So I traded them my silence for an assignment. Sink or swim. If I got lost at sea they'd breathe a sigh of relief." She paused and grinned crookedly. "Makes me wonder what Sehloff did to deserve me."

"Hmm. Good point. I'll have to ask him." He furrowed his brow. "But why does your silence matter? I'm surprised you weren't just stuck back in a box somewhere whether you liked it or not."

Jordan's grin took on a mischievous twist. "Do you know how many media folks have contacted me for my story? Some producer even wanted to do a movie about my experience, wanted to call it 'G.I. Jane' if you can believe that. He couldn't even get straight the difference between the Army and the Navy." She snorted. "No, Senator DeHaven and the Navy brass would like me to be a nice quiet girl until all this blows over. It was the only card I had left, so I played it."

She sighed, her face becoming sober again. "They're giving me one chance. If I can complete advanced training and keep a low profile, I can work with the CRT indefinitely. But one screwup, even a small one, and I'll be busted back to an office in a heartbeat."

"Hmmmph. The more I learn about politics the more grateful I am to be posted well away from Washington." It was the closest he had come to a sympathetic comment, and Jordan appreciated the effort.

"Yeah. Me too." She dug into her chicken. "This is a great meal, Jack. Thanks for having me over."

For a while conversation took a back seat to dinner. When they'd eaten their fill, Jack headed into the kitchen with the plates and silverware. Jordan followed him with the serving dishes. She started loading the dishwasher while he put away the food. They worked efficiently and the kitchen was soon ready for inspection.

Jordan glanced at the wall clock. "Whoa! Almost 2130 hours. Didn't realize we were talking so long. I need to head back to the motel. I have a phone call to make before it gets too late."

She caught a look of disappointment flash across Jack's face. "How much longer are you in town?" he asked.

"Five more days." She hesitated. "Would you have time to get together again?"

"Hmmm...." He stalled for time, wondering whether her interest extended beyond discussing Navy business. "I'm free tomorrow evening. I was thinking about going to see this movie some of the guys at the base were talking about." He watched for her response.

"What's the movie?"

"It's called 'Hidalgo.' About a cowboy who races his horse in Arabia. Sounds far-fetched, I know, but I'm a sucker for an old-fashioned adventure story. Like to join me?" He tried to act as though her answer didn't matter.

"I haven't seen a movie in months." She paused briefly. "Sure, sounds like fun. I'm going to be running around tomorrow, be hard to catch. How about if I look up the show times and call you in the morning to confirm?" She avoided using the word "date." Didn't want to scare the master chief.

"Okay." Jack realized he was still trying to pretend that he didn't care whether she went or not. Maybe he needed to act a little more pleased? It was hard to figure out which persona he was supposed to wear around this woman. "I'll look forward to it."

Jordan picked up her handbag, pulling out a small package wrapped in brown paper. She followed Jack to the door, where she handed him the package. "Here. I wanted you to have this."

Surprised, Jack took the package and opened it carefully. The Collected Works of William Blake. He looked at her, at a loss for words.

Jordan wasn't sure how to interpret the look. "Is it okay? Do you already have it?"

"Yes, it's great. And no, I don't already have it." Jack smiled. "I have excerpts from his 'Songs of Innocence' in one of my anthologies but would like to read more." He gazed at Jordan, lost in thought for a moment. "You guess well." He remembered his manners. "Thank you."

Jordan smiled, "You're welcome. I've enjoyed your D.H. Lawrence book a lot. But Blake is my all-time favorite." She could see he felt awkward. She reached out and touched his arm. At the same time she lifted her chin just enough to bring her into direct eye contact.

It had been some time since Jack last dated, but he still recognized the invitation. His injured leg felt a little wobbly under him, so he leaned against the door jamb to steady himself. He reached out and cupped Jordan's chin in his hand as he bent his face toward hers. Unexpectedly, she flinched at his approach. He stopped, surprised, and backed off. He had many years of experience reading people's faces. He could have sworn he saw a sudden wariness in her eyes. He frowned, puzzled.

Jordan's own reaction caught her off balance as well. She didn't even notice that he had not kissed her. She immediately headed out the door. After a few steps she caught herself, paused briefly and turned back. "Thanks again for dinner, Jack. I'll call you in the morning." She continued to her car, outwardly calm but fighting an inexplicable desire to bolt. She stuffed down the feelings firmly and headed back to the motel.

Jack stood in the doorway staring after her long after the car's taillights disappeared. He shook his head as he turned and walked back into the house. Life had just become a little more complicated. What surprised him was that he didn't really mind. Maybe being stuck behind a desk all day had made him crave a bit of unpredictability.

He stopped in the living room, drawn to his paintings. For the first time since being injured, he felt the urge to pick up a brush. Time to exorcise some ghosts. He got out his paints and brushes, found a fresh canvas, and went to work, humming softly.

Chapter 2. Friday

Jordan yawned and stretched idly. Ever since SEAL/CRT training, an 0600 wakeup seemed like sheer luxury. She slipped out for a long run near the waterfront, picking up a newspaper from the motel office on the way back. "Hmmm. Looks as though this showing at 1845 hours should be just perfect. We could grab a quick dinner first." She called Jack at home and they agreed he would pick her up at the motel after work.

With that out of the way, she did her calisthenics on the motel room floor and enjoyed a leisurely shower followed by breakfast at a nearby cafe. At 0900 she called Lt. Kathy Blondell to confirm their lunch date. Kathy, physician for the training program, was the only one who knew that Jordan was in town early to see the master chief.

Pulling out her laptop, Jordan used the next few hours to catch up with email and letters to friends. Shortly before 1130, she headed toward a little hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant well off base. Given the fraternization charges that had been leveled at them, she and Lt. Blondell were hoping that their lunch rendezvous would go unobserved by the Navy. She found a good table and kept her eyes open for the doctor's arrival. "Kathy! Over here!"

Kathy grinned. "Jordan! Good to see you!" They shared a quick hug before she sat down. Giving their orders to the waitress, they began a long-awaited catch-up on each other's activities.

"So how was your trip back home, Jordan?"

Jordan rolled her eyes. "The last couple of weeks in Washington were almost as tough as the training. My family and friends think I'm crazy; my boyfriend and I split up. And all I could think of was getting back here. After the CRT course and our little adventure in Libya, my old world seems so quiet and boring." She grinned. "I've become an adrenalin addict."

"You split up with Royce?" Kathy was surprised. "He sounded like a sweet guy."

"Oh, he is sweet." Jordan shook her head. "I'm going to miss him. We've both seen this coming for a while, but it was still hard to let go. He wants -- and deserves -- someone who can be there for him, not off in the middle of nowhere doing god knows what." She paused. "Frankly, Kathy, I'm relieved that he felt that way, because it made it easier to tell him that I was no longer in love with him. He was loving and supportive, yes, but only as long as I was willing to plan my life around his. I finally realized we need to go our separate ways."

"Hmmm. Royce is out of the picture. So did you get anywhere with Master Chief Urgayle last night?" Kathy asked with a grin.

Jordan sputtered on her iced tea. "What's that supposed to mean?" She glared at her friend. "I told you I was asking him for advice, not a date."

"Hey, back off, girl. I was teasing." Kathy bit her tongue to keep from laughing. "But you sure got your knickers in a twist over such an innocent comment."

Jordan relented. "You're right, of course. I should keep that man at a safe distance, but there's something about him that's hard to resist." She had to come clean with her friend. "Since you asked... we're going to a movie tonight." She grinned sheepishly.

"Ahah! I knew it," Kathy chortled. "You're an alpha female and you're looking for the alpha male." She snorted. "And no one is more fucking alpha than the master chief." She grinned as Jordan made a face in her direction. "You know I'm right."

"Alpha he is," Jordan acknowledged. "And we had a good talk last night. He was surprisingly helpful. But I'm still being cautious, Kathy. Only five weeks ago he was beating the shit out of me. You remember what I looked like after that session. I know that was in the line of duty. Any idea whether he makes a habit of that in his off hours?"

Kathy responded to the seriousness of the question. "I've only been here two years, but I've never heard any complaints about him, inside or outside of class. Clean record, no complaints of inappropriate or abusive behavior. General rap is that he's tough but fair." She paused. "Some of the trainers have a mean streak. I don't get that impression about Urgayle. If anything, he's too conscientious, too tough on himself. He's all about duty."

She thought a moment and looked at Jordan. "But keep your eyes open, girl. Some instructors are better than others at separating their jobs from their private lives. Don't forget what he's capable of."

Jordan nodded. "Pretty much what I've been thinking. Is he seeing anyone?"

"Not that I know of. Certainly no one on base. He keeps to himself. They say it's because he wants his trainer chief persona to be considered omnipotent, unapproachable. Me, I think he's kinda lonely."

"Hard to tell. He seems pretty self-sufficient." Jordan gave her friend a warm smile. "Thanks, Kathy. I'll keep you posted."

"You'd better, Jordan!" Kathy grinned. "I'm going to expect regular updates."

Lunch arrived and the conversation turned to the latest news and rumors from the base. When Kathy's lunch hour was over, they parted reluctantly.

The knock came on Jordan's motel room door just as she was checking her hair and applying a bit of lipstick. A quick scan confirmed that her French-cut T-shirt and jeans were in order. She grabbed a light jacket and met Jack at the door.

He nodded his head toward the black 4Runner parked next to her rental car. "Ready for round two?"

She grinned. "Hooyah, Master Chief. I'm starved."

They headed for Jack's favorite pizza joint. "It's crowded and noisy, but they have the best pizza," he assured her. Crowded was okay with Jordan. She still felt awkward around Jack, and the noise level would keep the conversation light.

Sure enough, the place was full of people laughing and talking, and Jordan felt right at home. It reminded her of the old Shakey's in her home town, where her parents could take the whole family out for dinner and still stay within their budget. After they placed their order, she shared that bit of family history with Jack, telling him what it was like to grow up with three older brothers.

"I followed them everywhere. They taught me to climb trees, ride horses, fight with wooden swords, catch snakes. I was welcome as long as I didn't slow them down." She laughed. "I guess you have my brothers to blame for me ending up in your class." Jordan turned to her enigmatic date. "How about you, Jack? Brothers or sisters?"

"One younger sister. She lives in Oregon, so I don't see her as often as I'd like."

Just then the pizza arrived. They collected family backgrounds as they munched their way through the pepperoni, mushrooms and olives, and the easy conversation continued as they drove to the movie.

Hidalgo proved to be as good as they'd hoped. Jack forgot himself enough to laugh with the crowd. When Frank's family jewels were threatened, Jordan placed her hand on Jack's and grinned impishly up at him. He turned his hand over to clasp hers, palm to palm. "Good thing those Arabs didn't have you workin' for 'em," he whispered. Their hands remained together, fingers chatting idly, for the rest of the film.

After the movie, they walked slowly back to Jack's vehicle, enthusiastically recounting their favorite scenes. "Motel or my place?" Jack asked. "No chicken tonight but I can probably find some pretzels if you're hungry."

With only a few more days in town, Jordan decided to seize the moment. "All I have at the motel is some chewing gum I found stuck to the bedpost," she grinned. "Pretzels beat that hands down."

They were both grateful to have the movie to talk about. It kept the conversation flowing comfortably through the drive back to Jack's house. After he parked the car he sat for a moment, gathering resolve, and turned to her as though he had something to ask. Then he changed his mind and dropped it. He ushered Jordan into the house, leaving her wondering what was on his mind.

"Something to drink?" he asked as he headed slowly into the kitchen. "There's beer, wine, sodas, scotch."

Jordan noticed his limp getting worse as the day grew later. "A beer sounds good," she replied. She stole a look at his CD collection. "Mind if I put on some music?"

Jack poked his head around the corner into the living room. "Go ahead, pick out something quiet."

She browsed the titles. "Auntie Christ. What's this?" she asked. And what was it doing in with classical and opera, she wondered.

"I said 'quiet.'" He appeared behind her shoulder. "That's a punk rock band. Good stuff but I think I'd prefer something a little less exciting right now." He handed her a bottle of beer, setting a glass of scotch and a bag of pretzels on the coffee table.

She slipped Miles Davis' "Tutu" into the player before following him to their seat. He was already settling on the left end of the couch, propping his injured leg on some pillows that were piled on the end of the coffee table. He patted the couch to his right, smiling up at her. Rare as they were, she thought, Jack's smiles were worth waiting for. They should be classified as weapons. Feeling weak in the knees, she wondered if she should leave while she still could. But instead she sat on the couch next to him, leaving four careful inches of separation.

The soft strains of Miles' muted trumpet sidled through the room. "'Tutu', eh?" he asked. "Good choice."

"You have quite a collection of music," she replied. "A lot of artists I've never heard of. I could spend all day exploring." She was thinking of other things about him she would like to explore, but didn't know quite how to make the opening.

Jack was thinking the same thing about Jordan. He prided himself on reading people well, but his accuracy about her had been appalling. He had assumed even before he met her that she was a woman with a political mission, more interested in the limelight than the real work of the CRT. Tonight's movie had reminded him how wrong he'd been.

"You know that guy Frank in the movie? He reminded me of you," Jack said, turning to face her.

Jordan was surprised. She'd actually been thinking he looked a bit like Jack. "In what way?"

"Well, he was the odd man out in the group. All the other competitors had their egos all wrapped up in their Arab heritage and their pure-blooded horses and couldn't conceive that a cowboy on a mongrel mustang could compete on an even footing. Hell, they were offended that he was in their presence." He smiled. "Sound familiar?"

"Cortez," she answered with a grin. "Slovnik." And Urgayle, she added silently.

Jack nodded. "He hadn't come to make a statement about mustangs or Americans or anything. He wasn't looking to be treated special. He just wanted a chance to race." He paused. "After all this time I think I'm finally starting to understand where you've been coming from." He grinned sheepishly. "Just don't tell anyone it took a movie to get the point through my thick skull."

"Not a word, Jack." Smiling, she reached out her hand to him. "I hadn't thought about the movie that way, but I see what you mean. I liked that Frank character. He was as tough as he needed to be, but not mean. I'll take that as a compliment."

Jack took her hand in his left. He started to stretch his right hand toward her shoulder, then paused. Her reaction to his advances the night before still bothered him. He looked at her, puzzled. "Last night, when I ... you pulled away when I moved toward you."

Jordan wished she could deny it, but she knew he would see right through her. After a long hesitation, she replied slowly. "Yes. But it wasn't because I didn't want you to touch me. It was the way you cupped my chin in your hand." She held out her hand, mimicking his gesture, then turned and met his eyes. "The last time you made a move like that, you were steadying me for a blow that slammed me into a tree." She paused, unsure what his reaction would be. "When the memory came up, I lost my balance for a few moments."

Shaking his head, Jack let out a sigh. "Damn." He withdrew his right hand, keeping his left in soft contact. "Do you want me to back off?"

Jordan studied him quietly. Despite their rough history, she felt no threat from him tonight. "No," she replied. "I'd like you to hold me." Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he drew her toward him. She snugged in tight, hip to hip, took a deep breath, and laid her head on his shoulder, her right hand on his chest. She enjoyed the feel of his solid body next to hers.

They sat quietly together for a few minutes. When Jack spoke again his voice was low and gruff. "I did what I had to do, Jordan. I didn't enjoy it. It wasn't easy to hit you, watch you stagger and bleed."

She appreciated how hard it was for him to say this. Reaching up, she touched his cheek. Gently wrapping his hand around hers, he brought their hands to his chest.

After a few more moments of silence, she responded. "Don't forget, it was my doing too. I pushed you, I mouthed off, I taunted you." Raising her head, she turned to look at him. "Don't you see? I had to make sure you dealt every card you had in your hand. It had become the only way I could have any credibility with you or my team. We were in that POW camp because my guys wouldn't follow my orders. How could I be an effective leader if they thought I was soft?"

Jack absorbed her statement. Until now he had assumed he was in full control of that interrogation.

She took a long breath. "You asked me that day whether I thought you should go easy on women. I said no. I needed you to do your worst. If you had refused to interrogate me, if you had behaved kindly toward me, it would have been a sign of disrespect." She met his eyes again. "You gave me a chance to find out how much I could take, to prove how strong I could be." She paused. "I won't thank you for the beating but I recognize the opportunity that came along with it."

Returning her head to his shoulder, she allowed a few moments for her words to sink in. Then her mouth twisted mischievously. "As I recall, I hurt you too, Jack. And at the time I did take some satisfaction from it. I hope you don't take that personally." Raised her head, she caught his eye again. "Have you considered wearing a steel codpiece when I'm around?"

For a moment Jack was stunned into silence. Then he exploded, laughing until tears came to his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so surprised by anyone. He shook his head in wonder. "Perhaps I should, Lieutenant. Perhaps I should. I'll review my options." He continued to chuckle at the thought.

Jordan was grinning too. She wasn't ignoring that brief flashback. She'd already made a mental note to talk with the base psychologist about post-traumatic stress disorder when she had her routine psych check on Monday. She just wasn't ready to dive into it with Jack. She didn't think he would deliberately betray her. But if he helpfully dropped a hint about PTSD to Sehloff, she could find herself fighting that much harder for respect from her new captain. She was glad to move the conversation along. Besides, there was something else she wanted from the master chief.

"So Jack," she said, "we've strayed from our path here. As I recall, you were thinking about kissing me. Then you made the mistake of bringing up our sordid history." She touched her tongue to her parted lips. "Can we get back to business?"

Jack didn't say a word. He gazed at Jordan with the barest hint of a smile. With his left hand he traced a feathery line from her temple down to her chin, while his right hand cradled the back of her head. He bent his head and slowly laid a trail of tender kisses along her jaw and down her neck. When his mouth finally returned to meet her lips, she responded eagerly. All of the desire they shared was channeled into a hungry meeting of lips and tongue, gradually slowing to a series of soft, wet kisses.

Jordan was the first to break. She purred contentedly. "Mmm. That's more like it."

Jack planted one last kiss on her nose. "I do have one more question," he said, smiling. "I want to know whether fraternizing was part of your original mentor plan."

She laughed, making a face at him. "In the plan? No. But I'd be lying if I said that the idea hadn't occurred to me. You are an attractive man, John James Urgayle. Just impossible to read or predict. Intriguing. Mesmerizing." She smiled and kissed him again. "What about you? Is this why you invited me here for dinner last night instead of meeting someplace safer?" She grinned mischievously.

"To be honest," Jack admitted, "I'd already bought the chicken and was too stubborn to change my plans. I didn't know what you were after, and didn't want to make any assumptions." He paused, adding soberly, "I still don't. Kissing is one thing, but a relationship is another. SEALs don't always make the best partners."

Jordan heard old wounds in his voice. "So what are the odds, Jack?"

He looked at her. "I don't know exactly, but from what I've observed I'm sure it's less than the 40% that make it through CRT training."

She thought a moment, and replied with a mischievous twist. "I suppose no one's tracked stats on intimate relationships between operators." She stressed the word "intimate" by lightly caressing his jaw.

Jack choked. "Not much data there." Trying to glare at her, he found it increasingly difficult to tap into his usual curmudgeonly self. Still, there was a serious side to this discussion. "I don't make a habit of worrying about what people do in their own bedrooms, but any relationship within a team could be deadly."

Jordan nodded. "Agreed. So if we take this any further we lose our ability to work on the same team." Impishly she added, "What's worse, I won't be able to take any more of your training courses."

She paused, the smile gone. "Same team or no, Jack, the Navy is going to want a say in this. Fraternization policy gives the C.O. some latitude for a situation like ours. For you he would likely look the other way. But they would love to find a way to get rid of me." She looked at him with a wry grin. "Do you think they'd notice the inconsistency in charging me with same-sex fraternization one month and becoming involved with you the next?"

He smiled but answered in a serious vein. "Yeah, that would put Salem in an interesting position. He and I get along pretty well, and on his own he might cut me some slack. But if he could score some points with the brass... hard to tell where he'd land."

Jack's voice softened. He rested his hand against her cheek. "Regulations aside, Jordan, and regardless of whether we take this any further, our getting to know each other has altered our working future. I would already find it difficult to work closely with you in a dangerous situation. It's not a lack of respect. In fact, the better I know you, the more confidence I have in your ability to take care of yourself." He stroked her short hair. "But at the same time I know how painful it would be for me to see you getting hurt." He shook his head. "My feelings for you could be a fatal weakness."

She drew his head toward hers and lightly kissed him again. "We've already crossed at least one line, haven't we?" She stopped and considered their situation. "I know my presence complicated your job. And now it seems we're trying to make the rest of our lives more complicated too." She looked at him. "Do you wish you'd never met me?"

Jack shook his head. "If you'd asked me that five or six weeks ago I probably would have said yes. But you've been good for me, Jordan. My world's a lot bigger because I met you." He grinned. "Yes, more complicated too. But I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad too." She ran a soft finger along his jaw, realizing how much she'd like to sink into his mouth again and not come up for a long time. If either she or Jack let their hands travel much below shoulder level, it would be hard to stop. "We have a lot to think about. I should get back to the motel before I get too comfortable here."

Jack nodded reluctantly. As with her, his desire was warring with his discipline, and the discipline was feeling ragged. "If that's what you want," he replied, his voice husky. "But you're welcome to stay."

Jordan summoned her resolve. "I'd like to, Jack. But I can't risk my career. We need to think this through."

With a sigh, he agreed. "Yeah, I'm afraid my brain isn't getting enough blood right now to be at its most effective." He smiled at her, a devilish gleam in his eyes. "Let's spend some time talking it through together. I have Saturday and Sunday free. Come away with me for the weekend." He paused to check the details in his mind. "I'll need to make a few calls in the morning, but I have an idea how we can get past the Navy's radar and relax for a couple of days."

She smiled. "I trust your organizational skills, Master Chief. The weekend is yours."

Somehow they found the discipline needed to tear themselves off the couch and return Jordan to her motel room. With another goodnight kiss at her doorstep and a promise to call her in the morning, Jack headed back to his noticeably emptier home.

Chapter 3. Saturday

Jordan woke early but lay in bed a few minutes longer than usual, taking advantage of her leisurely schedule to reflect on the past two days. She smiled as she remembered the previous evening. When she'd called the master chief on Thursday, she'd hoped that her attraction for him might be reciprocated, but she had never imagined that anything would develop so quickly. She had been looking forward to reporting for duty on Wednesday; now her eagerness was tempered by the thought that she might be leaving someone special behind. She stretched and pushed herself out of bed. Yes, life had become more complicated, but she wasn't complaining. She was looking forward to seeing what came next.

A long run to the marina and back, followed by a short swim in the motel pool, got her blood flowing and mind in focus. When she returned she had a message from Jack. "Pick you up at 0900. Pack light, bring swimsuit." She grinned as she looked at her watch. It was 0730 hours. She had a couple of phone calls to make, leaving her an hour to shower and find some breakfast.

At 0830 sharp she called her friend Lynn, an attorney for the Office of the Naval Inspector General in D.C. "Please be home," Jordan pleaded silently as the phone rang.

"Conner residence," came the familiar voice.

"Hi Lynn, it's Jordan."

"Jordan! Great to hear from you!"

"It's good to hear your voice again too. Have I caught you at a bad time?" Jordan asked.

"I'm getting ready to meet a friend for breakfast, but I can spare a few minutes. Have you started your new assignment yet?"

"Not until Wednesday," Jordan replied. "I came down to Florida a few days early to do a little advance research, and things have taken an unexpected turn." Taking a deep breath, she plunged into her story. "Remember the command master chief I mentioned, the SEAL/CRT trainer?"

"The one who beat you up?" Lynn replied. "How could I forget? I saw your face."

Jordan winced. "It wasn't personal. He does that to all the trainees."

"That makes it okay?" Lynn snorted. When Jordan didn't respond immediately, she added, "Sorry, Jordan, go ahead. What's on your mind?"

Jordan tried again. "I met with him Thursday night to ask his advice on my new assignment. He was surprisingly helpful, and..." she paused, "and well, we kind of hit it off. He invited me to go see a movie last night, and we ended up talking for a while and making out on his couch, if you can believe it."

"Goodness, woman, you are full of surprises," Lynn chuckled, shaking her head. "So I take it you are thinking about doing some further fraternizing with this man? And how can you be sure he's not going to beat you to a pulp again?"

"I've done some discreet checking. I don't think he's a danger to me, though I'll continue to keep my eyes open." Jordan paused. "I need to ask you for some legal advice, off the record, of course."

"Let me guess. You want to know how the Navy is going to look at you, an officer, fraternizing with an enlisted man, even one as high-ranking as a master chief, especially as he was your instructor until recently." Lynn paused. "Am I on the right track?"

Jordan smiled. "Spot on, as always. The class has been over for two weeks now, if that makes any difference."

"Who is your new commanding officer?"

"I report to Captain Kurt Sehloff, effective Monday, but I'm still on leave until Wednesday," Jordan replied.

"To whom does this master chief of yours report? And does the chief have a name, by the way?"

"His name is Urgayle, Jack Urgayle. He reports to Captain Salem, C.O. of the Catalano Naval Base here in Florida."

"Two different commands. That's in your favor, then. You're not going to be stationed at Catalano, are you?" Lynn continued to tick off her questions.

"No, ma'am, I'll be based at CRT headquarters in Virginia."

"Okay." Lynn paused. "Insert standard disclaimer here. This is not legal advice, merely the comments of a friend. Having said that, I feel pretty confident that what I'm about to say is accurate." She glanced quickly at the notes she'd taken before continuing.

"The regulations are designed to specify some clearly damaging behavior but also to leave room for interpretation to cover cases they didn't foresee. The commanding officer has some flexibility with cases that do not clearly fall on one side or the other.

"Since you and Urgayle are no longer in an instructor-student relationship and are not serving in the same unit or chain of command, I don't think that a relationship between you would be considered to meet the criterion of 'not respecting differences in rank and grade.'

"But the language is so open-ended that a person with an agenda could level a fraternization charge against you, as the officer involved. Sehloff is the key; he would have decision-making authority in your case. Likewise Salem would have authority with respect to Master Chief Urgayle." She reflected. "You could take your chances and ask forgiveness if caught, but I strongly recommend talking to your respective C.O.s first, especially since you haven't worked with Sehloff before. Does that help?"

"Lynn, you are awesome. Thank you." Jordan sent a warm smile through the telephone.

"Always glad to help, girlfriend. I wish I could talk more but I have about five minutes to get dressed and get out of here. Let me know how it goes, okay?" Lynn signed off briskly.

Jordan looked at the clock. Jack would be arriving in twenty minutes, leaving her time for one more call. Finding Lieutenant Blondell's home phone number in her address book, Jordan dialed, hoping to catch her at home.

"Blondell here," came the friendly but businesslike voice.

"Hi Kathy, it's Jordan. Thought I should check in with you before I take off for the weekend."

Kathy took the bait. "Where are you off to, Jordan?" She paused. "And should I ask, with whom?"

"The 'whom' is the master chief," Jordan answered, grinning. "As for the where, he hasn't told me yet. Somewhere we can 'get past the Navy's radar' is all he said." She braced for an explosion on the other end of the phone line.

"Heavens, Jordan." Kathy stopped in mid-sentence, hesitating to throw cold water on her friend's plans. "I want all the details, but first I have to ask, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"That's part of the reason I'm calling. I don't expect any problems, but I figured I would let someone know who I'm with, in case I don't return when expected." She paused. "Jack and I had a nice time yesterday. We went to his house after the movie and talked a while. We decided we'd like to get to know each other better, and I only have a few days before reporting to duty. Hence the weekend getaway." She grinned. "It all seemed like a good idea last night, anyway."

Kathy shook her head. "So he's 'Jack' now, eh?"

"What, you think I should keep calling him 'Master Chief'?" she chuckled. "It's okay, Kathy, really it is. I'll find a way to mention to him that someone knows he and I are spending the weekend together, but I won't mention your name. We'll be back Sunday night. If I don't show up or contact you by 9 a.m. Monday, feel free to notify the authorities. Tell them I've been staying in the Wayside Motel on Marine Drive. But please don't tell anyone otherwise. We're not sure how this would play against fraternization regulations, so we're silent running for now."

"Jordan, promise you'll call me Sunday evening as soon as you get in. I don't care how late it is. I'm going to want the whole story."

"I promise. Thanks, Kathy." She hesitated. "Wish me luck?"

"Girl, I know you. You make your own luck. But I'll be sending good thoughts your way. Have a great weekend."

"You, too. Talk to you soon." Jordan hung up the phone with a smile. She didn't expect any problems but she didn't want to be foolish.

It was already getting warm out, so she changed into shorts, a tank top, and tennis shoes, and gathered her kit together. She used the extra time to tidy up the motel room, though it was hardly disorderly.

Promptly at 0900 a now-familiar 4Runner pulled up in front of her door, and Jack debarked, his hair combed neatly back, wearing a tan tropical-style shirt and khaki shorts. She came out to greet him. He nodded to her, smiling with reserve. "Still game, Lieutenant?"

She grinned. "You make it sound like a test, Master Chief." Her eyes were drawn down to the brace on his leg. For the first time she could see his scars, a grim reminder of their misadventures in Libya. She lost her smile and raised her eyes back to his. "Nasty business, Jack," she said sympathetically, as she reached out and touched his arm.

He frowned. "It's doing fine," he said testily, pulling his arm back. "I don't need pity."

Jordan retracted her hand and frowned, chewing on a reply. Then she relaxed visibly. "Guess I just stepped on a land mine." She looked up at him, eyes alight with mischief. "Can we restart the simulation? I'll go back into the motel room and close the door. You knock, and I'll answer." Before he could summon a response, she turned and went back into the room, shutting the door behind her.

Chagrined, Jack had to smile in spite of himself. He limped over and knocked. She opened the door with a welcoming smile. "Good morning, Jack."

"Ready to go, Jordan?" he asked carefully.

"Hooyah," she replied, smothering a grin. "Where are we off to?"

"A little island in the Keys. Get away from the base for a couple of days, kick back. Work for you?"

"Sounds great." She picked up her bag. "Lead the way." She followed him to the waiting vehicle, where he opened the doors for her. Stowing her bag in the back seat, she climbed in next to him.

Within fifteen minutes they were at the marina. They parked the SUV and boarded a trim 32' cruiser with a small forward cabin and an uncluttered deck. A dive shelf and row of tanks hinted that SCUBA diving might be in the plans for the weekend. "Walk on the Moon?" Jordan asked. "That's an odd name for a boat."

"She belongs to a friend of mine," he explained, donning sunglasses and a baseball cap for the voyage. "We're just borrowing her for the weekend. I don't know why he named her that. You ever pilot one of these babies?"

"Not one like this," she acknowledged. "But I've driven smaller craft and had some basic instruction in PT-boats. Show me what to do."

"I'll give you the quick course. Then I can lie back and snooze while you do the work." Jack grinned at her. Now that he was in his element, he was starting to relax.

Learning to pilot the boat came easily for Jordan, with the master chief standing behind her giving directions. He kept his left hand on her shoulder as she stood at the helm. She felt him lean on her slightly as the boat moved, compensating for his injured leg. After she had the basic operation down and they were well under way, he moved closer as he continued giving her pointers. Soon his right hand was caressing her ear and softly trailing down her neck toward her waist. She smiled, pretending not to notice. But when she felt him nibbling on her earlobe, she caught her breath. Maintaining concentration had become a challenge. "Are you trying to distract me?" she asked, her voice husky.

Jack paused. "Do you want me to stop, Jordan?"

She shook her head and turned toward him with a grin, lifting her face for a kiss on the mouth. He obliged. She returned her attention to her job, giving him his operating instructions. "Just keep your eyes open and let me know if we need to change course."

He smiled and switched targets, massaging her shoulders for a few minutes. "I'm going to get off this leg for a while. Keep us pointed in this direction, steady as she goes, for another 45-50 minutes. Give me a shout when you see some islands in the distance off the port bow. Call me if you see any other indications of land, or if anything seems wrong." He made his way slowly and carefully across the moving boat to a bench, where he lay down with a sigh, elevating his leg on a flotation cushion. He watched Jordan for a while, enjoying the view, then pulled a small book from his pocket. He wrote in the book sporadically for the rest of the trip.

Several small islands showed up on the horizon just as predicted. She alerted Jack, who joined her at the tiller and guided her in, hands on her shoulders. They reached the dock of the tiny cay shortly after 1100 hours. As he moored the boat, he directed her to a gear bin, from which she selected a mask, snorkel and fins. He tossed her equipment into a duffel bag along with his own. Once the boat was secured, they gathered the duffel and their personal bags and headed up the dock to the beach.

"It's beautiful," Jordan exclaimed as she surveyed the small beach. A small convenience store and cantina 50 yards from the dock kept company with a dozen tiny cottages, a neatly tended vegetable garden, two goats, a small flock of chickens, and one old Jeep. Other than that the beach was clean and unspoiled.

"The whole island is less than five miles long," Jack said, heading toward one of the cottages. "It's where I come when I need to escape for a while. I just hope no one ever 'discovers' it."

She had been curious to see what sleeping accommodations he was going to offer. She felt reassured and yet oddly disappointed when he pointed out that their cottage had two beds, a queen in the small bedroom and a hide-a-bed couch in the living room. They stowed their gear and headed to the cantina for lunch.

Their pace was slow. To Jordan, it seemed that he was limping noticeably worse than he had on Friday. A dozen ways to ask him about it came to mind, but she bit her tongue, remembering how testy he'd been earlier. When they finally arrived at the little cafe, he eased himself carefully into the chair and settled with a long exhalation. "Leg would pick this weekend to act up," he muttered. Realizing he had created an opening he'd rather she didn't pursue, he turned to her and changed the subject. "Everything's fresh. Simple but good. Never had a bad meal here."

A grizzled waiter, wearing a clean and serviceable apron over his T-shirt and shorts, approached their table. Jack greeted him by name, "Ciao, Mario."

"Ciao, Jack, good to see you again," Mario replied. "It's been a while. And you brought a pretty girl this time!" He raised his eyebrows and winked broadly at Jack. "Way to go, you old sea dog, it's about time." Jack glared at him, but Mario didn't seem to notice. He took their beverage order and left them menus.

"So, Jack, you don't bring all your girlfriends here?" she teased.

"No, just Pyro a couple of times."

She raised her eyebrows and smiled at him. "Well, I know he's pretty special."

He growled warningly. "Jordan."

She wisely directed her attention to the menu. It was indeed simple: catch of the day or chicken, in five variations including tacos, burritos and pasta. She selected a fish and pasta combination with a green salad; he chose fish tacos with extra salsa. While they waited for Mario to return, she shared the information Lynn had provided in the morning's phone call, making a point of mentioning that her friend knew they were spending the weekend together.

Jack grunted. "So it's pretty much as we thought. Salem's not going to care what I do, which means that Kurt gets the final say." He shook his head, flashing Jordan a crooked smile. "I know it's part of being in the Navy, but I never thought I'd have to ask Kurt Sehloff for permission to pursue a relationship." He reflected a moment. "I think we should do as we please and seek amnesty if necessary. I've known him a long time. He's tough but not unreasonable. I can't see how he could consider us to be a problem."

She shook her head. "You know the captain better than I do, but we don't know what his agenda is. What if he's been asked to look for a way to drum me out of the CRT? We'd be handing him just the ammunition he needs."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it's possible. Then again, if that's his agenda, you might be better off getting out earlier rather than later."

"That's a good point. And asking permission rankles me, too," she continued. "But, Jack, first we need to decide whether a relationship is something we want to pursue. We have two days to get to know each other. Hell, we may hate each other by the end of the weekend." She grinned to soften her words.

He nodded, reaching his hand to clasp hers. "You're the one who's affected, Jordan. It's your decision." He smiled mischievously. "I could make it easy for you, make this weekend a living hell."

She snorted. "Been there, done that. You have nothing left to prove." With an impish grin, she added, "Don't forget, you haven't seen my worst."

He rolled his eyes. "I have a pretty good idea of what you can do," he said, crossing his legs protectively.

They were interrupted by Mario, bearing glasses of iced tea and asking whether they were ready. Jack gave him their orders. When the waiter left, Jordan asked, "So what's on the agenda for this afternoon?"

"I was planning to head down the beach about a quarter mile. There's an inlet with a little reef just offshore, makes for good snorkeling." He paused. "There's SCUBA equipment on the boat but it's really overkill for such a shallow reef. If you want to dive, we can cruise around to the other side of the island tomorrow."

"Snorkeling is fine. It'll be great to get in the water," she replied. She hesitated before adding, "Is your leg up to all this?"

"It'll be okay," he replied curtly. Seeing the frown on her face, he realized he was being testy again. "The swimming will do me good. It's the only real exercise I'm allowed these days. And I brought a cane in case I need it."

Jordan nodded. She knew she needed to stay clear of this subject, but it worried her to see how badly his leg was hurting him. "Swimming and snorkeling will be good for me, too. The last few months have been pretty stressful. Nothing personal, Jack," she added with a wry grin. "Snorkeling is my favorite way to relax. Simple equipment, no sounds but your own breathing, just you and the water and the fish. I could spend hours out there." She looked up at him and laid her hand on his. "Thank you. Time like this is a rare gift."

He relaxed, allowing a small smile to appear, and clasped her hand in return. "Thanks for giving me the excuse to go. How did you get hooked on snorkeling, anyway? I thought you grew up in northern California?"

She filled him in on her family's vacations in Baja, where they stretched the budget by camping on the beach. They continued to share snorkeling and diving stories until lunch arrived. Mario proudly pointed out to Jordan that all the fish was caught locally, and the salad came from his own garden. It was as fresh and tasty as promised, and took most of their attention for the next ten minutes.

Jack finished first, and sat back in his chair, content for the moment. Soon after, Jordan pushed away her plate as well. "I'm stuffed!" she said happily. "That was delicious." The observant Mario promptly appeared, laying the check on the table between them. They both dived for it. Jordan was closer and her hand quicker. She clutched it firmly as she pulled a small wallet from her pocket.

Jack protested. "This weekend is my treat, Jordan."

"You paid for dinner and the movie last night, Jack, and the boat, the cottage. It's my turn. I don't want to be beholden to you."

Frowning, he questioned her, "You don't think I'd use that to pressure you...?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "It's not about you, Jack. This is about me. I need to know that I'm on an equal footing." She looked at him directly. "You know how I am."

He had to smile at that. "I recall some white steps." She nodded, letting herself smile. While she counted out the lunch money, he started the process of getting up from his chair, and they finished almost simultaneously.

They strolled back to the cottage and changed into swimsuits. Jordan came out of the bathroom in a simple one-piece black suit with a low-cut back and high-cut legs just as Jack emerged from the bedroom with boxer-style trunks that were no more revealing than his favorite khaki shorts. He had retained his shirt and traded his full brace for a water-tolerant exercise version. "Aww, Jack, I was hoping to see you in some teeny little Speedos," she teased.

He gave her his best glare, but couldn't hold it for long. He demonstrated approval of her suit with raised eyebrows and a low whistle. She caught his eye and grinned. "Glad you like it," she said, picking up her sunscreen and squeezing some into her palm. "Sunscreen?" she asked, offering him the bottle.

"I'll pass," Jack said, looking at the bottle dubiously. Nodding, she turned to place it on the table. Seeing her bare skin, he offered, "Put some on your back?"

"Thanks, I'd appreciate it," she said, handing him the bottle. As she applied the sunscreen to her neck and arms, he obligingly massaged it into her back, from shoulders to waist. No square inch was overlooked, and Jordan was in no hurry for him to stop.

When he finished she turned around. "Thanks, that felt good. I have a bit extra on my hands. Would you like some on your face?" He nodded without thinking. She reached her hands to his cheeks and pulled his head down for a long, serious kiss. "Now," she grinned, "how about some on your back? I'm assuming that shirt is coming off when you go in the water. Promise I won't hurt you."

Hooked by the thought of her hands on his back, Jack removed his shirt. Jordan let out her own low whistle, enjoying her first view of his tanned, muscular upper body. She caught him grinning as he turned around. He stood at ease as she worked the lotion into his back and shoulders. On his left side, a few inches above his waist, she ran into a small round scar. "What happened here, Jack?" she asked.

"Just an old war wound. Part of my collection." He declined to offer further explanation. "You about done there?"

"Yup." She squeezed some more lotion into her hand and offered him the bottle once again. "For your arms and legs?"

He shook his head, "No, thanks." Setting down the bottle, she quickly finished her own legs and they headed for the beach. Jack carried the duffel with beach towels and snorkel gear, and Jordan hauled a gallon water jug, as they slowly walked down to the small inlet he had mentioned earlier. They spread their towels in the shade of a large rock outcrop and headed into the water.

Jack immediately relaxed into a back float, elevating his aching leg, while Jordan circumnavigated the inlet with an efficient crawl stroke as an excuse to stretch her limbs. When she returned she came up on him silently from behind and swam underneath him, coming up just enough to bump his lower back on her way back up to the surface. He exploded from the water as she sat back and laughed. He quickly figured out where the "shark" had appeared from, and took off after her.

With his injured leg, she had the edge, but she decided it would be more fun if she him catch her. As she had suspected, the penalty was another embrace. He folded himself into a chair in the shallow water and sat her in his lap for an exchange of soft kisses. She was giggling and enjoying herself when she began to feel his interest rising. She raised her eyebrows and pushed herself back off his lap. "I'm going to get the snorkeling gear," she told him as she headed toward the beach.

Jack swore softly under his breath. If he was going to get through two more days of this, he was going to have to keep a bit more distance between himself and Jordan, which was the last thing he wanted to do. For lack of a better idea, he swam to the far side of the inlet and back at the best speed his leg would allow, redirecting his energy and enjoying the feel of the water.

When he returned, she was waiting at the shoreline with the water jug and their snorkel gear. "Sorry, Jack," she said, just as he came out with "sorry, Jordan." They both grinned awkwardly.

"Let's not apologize, Jack. Hell, if I had a dick it would be doing the same thing."

He snorted, adding seriously. "If you don't want me to explode before the weekend is over, we need to back off. Keep it above the waist?"

She nodded. "Okay by me, Master Chief. Thirsty?" She held out the water jug.

"Thanks." He took a long drink of water and returned the jug to her. She handed him his snorkel gear and took the jug back up to their shady spot. By the time she returned to the beach, he was ready to go. She put on her own gear and joined him in the water. "Ready to swim with the fishies?" he teased.

Laughing at his choice of words, she followed him as he set out for the edge of the inlet. They spent over an hour wandering around the coral reef, spotting all the common reef dwellers, puffers, pipefish, and even an imposing Moray eel. By the time they returned to their beach towels, they were tired and thirsty, and the tension between them had dissolved for the moment.

Jack pulled a bag of tortilla chips out of the capacious duffel, opened it, and sampled the contents. "Only slightly crushed," he testified, offering her the bag.

In return, she passed him the water jug. "Something's bothering me, Jack," she said, munching chips. "Do we have time to talk before we head back?"

Jack looked at his watch, feeling vaguely apprehensive. "It's not quite 1600. What's your problem?"

She gestured to the beach towels and sat down cross-legged on one of them. When he didn't immediately follow suit, she looked at him, head cocked, and patted the other towel imperatively. Jack slowly eased himself to the ground and sat facing her, left leg outstretched and right leg bent. He clasped both hands around his right knee, bracing himself.

"When we talked at lunch about Sehloff and the whole fraternization issue, you didn't seem convinced that we needed to wait. You said it was my decision." She hesitated. "I understand why you feel that way, but I'm realizing it troubles me." She caught his eye. "I'd like it to be our decision, Jack."

Shaking his head, he replied without hesitation, an edge of frustration coloring his voice. "Truth? I don't understand what we're waiting for, Jordan. The definition of fraternization includes dating. Hell, just going for pizza last night made us a target. Even our dinner Thursday could have been considered suspect. It seems to me that you're drawing an arbitrary line at sex." He paused and looked at her. "Don't get me wrong, I respect your decision and I'll abide by it. But it isn't my decision." He looked out over the ocean, his voice becoming low and husky as he continued, "If it were up to me, you would have stayed over last night."

Jordan felt desire hit her like a blow to the stomach. "I wanted to stay. Believe me." Her tone left no doubt in his mind, even as her rational mind took charge again. "But you know it's not an arbitrary line. Technically you're right about the fraternization policy. But I'm sure Sehloff can appreciate the difference between spending time with someone and sleeping with him, even if you can't. Waiting says to him that I care about being on the team, that I care about doing the right thing, that I can exercise self-control where men are concerned. It also tells him that I did my best not to put him into an impossible situation."

She paused briefly, continuing before he had a chance to respond. "Jack, this isn't just about Sehloff." She struggled to find the right words. "I consider you a valued friend. We've seen some tough times. Hell, we risked our lives together. And I've really enjoyed the time we've spent together the past few days." She reached out her hand and placed it on his knee. "I'm already halfway in love with you. If we slept together I couldn't easily go back to being just friends again." She shook her head. "I'm not willing to risk much of anything for a few days of passion. If sex is all you're looking for, we should head home now."

They sat quietly while he drew circles in the sand, processing her speech. "I guess I'll buy your argument about Kurt," he conceded. Puzzled by her last statement, he added hesitantly, "So is friendship all you want, Jordan? Or do you want more?"

Jordan spoke from her heart. "I want it all, Jack. I'd like to believe we could make this work. But you said yourself last night that special operators don't always make the best partners. A relationship would be tough, with me going off on assignment and you here training. We'd both have to work at it if we wanted it to survive for more than a few days." She cocked her head. "What about you? What do you want?"

Jack ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. "I don't know what I want, Jordan. You're right. It wouldn't be easy to maintain a connection." He looked at her soberly. "I like spending time with you. And I'm willing to bet we'd enjoy each other's company in bed. Truthfully, though, I'm not real optimistic about a relationship." Seeing her frown, he reached out his hand, clasping hers. "Hey, the weekend's not over. We make a hell of a team. Don't give up on us yet. Can we leave it as 'friends' for now?"

"I can do friends." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Interested in going back in the water?"

"Actually," he replied, grinning sheepishly, "I was thinking about taking a nap. It was hard to get to sleep last night after you left."

She nodded. "Something else we have in common. A nap sounds good."

They built up small sand pillows under the tops of the beach towels and settled themselves comfortably, back to back, lightly touching. Once Jack's head hit his pillow he was out within minutes. Jordan lay thinking a while longer before she succumbed to sleep.

She awoke slowly from a dream in which a tiger was following her, staring at her. Its gaze felt intense but not ominous. She opened her eyes to see Jack sitting next to her, watching her. He smiled slowly. "Good afternoon, Jordan."

She smiled back dreamily. "Hello, tiger."

He chuckled. "Tiger?"

"How long was I asleep?" she asked, still a bit muzzy.

"Over an hour. I just woke up about five minutes ago myself," he answered. He reached out and touched her face softly. "You're beautiful when you're asleep."

She smiled. "I guess I should sleep more often, then?"

"I didn't mean it that way." Initially defensive, he looked at her face and realized she was amused. "And you knew it."

"Yup." She slowly sat up and stretched. "Do me a favor?" she asked.

"What is it?"

"I want you to kiss me. But first I want you to cup my chin like you did when you hit me." She saw the doubtful look on his face. "I'm not crazy, Jack. I just don't want any leftover charge clinging to that gesture. I thought maybe you could help me defuse it."

"Right. Desensitization therapy." A smile touched his lips. "Anything I can do to help." He reached his left hand slowly toward her face, cupping her chin, watching her eyes for signs of anxiety. Pulling her face toward his, he met her lips in a soft kiss, then backed off and dropped his hand. "How was that?"

"Okay," she replied. "I could feel myself tensing, but I was able to follow my breath and let it go. Try again?"

He obligingly repeated the operation a few more times, each time moving a little faster and savoring the kiss longer. "Again?"

She nodded. "This time try to look menacing." She braced herself.

He hesitated. "I don't want to wear that mask with you, Jordan."

She thought a moment. "Imagine that I just bugged you about your leg again." He frowned. "Yes," she said, "that's perfect."

He repeated the exercise, struggling to maintain a frown. She raised one hand to the back of his head and ran her fingers through his hair, prolonging the kiss. When they finally tore themselves apart, Jack asked, "Is it working?"

She smiled and touched his jaw. "Working great, my friend. How about for you?"

Rolling his eyes, he replied, "I'm never going to be able to use that move on the trainees again."

She grinned. "Sorry. I didn't mean to put a kink in your training program. But seriously, I think it did the trick. Thanks."

"All in the interest of science, Lieutenant." He smiled. "Know what I'd like to do now?"

"Yeah, Jack, I know what you'd like to do," she replied smugly, arching her eyebrows.

He snorted. "Besides that. We need to go find some dinner. It's after 1730."

She laughed. "Now that you mention it, I'm getting hungry myself."

He enjoyed seeing her laugh. "That little cafe has the only eats on the island, and sometimes if nobody shows up for dinner Mario closes early. We don't want to go to bed without dinner tonight."

"Hooyah, Master Chief. Don't want to go hungry." They packed up their gear and headed slowly back to the cottage, hand in hand. The swimming seemed to have helped Jack's leg; she judged that his limp wasn't quite as bad as had been on the way down to the beach.

Jack left his sandy exercise brace at the door and took the first shower, changing into a clean pair of shorts and a T-shirt. While she showered, he put on his full brace and hosed off the lighter one. She donned a simple sundress for dinner, earning an admiring glance.

Jack was right about dinner time. By the time they made their way to the little cafe, Mario was surveying the empty tables sadly, looking at his watch. He brightened to see them arrive. "Jack! Miss! Please. Have our best table."

The dinner menu was unchanged from lunch, but each easily found something that sounded good. This time they splurged and ordered a bottle of wine to accompany the meal.

Margaritas and lazy conversation occupied their time while they waited for the food to arrive. It had been over seven hours since lunch, so they dove into the meal with gusto. Despite the unresolved issues between them, they were able to relax and be comfortable with each other.

After dinner they lingered for over an hour, drinking wine and talking about their favorite places to travel, until finally Mario stood over them, tapping his foot, encouraging them to move on so that he could close. Jack let her pay the bill without comment, and they ambled companionably back to the cottage arm in arm.

Jordan was first through the cottage door. Never a heavy drinker, she was noticing the effects of the alcohol. "I'm feeling a bit rocky," she said, heading for the kitchen.

"What's this?" he teased. "An operator who can't hold her liquor?"

She turned and made a face at him. "I should know better than to try matching drinks with someone who outweighs me by seventy pounds. I don't usually have more than one or two glasses of wine."

"You going to be okay?" he asked.

"I'm just a bit unsteady," she replied. "I'm going to lie down for a few minutes." She drank a glass of water, then made her way into the bedroom and closed the door. She lay down, trying to relax and bring the world back into focus. Her feelings about Jack were confusing enough, she thought. She really didn't need the alcohol making things worse. After twenty minutes she felt better, so she returned to the living room, to find Jack sitting on the couch writing in his little book. She sat next to him and tried to peer over his arm. "What's this?"

He smiled, closing the book and putting down the pen. "Nothing, Jordan." As he started to put his arm around her, she snatched the book from his fingers and danced away with a teasing grin. He lunged for the book but caught only the hem of her short dress as it slipped through his fingers. "Damn," he swore softly, but the grin on his face told her he was willing to play.

She sidled back to the couch with her prize. "Read it to me, Jack?" she asked. This time he ignored the book dangling above him, tackling instead her more accessible waist. They fell to the couch in a tangle of legs and arms, the coveted book landing on the floor unnoticed. Laughing, they wrestled, Jack's size giving him a decided edge.

When they finally reached a stable position and paused for breath, Jordan was pressed against the back of the couch, his body lying atop hers. Her right hand was gently held captive by his left, their fingers laced together. He grinned wickedly and stroked her jaw. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling his head to her, directing his mouth toward hers. She met him hungrily, laughter turning to moans of pleasure. Her hand left his head, finding its way under his T-shirt. She ran her fingernails lightly down his back.

Distracted by his mouth and her own activities, she didn't notice when his hand first left her face and started traveling down her side, down her leg to mid-thigh. There it found the bottom of her dress, and started its journey back up between her legs. She involuntarily lifted her hips to meet his hand, just as her internal alarms went off. She wrenched her head free. "No, Jack. Stop."

He froze, frustration and desire fighting with his self-control. Seeing his expression, Jordan shivered. "Please, Jack," she said, trying to bring him back to her. She reached down and captured his roaming hand, bringing it up and gently holding it against his chest. He shook his head and groaned, pulling his hands away and pushing himself up. He sat on the edge of the couch facing away from her, head bowed, resting in his hands. She lay silently, regret on her face. After a moment she sat up and laid her hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

He rose to his feet, shrugging off her hand. He stood for a moment, facing the doorway. His left leg almost gave way beneath him as he turned his head toward her slightly. "I'm going to sleep on the boat." He started for the door, his leg stiff and awkward.

She was afraid he would be gone before she found the words to say what she felt. She got one more chance as he stopped and collected his cane from its place near the door. "Jack. Please. Don't go," she pleaded. "Talk to me." She rose from the couch and started toward him.

He looked at her, his face weary, his voice ragged. "No, Jordan. I can't stay here tonight. I'll see you in the morning." He walked out the door and closed it firmly behind him.

"Damn." She cursed herself. She wanted to blame the alcohol but she knew that all the decisions were hers, from joining him on the island to drinking so much wine to playing a teasing game with him when she knew he was already on edge.

Glancing down, she noticed Jack's book lying on the floor where it had fallen in the melee. She glared at the book as she retrieved it, as though it had been the cause of this debacle. Briefly she considered reading it, searching for whatever he had been trying to protect, but she frowned at the thought and placed it on the table.

She looked at her watch. Barely 2100 hours. Worried about Jack, she considered a trek to the boat, but knew he wouldn't welcome her intrusion. He had spoken clearly; she needed to respect that and give him the time he needed. She spent a few minutes tidying up the empty cottage and for lack of a better idea, made her way to bed, where she slept fitfully.

Fortunately Jack knew the trail to the boat well, as he had left the cottage without a flashlight and the moon was not as bright as he had expected. Even with his cane, he stumbled several times and almost went down once. He swore at everything: Jordan, his leg, the mess in Libya, the Navy, the margaritas and wine, and most of all himself.

Climbing aboard, he eased himself onto the same bench he'd rested on earlier. In his mind he could still see Jordan at the helm. "What the hell was I thinking, getting involved with this crazy woman who thinks she wants to be in spec ops?" he asked, as though the wind and water might give him an answer. "Why couldn't I find someone normal?" He snorted at the thought. "Normal like me?" Most people he met kept their distance when they found out what he did for a living. Jordan was the first woman he could remember who embraced all that he was and met him head on at every turn.

She liked to do the things he enjoyed, and to his continuing delight she liked doing them with him. She made him laugh, even when he was determined to be grouchy. There had been a time when he wasn't such an ill-tempered son of a bitch. He knew precisely when that had changed. When Carol left, his laughter had gone with her. All that had remained was the satisfaction he got from his job. Until recently it had been enough. Now he felt he'd found a gaping hole in the middle of his life. He didn't know whether to cover it up quickly or make an investment in this woman who seemed to fit there so well.

"She'd fit there for a few days," he reminded himself. Then she was heading off for advanced training, and he might not see her for months. He shook his head. He knew better than anyone all the ways she could be hurt, captured or killed if she were to go operational. The thought of her in trouble with him back home, helpless to do anything, turned his stomach. He thought about asking her to turn down the assignment, but he could imagine her response. He paused, a memory from his past nagging at him. It didn't take long to trace its source. It was Carol, asking him to stay home with her. His response to her had been the same as he would expect from Jordan. "The universe does have a sense of humor after all," he said grimly.

He lay down on the bench, propping up his leg as before, and stayed there, mind spinning, until finally the cool night air forced him into the cabin. He washed up and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in one of the bunks.

Chapter 4. Sunday

Jordan watched the digits on the clock next to the bed turn to 0500. It had not been a restful night. She lay in bed a few minutes with her eyes open and mind rushing at full speed. Realizing that sleep was no longer an option, she rose, slipped into her running clothes and took off to tour the island in the dawn light.

By the time she returned at 0630, she was pretty sure she had seen every square foot of the tiny cay, and her mind was calm if not fresh. She decided to go look for Jack at 0700 if he hadn't shown up before then. Showering and dressing quickly, she had just started a search for coffee in the tiny kitchen when she heard a soft rapping sound. She turned as Jack opened the cottage door. He hesitated in the entryway, brown paper bag in one hand, cane in the other. Her face lit up. "Jack! I'm so glad to see you." Noticing how haggard he looked, she smiled wryly. "Looks like you didn't get any more sleep than I did."

He relaxed visibly at her welcome, letting a smile touch his lips. Entering the cottage, he started for the kitchen with his groceries when his eye caught the book that had triggered the previous night's scuffle. He stopped and looked at Jordan. "Did you read it?" he asked.

"No," she replied, joining him in the living room. "Not that I wasn't tempted."

He acknowledged her forbearance with a nod as he set the groceries down on the coffee table and picked up the book. He found the page he wanted and handed her the open book. She sat on one end of the couch and bent her eyes to the page. While she read, he limped to the other end of the couch and sat heavily, his eyes on the floor.

          touch of fingers
    ignites hungry skin
            mind struggles for control
      body surrenders
              desire burns
        logic to cinders

She caught her breath. "It's beautiful." She looked at him. "Did you write it last night?"

Turned to her, he nodded. With a wry smile, he added, "I know it's not great poetry, but maybe it helps explain my state of mind." He sighed and shook his head. "I did a lot of thinking last night. Please understand, Jordan, my feelings for you aren't just about sex. I enjoy being with you. I love your sense of humor, your energy, the way you set your jaw and charge ahead." He stopped, gathering his resolve, and took a deep breath before continuing. "But I haven't spent this kind of time with a woman since... since my wife left me five years ago." He looked at her and said simply, "I want you too much."

Jordan's face reflected her remorse and deepened understanding. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I should have paid attention to what was happening, been more sensitive." She paused. "My ex and I used to play little teasing games all the time. But we'd been together for several years. I just wasn't thinking."

He nodded. "Likewise. I knew my hand had no business down there."

She smiled. "No business yet. Maybe it was just early." She reflected for a moment. "I want you too. Perhaps more than you realize. And you're probably right about Sehloff not having a problem with our having a relationship. But I just can't take the chance." She looked at him, eyes pleading for understanding. "You know better than anyone how hard I've fought to get this assignment, Jack. I can't... I won't risk losing it. For my own peace of mind, I need to be able to go in clean when I meet with him." She reached her hand to him across the length of the couch. "I didn't realize it would be so difficult for us to keep our hands off each other."

"I know," he agreed, meeting her outstretched hand with his own. "It's just... well, 24 hours of foreplay was a bit too much for this old soldier. We only have one more day. Maybe we need to limit ourselves to handholding." He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "And no cheating this time?"

She nodded with the slightest of smiles. "Agreed. I'll be a good girl, I promise." She paused. "Would an occasional kiss be okay too?"

He looked at her sternly, only the barest hint of a smile betraying him. "Okay. But no tongue."

She grinned. "And an occasional hug?"

Again the stern look. "Okay. But no wiggling your hips." He caught her look of innocence. "Jordan, you know you do it."

She smiled sheepishly. "Guilty as charged, Master Chief. Okay, no tongue, no wiggling. Friendly and affectionate. Period." She added seriously, "Jack, I'll do my best but I can't read your mind. You need to tell me if I start making it hard for you. So to speak. Promise?"

He raised his eyebrows and snorted. "Promise."

She directed her gaze to the neglected grocery bag sitting on the coffee table. "I don't suppose there's any coffee in that bag?"

He nodded. "Coffee, milk, juice, fresh eggs and bread. Let's make breakfast."

While Jordan brewed coffee, toasted several slices of bread and set the table, Jack scrambled half a dozen eggs. Within ten minutes they were sitting down to a hearty breakfast. She had more of an appetite than she'd anticipated, and it seemed that he was always hungry. She waited until he had finished eating before bringing up what was sure to be a sensitive subject. "How long were you married?"

He stared at his plate for a while, remembering his thoughts from the night before. Finally he looked at Jordan and replied, "We got married when we were both in our early twenties. I took a bullet, and Carol was a nurse at the hospital where I landed for a while." He unconsciously touched the old scar on his side. "We were together about ten years. She didn't much like it when I joined the SEALs, kept trying to get me to transfer closer to home."

"Is that why she left?" Jordan asked.

"Not exactly." He stalled out again. This story, buried deep, was not something he shared with anyone, yet he found himself wanting Jordan to understand what had happened. She reached her hand to his. Clasping it, he continued. "She found out she was pregnant. Next time I was on leave she asked me again to stay home, but I decided to take on one more assignment before requesting a transfer. She was already three months along by then, but I was only going to be gone six weeks."

He shook his head. "The mission blew up in our faces. I lost two buddies, and three of us were captured behind enemy lines. Nobody knew where we were or exactly what had happened. They told Carol I was MIA. We finally escaped about eight months later." He paused again, his eyes focused on a distant point. "By the time I got home, our baby was three months old. But Carol was finished. She'd already been seeing somebody else, said her son needed a father." He shrugged his shoulders and looked at Jordan. "How could I blame her? She didn't know whether I was dead or alive."

"Do you know where they are now?" Jordan asked.

"They live in Ohio," Jack replied. "She married the other fellow. George Sorensen. He's a good man, a good father. He adopted Jimmy. I send money, and visit him a couple of times a year, but George is his real dad." He took a long breath and released it slowly. "I'm hoping I can spend more time with him as he gets older, but Jimmy's only five, and Carol figures he's still too young to leave home and stay with someone he hardly knows." He shook his head. "I'm sure it's true. And lord knows, I don't know what I'd do with him anyway."

Jordan smiled gently. "You could bring him here, teach him to snorkel. He's going to feel special knowing he has two dads who both care about him."

"Hmmph. Never thought about it that way." He looked at her softly, echoes of old hurt in his eyes. Bringing his other hand to the table, he inspected her fingers one by one. "I guess now you know why I'm pessimistic about relationships with special operators."

"It must have been devastating, Jack. Did you think about her a lot while you were a prisoner?"

"All the time." He nodded his head slowly. "Sometimes thinking about Carol and our baby was all that kept me going. I wouldn't give up trying to find a way out of there." He smiled grimly. "She probably saved all three of our lives."

"Sounds as though it wasn't her but your feelings for her that saved your life," Jordan mused. "So had you been a SEAL trainer before this mission?"

"No," Jack answered, wrapping his hands around her smaller one. "They asked me to help teach a SERE course because of my POW experience. It gave me something to keep my mind off Carol, and I seemed to be suited for it, so I kept taking on more responsibility." He reflected. "Teaching SERE is always intense for me. I want the trainees to be prepared, to know what kind of shit they might face. And believe me, reality is always worse than the class."

Jordan hesitated to share her next thought, but she knew it had to come up. "It must feel strange, thinking about me going off to war, leaving you behind just as you left Carol."

"Yeah." He nodded heavily. "Last night, on the boat, I spent a lot of time thinking about that." With a wry smile he added, "There's some strange kind of justice at work here." He paused and shook his head. "After all these years I'm finally beginning to understand what Carol was going through every time I went on a mission."

"Maybe you should write her a letter," Jordan suggested. "She'd probably appreciate hearing it."

Jack looked surprised at the suggestion, but he nodded. "She might at that." He cocked his head at her. "You know, you remind me of her in a few ways."

Jordan was touched by this remark. His voice told her how much he had cared about Carol. "How so?"

"She listened to me, really listened, the way you do. And she made me laugh, even when I was determined to be grouchy." He reached out his hand and gently touched Jordan's cheek, leaning forward to kiss her. She met his lips with hers. "Glad we added the kissing clause to our agreement, baby."

"Me, too," she said, smiling at his choice of endearment. "And thank you for telling me about Carol. It helps me understand where you're coming from." She traced his face with her fingers as though committing it to memory. "Don't you waste any time worrying about me, tiger. You know I'm tougher than I look. I promise I'll come back. No matter what it takes."

"I'll count on that," he said, letting a smile crack through. "Know what Pyro told me after SERE?"

"No, what?"

"He said you were an irresistible force and I was an immovable object, and the meeting was bound to be explosive." He shook his head. "You are an irresistible force, Jordan. Whomever you're up against had better watch out."

She grinned. "Methinks the immovable object has budged a bit. And this irresistible force has adjusted her heading for a new intercept." Straightening in her chair, she changed the subject. "So, Master Chief, do you want to sit around and talk about the past all day? Or shall we go check out the diving on the other side of the island?"

"Let's go diving, Lieutenant." Getting to his feet, he began collecting the breakfast dishes scattered around the table.

"Hooyah." She stood up and started assessing the damage in the kitchen. "Any time constraints? When is check-out?"

"It's 0745 now. We could motor over there, make two good dives with an hour between, and still be back by 1300 hours," he replied. "The cottage is ours all day. We'll have plenty of time to shower, get some lunch, and relax a bit before heading back to the mainland."

Motivated, they made quick work of the breakfast mess and got ready to go. Jordan put on her swimsuit, with shorts and a tank top over it. Jack wore his trunks and T-shirt, and took the exercise brace with him. Even moving at his careful pace, they were at the launch in twenty minutes.

This time he piloted, while she ran a routine safety check on the tanks and regulators. When she finished, he gave her a new job. "There are several wetsuits hanging in a closet in the cabin. One of them has my name on it. Go through the others and find one that fits you, then bring them both out here."

"Aye, aye, Skipper," she acknowledged as she sought out the gear. She picked out a suit that fit her, and brought it out along with Jack's. "Smells pretty good for a communal wetsuit," she grinned, laying the suits on a bench.

He smiled and held out his arm, inviting her over for an embrace. She obliged him, tucking herself in next to his side, arm hugging his waist. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he bent down for a kiss. "What is it about you? How do you make it so difficult for me to feel bad when you're with me?"

"Maybe it's because I like you, and I'm not afraid to show it," she offered.

"But why me, Jordan?" He was genuinely puzzled. "How did you pick such an ill-tempered old hard-ass like me to hang around with?"

She laughed at his description of himself. "Well, for one, because you're not afraid of me. Very few men are brave enough to mess around with a lady operator." She tilted her head toward him. "You did remember to wear your codpiece this weekend, didn't you, Jack?" He snorted in response.

She continued, "And you're passionately committed to your job. The first priority of Royce, my ex, was career advancement. Every move he made was aimed at making himself look good. You're all about doing what's right. It's refreshing." She paused a moment. "As for the 'old' part, you're only 38. I looked it up. And finally, you look really sexy in those shorts." She grinned broadly.

"I don't want to know what else you looked up about me, Miss Naval Intelligence." He shook his head but he was smiling. He squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "We're almost to the section of the reef I want to check out. Head up to the bow and keep an eye out for shallow water or rocks."

She reported to her new post. Working together they guided the boat to a safe spot, dropped anchor, and raised the "diver down" flag. Finally, they lowered the dive shelf and ladder into the water for their exit. Jack joined Jordan on the bench where she had stowed the wetsuits, and removed his brace. She wondered how he was going to manage to get his suit on over his bad leg.

The answer surprised her. "Jordan, I could use your help." He held the wetsuit out to her. "I need to try to keep my leg straight." She nodded soberly as she sat next to him and took the suit, appreciating how hard it was for him to ask for assistance. She set to work in a business-like manner, first turning the suit inside out except for the cuffs. Starting at the feet, she rolled it up his legs until it reached a point where he was able to stand and pull the suit up the rest of the way. The operation brought her face close to the scars on his leg. She bit back the sympathetic comments that came to mind.

Jack let out the straps on the exercise brace and put it back on over his wetsuit. Jordan shed her shorts and tank top, and her wetsuit went on quickly over her swimsuit. They helped each other with their tanks and checked their systems one last time before rolling backwards over the side of the boat into the ocean.

The water was crystal clear, giving them a good view of the varied flora and fauna of the sloping reef. It began around the 30-foot depth, gently dropping off to about 100 feet. They slowly worked their way down to around 50 feet and maintained that depth, occasionally dropping lower when something interesting caught their eyes.

Within the first fifteen minutes they'd already seen barrel sponges, purple sea fans and huge coral heads. Angelfish and wrasses were in abundance, along with a myriad of other individuals and schools. It was clear this was an area not normally frequented by fishermen or tourists, as the fish ignored their presence, neither alarmed nor looking at them as a source of handouts.

They stopped whenever they found new and interesting creatures, pointing them out to each other. Jordan caught a small octopus, which, when given a choice, showed a decided preference for Jack's hands over hers. A six-foot long green Moray eel poked its head out of its hole curiously, and they discovered a giant grouper hiding behind a boulder. Time passed quickly. After 45 minutes they reluctantly returned slowly to the surface and headed back to the launch. Sitting on the dive shelf, they removed their masks and regulators. "Wow!" was the first word out of Jordan's mouth. "That was beautiful."

Jack nodded, grinning. "That grouper must have weighed over 200 pounds." He paused. "Sure was a treat to wander around like a tourist. I'd forgotten what it was like to be underwater without a mission."

Fins and tank removed, Jordan climbed up the ladder onto the boat. Jack handed their gear to her before carefully making his way up the ladder. He dug out some energy bars and offered her two. "Better recharge, Jordan. Another dive in an hour?"

"Hooyah, wouldn't miss it." She drained a water bottle and started eating. "In the meantime, I have a job to do. You going to take off your wetsuit?"

He nodded, puzzled. "Too hot to leave it on."

"So glad we agree," she said, smiling. She made her way over to the bench and stripped off her wetsuit. He followed her and removed his own, Jordan helping him with the last few inches of the cuff. She quickly hosed the salt water off both suits, Jack, and herself, then stood facing him squarely.

"I need a temporary amendment to our agreement," she said solemnly.

Sitting down, he looked up at her warily as he toweled off his leg and restored the brace. Seeing her in that wet swimsuit was enough of a distraction; he didn't need more. "What mischief are you up to now?"

"When I put sunscreen on you yesterday, I observed some tension in your back and shoulders. I feel partly responsible for that tension, and I'd like permission to try to work some of it out." She finally cracked a smile. "Seriously, Jack, I'm pretty good at backrubs. Let me give you one?"

He hesitated only briefly. "That does sound good. Where do you want me?"

Jordan almost answered him truthfully. Then she thought better of it and pointed to the bench he'd been lying on earlier. "Can we pull the cushion off that long bench and lay it over in the shaded area of the deck? That way I can work from both sides."

They rearranged the cushion to suit their needs and threw an old beach towel over it. Jack stretched out on the flat surface and rested his head on his crossed arms. "Don't mess around, woman," he growled warningly. "My self-control only goes so far."

"Hush," she said quietly, starting to work. With the help of a little salad oil she'd brought from the cottage, she stroked broadly, palms open, from his waist up the middle of his back and around his shoulders, then back down the outside of his back, keeping a gentle, even pressure. After a few circuits, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. This was her cue to start working deeper, concentrating on one muscle group at a time, kneading, squeezing, stroking. When she found a knotted area, she slowly and steadily leaned her thumbs or the heels of her hands deep into the tissue, pressing out the tension. Methodically she worked her way from his neck and shoulders down his back, leaving each area relaxed and opened. By the time she reached his waist, his breathing was slow and even. She repeated her long, smooth opening strokes, gradually easing back on the pressure until only her fingertips were trailing along his back. He didn't move. A satisfied smile lit her face as she slipped off to find a comfortable spot for her own nap.

Both Jack and Jordan were exhausted from their sleepless night. The boat rocked gently in the calm water as they slept. For almost an hour, the only sounds to be heard were the seabirds crying and the water lapping at the hull.

Jordan was the first to stir. She looked at her watch. Over an hour and a half since they ate their energy bars. They could hit the water any time. Still, she hated to wake Jack. Deciding to give him another 20 minutes, she closed her eyes.

As she drifted off again, Jack slowly awakened. He debated whether to wake Jordan, and decided against it, setting his watch timer for another 15 minutes. Like her he wasn't all that eager to get up. His back and shoulders were still happily relaxed from the massage, and it seemed a shame to break the spell prematurely. He returned to his slumber.

The beeping watch forced him back to consciousness before he was ready. He slowly stretched, stood up, and stretched some more, rolling his shoulders and enjoying the feel of his loosened back. A quick scan of the boat revealed Jordan sleeping, curled up in one of the two lounge chairs. He walked over and quietly sat in the other chair, facing her, watching her breathe.

For the first time he realized just how precious she had become to him, and with that knowledge came fear. He settled back in the lounge and closed his eyes, letting himself get acquainted with this fear, touching its roots in old loss, old wounds. The choice had never seemed more clear. Familiar words came to his mind, "Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat."

"Teddy Roosevelt. That's a great quote, Jack."

Startled, he turned to see Jordan stretching in her chair. "Sorry, baby. Hadn't realized I was thinking out loud. Didn't mean to wake you. Sleep well?"

She nodded as she sat up. "You?"

"Never better." He reached his hand out to her. "Thanks for the massage."

Taking his hand, she pulled him closer. He sat up, sliding his legs off the chair, leaning toward her. Wrapping his hands on either side of her face, thumbs gently sliding along her cheekbones, he brushed his lips against hers once, twice, three times before joining her in a series of sweet, legal kisses.

"Wow," she said, smiling softly. "Who needs a tongue?"

He grinned, landing one last kiss on her nose before releasing her face. "Ready for another dive?"

"Still time?" she asked. "I was afraid I'd slept too long."

He looked at his watch. "It's just after noon. We could go down for an hour and still be back to the marina by 1400 hours. If the cantina is closed, we can pick up some food from the store."

"What are we waiting for?" she asked, grinning.

They efficiently repeated their dive preparation, switching to fresh tanks. Within 15 minutes they were tumbling into the water once again, both feeling rejuvenated by their long nap. They headed in the opposite direction from their first dive to see what the southern part of the reef had to offer, once again staying around the 50-foot depth.

She was admiring an irate puffer fish, swollen to over a foot in diameter, when Jack tapped her arm to get her attention. Pointing to a large, oddly-shaped cluster of coral lying about 50 feet ahead of them and 20 feet further down the slope of the reef, he headed in its direction, Jordan following closely behind. Her eyes lit up as she saw tall posts sticking up from the reef floor. It was a 40-foot fishing boat, hull mostly intact but lightly crusted with coral. On the stern they were able to make out the name Ruby Cairo.

She followed him as they explored the wreck. The large hatch doors, used for loading fish into the hold, were wide open. A school of snapper streamed out as they shone their lights inside. A large nurse shark, easily 8 feet long, slept in a corner, protected on one side by a row of collapsed barrels.

For a fishing boat, there was certainly a lot of cargo below decks. Most of the containers were unlabeled or unreadable. They made their way through the hold and back out, heading next for the captain's cabin on the main deck. The door was closed but not locked. One at a time, they entered the small chamber, careful not to catch their hoses. Jack started looking through the debris and cabinets, indicating to Jordan that she should do the same. Prying open a small drawer, she was surprised to find two handguns inside. She tapped his shoulder and pointed. He nodded, motioning to her to take one. She closed the drawer and headed out of the cabin, carrying the weapon carefully despite its obvious age. He followed with what was left of a soggy log book.

She tapped her watch. It was time to start their return to the surface. He nodded, and they began their slow ascent, angling toward the waiting boat. As soon as they were out of the water onto the dive shelf, she pulled off her mask and regulator. "Are you thinking what I am?" she exploded.

He nodded, grinning as he removed his equipment. "Smugglers? Drugs? Guns? This was no fishing boat." He pulled off his tank, continuing, "The only question is which authorities to contact. Someone is going to be very interested in taking a look at this."

They returned to the deck of the boat as they had before and stripped off their wet gear. The next 15 minutes were spent drinking water and debriefing their dive. Unfortunately the log book entries were completely illegible. The gun was a Magnum, but they couldn't tell what model or vintage. They placed both items in plastic bags, tucking them into the bottom of Jack's duffel. Jack volunteered to make a phone call Monday to some friends of his who did salvage and ask their advice on how to proceed.

"You know," he said, "I've been coming to this island for almost five years. I've always wanted to dive this area, but never had a buddy with me." He looked at her. "Glad you came along. Otherwise I never would have found this."

She cocked her head. "I thought you said Pyro came with you a couple of times."

"Yeah." He shook his head. "All he wanted to do was drink, go fishing, and make eyes at Mario's 19-year-old daughter. I gave up on him after the second trip."

She laughed. "We're just lucky we didn't sleep all day and miss the chance entirely." Looking at him, she continued, "Speaking of which, shouldn't we head back to the marina?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, getting to his feet. Together they raised the dive shelf and ladder. He turned to her. "Mind if I leave you with the rest of the cleanup?"

She shook her head and reached up for a quick kiss, surmising that his leg must be bothering him. They both knew she could do the work more quickly than he. As he took the tiller, she raised the anchor and lowered the "diver down" flag. Now all that remained was the cleaning of the wetsuits and other diving gear. She worked efficiently, finishing in time to relax for a few minutes before they arrived at the dock.

They were in luck -- the cantina was still open. Despite the nap on the boat, they were both tired from their sleepless night and the dives. They quietly recapped the findin