As many of you have probably heard, Denisea Kampe and I are resurrecting our characters from a previously published anthology we wrote with a few other friends which is no longer available. We never managed an ending to the sordid tale of the MARSOC team we created in our imaginations and after much brainstorming, we came up with a plan. We’ve been at it for several weeks now and we’re coming into the home stretch, so for this week’s WIP Wednesday, Denisea thought she’d share a bit of what she wrote this week from our joint project, Rogue Nation. Enjoy!
“Fifteen minutes early for everything,” Alli mumbled, making her way to the answer the door at straight up ten forty-five the next morning. “I’m getting way too used to civilian life for my own good.”
After she’d texted back a mere two words, yes, Gunny, Alli hadn’t heard another peep out of Brogan. With her jeans still unzipped, no shirt on, and one earring still in her hand, she peered through the peephole to confirm whoever had knocked was indeed Brogan. She couldn’t help but grin. There he stood looking straight at the peephole with his signature bright smile and a fresh haircut. Then he did the damnedest thing. He backed up a few feet and spun with his arms out giving Alli a full view of his tight ass draped in snug denim and biceps bulging out of the sleeves of his polo shirt. When he turned back facing the door with his hands in his back pockets and winked as if he knew she was checking him out, her middle twisted in a knot and her heart fluttered.
“You’re early,” she said, pulling the door open and waving for him to come in, vulnerability swamping her as his eyes roamed her half-dressed state. If the burning sensation fluttering over her skin was part of intimacy, she’d take it.
“Habits, babe.” Brogan came within inches of her and ran a finger along her jaw then down the side of her throat, and when she thought he’d trace a path down her breast bone, he instead reached up and fingered the delicate gold hoop hanging from her earlobe. “Don’t take it as a sign we have to hurry. We have plenty of time.”
“Foooor…” Alli raised her eyebrows and shrugged.
“Not a chance.” He chuckled and tapped the end of her nose. “Not showing my hand that easily. Go finish getting ready.”
A few minutes later, Brogan handed her into his Rover and they were on their way. To where, only God and Brogan knew and neither of them were telling.
“You look nice,” Brogan said, pulling onto the freeway and heading west. “I think you’re finally gaining some weight back. Healthy looks good on you.”
“Thank you,” Alli said over a smile. “You look nice, too. Don’t you think leaving before noon is a little early for dinner reservations? How far away is dinner?”
“You really need to brush up on your interrogation methods. Subtlety goes a long way.”
“I’m a pretty straight shooter. I thought you were, too. Why skirt things when we can cut straight to the chase?”
“Touché,” Brogan said, reaching down to switch the playlist on his iPod. “Straight to the chase it is. You all but told me I’m an anal retentive ass. No reservations. I’m winging it here. It’s giving me heart palpitations, but I’m trying to let go of an inch. Give or take.”
“Ah, I see. On a solo without a flight plan. I’m intrigued. Any clue as to how you’re going to fill the next six to eight hours before you figure out where the dinner is you ordered me to attend?” Alli kicked off her wedge heels and drew one leg under the other, turning in the seat to face him, then reached out and ran her fingertips over his freshly cut hair.
“I know where the dinner is.” He reached up and tugged her hand down, entwining their fingers. “And we’re headed in the right direction.”
“Well, at least we’re not lost.”
“Oh, I’m lost alright. You have no idea how damn lost I am.” He drew her hand up and planted a kiss on the back of it then held it there for several minutes as a gentle quiet fell between them.