Free A Midnight Clear by Emma Barry & Genevieve Turner

there, in civilian clothes and holding a glass of what was probably scotch. “Reynolds.” His handshake was brief.
    “Sir.” Joe handed over the bottle of scotch he’d brought as a gift. “I’ve heard this is very fine single malt.” He’d had to wire his parents for the money, so he prayed the admiral liked it.
    “Very nice,” Dumfries admitted grudgingly. He set it on a side table as Suzanne brought Joe his own glass. “But you’re not here to see me, are you?”
    Joe paused with his drink half way to his mouth. “Well, I—”
    Dumfries made an impatient motion with his hand. “Oh, go on, she’s in the dining room.”
    Joe knew a dismissal when he heard one—and he’d rather chat with Frances than navigate the minefield of a conversation with the admiral. Not that he’d be able to avoid it over dinner.
    “Down the hall, third door on the left,” Suzanne said.
    He gave her a grateful smile then went in search of it.
    Frances was exactly where the admiral said she’d be, tweaking the place settings on an immensely formal table much too big for just the four of them. She didn’t look up when he came in, although she must have heard the door open. This was a big step forward for them, so he kept quiet and gave her the space to come to him.
    So he studied her, let the expansiveness of his feelings spread throughout him until he was aching from the force of it. And the wanting… he let that come too, just for a moment. The roll of her wrist, the curve of her calf, the way her dress slipped across her hips—you could put another woman buck naked in front of him and she wouldn’t tie up him with need the way this view of Frances was right now.
    Finally, she set those blue eyes on him and all of him came to sharp attention.
    “Joe.” She nibbled at her lip.
    “Frances,” he said, equally gravely. Although his entire body ached to touch her, he stayed where he was: too far away from her. “Do you eat like this every night?”
    She tucked her chin. “Not quite like this, but yes, in this room. It is the dining room.”
    “It certainly is the dining room.” A small smile from her. “Better than the mess hall, I’ve got to say.”
    A pulse of silence, beating hard between them. She lifted a hand, dropped it again. “Oh, this is so… I’m not quite sure what to do.”
    “I know what I want to do.”
    She sent him a warning look.
    “Don’t worry, I know to behave myself.” Although he didn’t want to in the slightest. If her father were anyone other than who he was… “I’ll give you this instead.” He handed over the book, reminding himself to be good.
    “Another book?” But she sounded pleased. “Jean Plaidy. My friend Sally mentioned this—she liked it. Have you read it already?”
    “Yep.” He only blushed a little. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”
    She took a step toward him, the curve of her lips speaking of mischief. “Lots of romance then?”
    Keep coming. He wanted to taste the impishness on her mouth, father be damned.
    “You two coming in here or do I need to come get you?”
    The moment dissolved under the acid of her father’s summons. So much for getting some alone time with her.
    Her expression turned rueful. “We should go.”
    He held out his arm. The admiral might have interrupted the moment, but Joe could still squeeze a little more pleasure out of this. “Shall we?”
    She tucked herself along his side, the soft scent of her perfume tickling his nose as she pressed her even softer flesh against his. This was almost as good as having her cling to him on the motorcycle.
    They made their way back to the parlor, where the admiral and Suzanne were waiting. Frances pulled her arm from his and went over to her father.
    “Do you need your drink refreshed?” she asked, the consummate hostess even with her father.
    The admiral smiled at her. “Please.” The smile died as he turned back to Joe. “Doing aviation, hmm?”
    “Yes, sir.” Admiral Dumfries had