Over the Edge by Suzanne Brockmann Page B

of her one mistake all these years later. And he wanted to rip off his head for showing up at her house last night, for making her afraid to go home.

    He was determined to protect her from Hogan.

    And he knew that he would protect her from himself as well.

    Stan knew how to deal with inappropriate feelings of lust. He knew what was and wasn’t right between a man and a woman, between officer and enlisted, between himself and sweet Teri Howe.

    Teri was a fantasy. Plain and simple. He could be honest and mature enough with himself to admit that. He was a big enough boy to know the difference between fantasy and reality.

    And he could sit here with her, absolutely and truly being her friend, and still have moments of intense lust. He was human, he was male, she was amazing in every possible way.

    She was smart, funny, and impossibly soft beneath that tough, efficient exterior. She had a face like an angel, a body to die for.

    And yes, it was okay that he wanted her. But it wouldn’t be okay to let her know it. And it sure as hell wouldn’t be okay to act on it. So he wouldn’t. Period. The end.

    “I’ve wanted to fly since before I can even remember,” she was telling him. “And then Lenny moved in and—”

    “Lenny?” Stan asked, instantly jealous, then instantly incredulous and amused at himself. God, get a grip, Wolchonok.

    “The former SEAL I was telling you about? Except he never told my mother that he was a veteran. It was bad enough she was living with a Lenny. I don’t think she could have handled knowing he’d fought in Vietnam, too.”

    Lenny, the SEAL from ’Nam, was her mother’s lover. Okay. That made sense. And it erased the troublesome and lingering pictures he’d had of Teri hooked up with a sixty-year-old man.

    “He told me all about it, though,” she told him. “As much as he hated ’Nam, he loved being a SEAL. It was the best thing that ever happened to him. And when he found out I wanted to fly, he . . .” She laughed, shook her head. “Do you really want to hear all this?”

    “What, do I look like I’m falling asleep?”

    “No. But I know your darkest secret, so . . .”

    He scowled at her, but she was still laughing. Either she knew he was hot for her and honestly didn’t mind, or she didn’t really know his darkest secret.

    She leaned closer, and he got a whiff of her hair and an eyeful of her breasts, tight against the cotton of her shirt, nipples clearly outlined.

    Oh, shit. Don’t get a hard-on. Don’t get a hard-on. As soon as he did, guaranteed, Jazz would need him and he’d have to stand up and . . .

    “It’s that despite the hard-ass reputation, you’re really just a softy,” Teri told him, her voice low so no one else could hear.

    There was a delightful teasing light in her eyes, but Stan found himself hypnotized by her mouth, by the perfect, graceful shape of her lips, by the thought of those lips . . .

    Oh, freaking perfect. He yanked his gaze away and waited for Jazz’s inevitable summons. But it didn’t come.

    She’d just called him a softy.

    The irony was unbelievably intense, and Stan couldn’t keep himself from laughing. He heard himself make a sound that was remarkably close to a giggle, and that just pushed him even further over the edge.

    Ah, dignity. It was overrated anyway.

    Teri was laughing, too, clearly pleased with herself for making him crack up so completely, even though she didn’t really understand what was making him laugh.

    “I want to sit with you guys and have some of whatever it is you’re drinking,” WildCard said as he passed by on his way to the head at the back of the plane.

    Stan finally caught his breath. “Lieutenant, believe me, I enjoy your company very much. I’m glad we’re friends.”

    “Me, too, Senior Chief.” She looked out the window again, as if she suddenly didn’t want to meet his gaze.

    Shit. What had he just said that had embarrassed her?

    “So what did Lenny do when he found