She smelled of…not New York. And for certain not hot helmets and battle sweat. Kara Moretti’s hair smelled of—she’d hate the allusion—his favorite mare’s mane after a long run on a cool fall day. All the promises of a filly now full grown and filled with life.
As he’d noted earlier, the woman was killing him.
They filed into Lieutenant Commander Boyd Ramis’ office. He’d taken over a flight-ready pilots’ waiting room and outfitted it with comfortable chairs and couches, a small conference table, and a desk that was less ostentatious than it might have been.
Most merely waved at Ramis or nodded. Justin always made a point of saluting. Certain people might think he was sucking up, but after he saw how much the man appreciated it in his quiet way, Justin never missed. Ramis returned the sal
