8
JD still couldn’t get a read on what Cindy was thinking. She was not a woman who wore her thoughts on her sleeve. Or on those beautiful lips.
Her smile had either said that’s all she thought the op was, an interesting challenge. Or was it some sort of double entendre about himself. He just couldn’t tell. He could hope, but he couldn’t tell.
Once they were seated side-by-side in the Viper—hot lady in hot car inside a combat aircraft, damn but he was doing something right—he reached into the miniscule glove compartment. The car’s cockpit was so tight, he was practically in her lap to do so. He still didn’t know if that was welcome or not, so he pulled back as fast as he could.
“Here’s your ID.” He handed her a battered set of Mexican papers.
She riffled them open, “Gloria Chavez.”
“I
