* * *
They lay in each other"s arms for a while, talking, whispering to each other, joking at times, comfortable with each other"s skin, their bodies entwined. The talking only stopped so that they could kiss some more.
“Well, aren"t we a pair, Mr Grant?”
“We certainly are, Miss Brown.”
She got up and slipped on the jacket. “I"ll be back. Don"t go away.” Moments later, she came back with a beer for each of them. It was cold and refreshing and it suited both their moods. She sat on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest inside the jacket.
“That"s a nice jacket.”
She smiled. “It belonged to my dad. It was his old motorcycle jacket. He"d wear it all the time.”
“It"s an aviator jacket. Was he Air Force?”
“No, Dad was Army. Special Forces, then later, assigned to intelligence duties.
