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at the three, six, nine and twelve positions, he would not check into this sergeant.
    Personal curiosity about an episode from his past couldn’t be allowed to jeopardize his current job. If it did, the Director would fire him. With extreme irrevocability.

Chapter Three
    Another Saturday afternoon in her plywood office. While the nurses were in staff training, Theresa anticipated tomorrow’s break. Most of Camp Cadwalader worked seven-day weeks, but Colonel Loughrey ran the clinic half staffed on Sunday afternoons. Barring mass casualties, she had four hours off every fourteen days. Four hours to lounge on her bunk, ponder her leave itinerary and maybe paint her toenails.
    “Busy?” The deep voice pulled Theresa out of her reports and to her feet.
    “No, sir. Paperwork.” She blinked to merge her memory with the ruffian on the other side of the intake counter. “Sergeant Wardsen? You’re here?”
    He stuffed his boonie hat in a cargo pocket. His hair, definitely shaggy, showed the imprint as he rubbed his neck. “We were on patrol with the Afghan National Army for ten days.”
    “You look like you returned in the last five minutes.” Dirt blurred the pixelated camo patterns on his pants and shirt, and his smell rivaled the dining facility Dumpster.
    “Fifteen.” One corner of his mouth turned up as he indicated his uniform. “Guess I should’ve waited to come. The others draw lower pay, so they get first shower.”
    “No privileges for rank?” She’d learned that Staff Sergeant Wulf Wardsen was the A-team’s noncommissioned officer in charge.
    “None I’ve noticed.” He slid a folded paper across the particleboard counter. “Still get yelled at by officers.”
    Her face heated as she recalled telling him to knock it off. “I didn’t mean—” When the wicked teasing in his eyes registered in her brain, she closed her mouth.
    “The email I promised. I told the team we were chipping in for a baby gift, so they don’t know about this.”
    “You should do that. In fact, buy a baby jogger. I read about postpartum depression, and sometimes exercise helps. Wait.” She hunted on her desk, then joined him at the counter. “These are details on the new-parent-support program at Campbell. They’re trained to recognize depression, make medical referrals and facilitate infant bonding.” He didn’t smell much worse than the gym, and the trade-off for standing this close was that she could see the cleft in his chin. “And they do home visits. I emailed the coordinator last week, and she has openings for Tuesday afternoon and Thursday morning—”
    The crinkles around his eyes deepened as his lips twitched and ohmigod she’d turned into an uncapped gusher again. She shut up, but couldn’t look away. Above his stubble, his cheekbones beckoned her fingers to explore, so she locked her elbows at her sides.
    “You don’t mess around, do you, Captain?” His voice had dropped to a register that vibrated the air trapped between her skin and her loose shirt. His compliment sounded like an open-door invite straight to trouble.
    “I wanted to be ready in case you came the next day.” She bit her lower lip. In a softer voice she added, “I hadn’t realized you were in the field.”
    He stared at her so long she stifled the need to touch her hair and check for strands that had escaped today’s bun. Amber flecks swirled in his blue eyes like a whirlpool, but she needed to avoid being sucked under, no matter how much she wanted to lean close to count each speck and learn their different colors.
    “Would you like an adventure?” No one had ever asked her something so ambiguous or seemingly forbidden. “We need a female doctor to examine a village leader’s third wife. She’s pregnant. You’d fly in with us and do what you can.”
    Her chest inflated and she bit her lip to keep from cheering at the thought of going beyond the sandbags and blast wall. Aching to do anything that wasn’t paperwork for her