All's Fair in Love and War

Dana was bone tire, without a doubt. She had traveled to North Africa for two days straight. The jet lag coupled with the excitement of covering the strife in Darfur had her exhausted and on the edge. An hour ago she met up with her videographer, Pete. Now, they were both waiting in the mess hall of the British headquarters waiting for a Captain Rickard Spenser.

"Dana you look exhausted," said Pete. She rolled her eyes.

"I feel it, trust me," said yawning uncontrollably.

"Where is this captain? Wasn't he suppose to be here some thirty minutes ago?" she asked irritably.

Pete shrugged..."We're no longer on Chicago time, Dana," he quipped. She frowned. After ten more minutes, she decided to succumb to the sleep Gods.

When she awoke, she heard a deep voice speaking with Pete. She pried her eyes open and immediately found herself staring into the deepest blue eyes, she had ever seen. They were absolutely gorgeous. Her tired eyes widened, as they perused the entire face.

A green beret was on top of the man's head, slightly tilted over one eye. His hair was dark brown and cut very close to his head, a typical military crew cut. His nose was cute – button like. His jaw was square and very strong. And his lips...were ...perfect.

She lowered her eyes in shyness. But he pulled her eyes back up in curiosity and awe. He had to be at a least 6'4 she thought and she took in his shoulders, rock hard chest and ...

"Dana?" Pete called. She pulled herself from the vision of manliness.

"Yes, I'm awake. I'm so sorry about falling asleep." She sputtered wanting to kick herself. Pete laughed.

"No worries. Anyway, our interview is here. Captain Rickard Spenser, please meet my reporter Dana Simpson. Dana, Captain Rickard Spenser in charge of troupe 5296."

Dana stood up and extended her hand for a shake, reveling at how incredibly wrong it was for someone to be so hot. She felt herself grow moist inside of her panties, and stifled a moan.

Rick walked into the mess hall. He was frustrated, hungry and very tired. He had no time to deal with reporters or photographers of any kind.

He would give these people five minutes tops. As he turned the corner, he saw a woman slumped over the table and appearing to be asleep. He snorted ticked off.

"Americans." He muttered, and walked over to the man who was cleaning his gear.

"I'm Captain Rickard Spenser." He said. Pete stood up and extended his hand.

"Captain. Thank you so much for meeting with us. I'm Pete Rodriguez. This is my reporter, Dana Simpson. She just arrived and has obvious jet lag." Pete smiled.

Rick looked around him, and stared at the woman. She was snoring softly. He turned back to Pete.

"I see. Well whenever you are ready we can do the interview. I do have another appointment in 30 minutes." Pete began pulling out his equipment just as Dana woke up.

Rick looked back at her just as she was opening her eyes. She looked drowsy...and beautiful. He swallowed. She had almond shaped dark brown eyes that stared questioning into his.

Her face was exotic...smooth as silk, high cheekbones and her lips were full and pouty, the kind you just wanted to suck on – or have suck on you. He felt himself stir in his trousers and shifted his feet, leaning on one, and putting his hands on his hips.

She blinked as if clearing her head and stood up, extending her hand to him. She wore a black, fitted dress shirt – that did nothing to hide her curves, jeans and sturdy, Nike brown boots that came over her ankle.

His eyes darkened as he took her hand. It was strong, yet soft and gentle. He felt a spark the moment their hands met. Did she feel it too? She seemed to blush, but her milk chocolate skin did nothing to reveal it. Her eyes did.

Dana swore she felt a sharp tingle when their hands touched. She shot her eyes up to his and immediately looked away as soon as hers met the piercing stare of the captain's.

He cleared his throat and put his hand back on his hip. She turned away, picking up her fanny pack.

Pete noticed the tension and cleared his throat.

"So, where did you want to do the interview Captain."

A few hours after the interview, Dana found herself standing next to the captain as Pete broke down his equipment. Just as she worked up the nerve to speak to him, a woman solider came over to them, and pulled him aside.

She was talking closely to him. At the end of the conversation, she leaned up and kissed him. Dana's eyes widened and she turned away.

She was washing the dishes she and Pete at from, in the mess hall. They were instructed to fend for themselves while at the British headquarters, meaning food was available but they would have to prepare it and clean up after themselves.

She was lost in thought when she heard someone walking into the kitchen. She looked up and immediately looked away. He had a grim look on his face.

"Good evening, Ms. Dana."

"Good evening, Captain." She smiled.

"You don't have to do the dishes, we have someone who does them." He said, coming over to her.

He enhaled her amazing scent. She made him nervous...and horny like a randy 16 year old.

"Oh, that's fine. I don't mind doing it. " she smiled. He stared at her. She went back to the dishes. He stared at her for a moment more watching as she bit her bottom lip and sucked on it.

"Well if you insist, I will help dry them." He smiled.

"Why Captain...I am surprised." He grinned.

"Why?" he took the plate from her.

"I – I just thought that nevermind." She shook her head.

"No really...what?" he asked. She smiled up at him...

"You're so big and strong...and I thought men like you don't do dishes." She said.

He looked surprised. "Well, I'm not sure what men like me do...but I do dishes and a lot more." He said, looking deeply into her eyes.

She read the desire in them, and looked away, back down at the dishwater. They cleaned and dried in silence for a moment.

"So, how are you liking it here so far?" he asked.

"I actually am enjoying myself. Your team has been incredible." She said, leaning over the counter to get the pot.

He watched as her tee shirt pulled tightly against breasts – perfect breasts. She felt him staring at her, and dropped the pot in the water.

The water splashed all over her – soaking her tee shirt. She gasped and jumped , bumping into him, her slid his wet hands around her waist.

They froze.

She looked up at him, he was staring at her wet tee shirt – her nipples were large and poking through the wet material.

He felt his growing erection pressing against his khakis. He groaned and leaned down...just as their lips were about to meet - his mobile phone rang. She pulled away, and grabbed a towel.

He turned his back and took the call. When he got off the phone and turned about around she was gone. He swore, jerked off his beret and ran his fingers through his hair.

How could he be so stupid! He almost kissed the reporter! He leaned against the sink and swore again, slapping his beret against his knee.

He had been thinking about her all day, since their morning interview. When he'd seen her in the kitchen, all he wanted to do was get close to her, get to know her – not jump her bones. Not yet. He groaned at his mistake.

With nothing else left to do, he finished her dishes and went to his room.