Taking Cover

Flipping another page in his paperback, he tried to ignore his grumbling stomach. In the past five hours, he’d only eaten a cardboard croissant sandwich, five tiny bags of pretzels and two of Kathleen’s Toblerone bars. He stared across the aisle with envy at the kid snoozing the flight away.

Tanner’s hand itched to grip the stick of his C-17, to fly, instead of being chauffeured around in a civilian air taxi. He second-guessed every whine and drone of the humming engines.

Being a passenger stunk for him on a good day. This wasn’t a good day. His back hurt, his stomach was snacking on itself. And Kathleen looked so hot he couldn’t even enjoy the latest techno-thriller novel.

Tanner gave up trying to read or get comfortable and studied Kathleen, instead. She fitted in that confined space, no problem, working her way through a stack of files on the seat between them. He sometimes forgot how small she was, probably not more than five foot four.

Dwindling light filtered through the oval window, glinting off the thin wire frames of her reading glasses. They gave her a schoolmarmish air that proved curiously sexy, like her standard tight braid.

Her hair.

Tanner slammed his book shut and rubbed his palms together as if that might dispel the lingering sensation of her hair sliding between his fingers. The lingering scent of her minty shampoo on his hands. Caving to the temptation to untangle her braid had been insane. But she’d looked so cute in her tourist getup. So unusually approachable.

Like now.

The window light sparked off her free-flowing hair. Threads of gold shimmered through the auburn. Kathleen retrieved another file from the stack, the nutcracker necklace swaying between her breasts. Settling back, she compared the columns of figures on one page with another.

She’d always been the studious type, a real curve buster who set a high bar for others to match, and heaven knew he enjoyed competition. Other than those glasses and the longer hair, she didn’t look much different from the Academy cadet who’d hunched over textbooks in the library.

The woman he’d kissed until they both couldn’t breathe.

Did she remember? The thought that she might have forgotten jolted a dangerous frustration through him.

Suddenly he had to know. He had to have an acknowledgmentof that moment, even if they never intended to repeat it. Maybe then they could defuse the attraction lurking between them.

“Do you ever think about Academy days?” The question fell from his mouth, and he didn’t have the slightest desire to recall it.

She didn’t answer, didn’t even twitch or move to acknowledge she’d heard him. But her gaze stopped scanning from side to side along the page. Slowly she slid her glasses off and turned to him, her eyes wary. “Sure.”

His stomach took another large bite out of itself. “Really?”

“Of course. I spent four years of my life there.”

“Yeah.” Not what he was looking for in the way of a response, but then O’Connell had never been easy. “I remember sharing a couple of them with you.”

“Uh-huh.” Cool professionalism plastered itself right over the wariness. Kathleen shoved her glasses back on her nose. She whipped a file from the bottom of the stack and dropped it in his lap. “Check out the crew’s training reports while I review their seventy-two-hour histories prior to the crash.”

“Okay.” He opened the file and thumbed through the pages. Determination kindled within him, fueling the same competitiveness that had carried him across the goal line more than once.

It was only the first down. Be patient. Hang tough. Wait for the opening.

He read through the contents of the thin manila folder, then thumped the stack of papers in front of him. “Training reports look good. The copilot busted a check ride two years ago, only hooked the test on something minor, though, nothing reckless enough to wave a major red flag about.”

“Isn’t the copilot kind of young?”

“Compared to me? Yeah. But I pulled time as a C-130 navigator first.” Which made him all the more anxious to speed through the upgrade from right-seat copilot to aircraft commander flying left seat. He had to establish an uncomplicated working relationship with her to prove his professionalism to the Squadron Commander.

Tanner stacked the training reports and slid them inside their folder. Time for his next play, a surprise sweep around to her blind side. “It’ll be good to see ol’ Crusty again once we get to California. Remember how he used to catch hell from you about his sloppy uniform?”

“Uh-huh.” She plopped another file in his lap. “Take a look at the pilot’s seventy-two-hour history. It says here Crusty only ate burgers and dill pickles for two days before the flight. That seems odd, like he’s forgotten something. Who eats nothing but burgers and pickles?”

Second down. Stopped short of the ten-yard gain. Damn it, he would make all the time in the world for the case, after he got one thing settled.

With her head bowed over the file on the seat between them, he could see a third color threading through her hair. A deeper shade of copper mixed in with the red and gold. She glanced up. Her blue eyes shone as clear as the sky whipping past that tiny window, taunting him with a small peek when he wanted the wide open expanse.

“Bennett? Burgers and pickles?”

He regained his footing before he lost critical yardage. “Oh, uh, yeah. Crusty’s a bachelor. That probably explains it.”

“If you say so.” She scribbled a note on the top corner and flipped the page as a mother and toddler eased out of the seat in front of them.

Tanner shifted his legs from the aisle to let a woman hurry her child toward the bathroom. Minimal privacy established, he stretched his legs again. “Back at the Academy, whenever Crusty saw you coming, he would untuck his shirt or scuff his shoes, anything to catch your attention. Sure enough, you would stop and chew him out. He really had a thing for you.”

“Apparently, he got over it.”

Time to press. “He had to get over it. The whole doolie-upperclassman taboo.”

Her hands faltered. The paper shuffling stopped, and he thought he had her. Finally she would say something about the night that should have gotten them both kicked out of school.

She glanced toward him, and it was all there for him to see. The memory of that kiss scorched her mind as much as it singed his. She stared back at him, drawing him into her sky-blue eyes filled with memories. Filled with hunger. With fire.

Twelve years ago the two of them had been brimming with need and seriously lacking in sense as they’d fed on each other. Mouths meeting, hands almost as frantic as her breathy moans, sweet sounds that had eased the roar of pain in his head.

Tanner canted forward, his hand reaching. Still he remembered the glide of her hair against his skin. He couldn’t resist her healing warmth now any more than he could then. “Kathleen—”

Her eyes shuttered like clouds in front of his windscreen blocking the sky. Without a word she returned to the open file on her knees.

But her eyes weren’t scanning. Her spine couldn’t have been any straighter if she’d snapped to attention.

He slumped back against his unforgiving cement-slab seat. The woman had defensive moves that would garner serious bucks in the big leagues. He wasn’t going to get anything out of her this way.

She’d obviously done a better job at putting aside the past than he had. As if he could ever forget any of it. Of course, that night had been…beyond hell, and she’d been there for him.

Forget a touchdown. Punt the ball and salvage what he could. “About that night. I never had a chance to say—”

She slapped her file closed. “Bennett.”

“What?”

“Save the apology.”

He stared at her blasé face, her tight jaw. He hadn’t planned to apologize at all. He owed her a big fat thanks for dragging him through the worst night of his life. “Kathleen—”

“It was one kiss twelve years ago.” She flung half the stack in his lap. “We’ve got work to do. Look over these maintenance records.”

Her bland expression didn’t fool him for a minute. The slight tremble of her hands told him so much, an understated sign that screamed a clear message coming from this restrained woman.

He’d won. She’d admitted she remembered, and it had dogged her as much as it did him. Now they should be able to jettison all the sparks arcing between them.

Except he still wanted her. A woman who played by the rules scorned rule breakers like him and wouldn’t pass up the chance to ground his butt permanently if he misstepped.

Maybe Kathleen had the right idea. Reviewing pages of maintenance reports was a hell of a lot less frustrating than acknowledging those memory missiles lobbing between them.

Yet his gut told him otherwise, and flyers learned to follow their instincts. If he and Kathleen didn’t figure out a way to face the attraction and move on, it would keep tracking them, waiting until their defenses were lowered.

Then it would blast them both right out of the sky.

The Fasten Seat Belts light switched off with a ding. Kathleen slid the folders into her I Love Germany bag and readied to disembark. Ready? She was beyond ready to end the transcontinental journey and Tanner’s persistent questions about their good old Academy days.

Eleven hours total in the air, broken by a three-hour lay-over in New York, had wasted her resistance, and they still had a ninety-minute drive to Edwards ahead of them. Their flight from New York to California had been packed. They no longer had the neutral zone of an extra seat between them.

Exhausted and more than a little irritable, she’d spent the past four hours with her body molded from shoulder to ankle against Tanner. Masculine heat and musk saturated right into her. His every muscle-rippling move, and he shifted way too often for her comfort level, left her swallowing a case of sodas from the drink cart.

Not that it helped moisten her dry mouth. She didn’t bother deluding herself that it had anything to do with cabin pressure.

He moved in his seat again, stuffing the doll-size pillow behind his head before his snores resumed. Poor guy. That tiny airline seat had to have made a mess of his back. At least he’d finally acknowledged his mortal status a few hours ago and downed a couple of muscle relaxers.

Kathleen studied the big lug sprawled asleep in his seat, his broad chest clearly outlined even under the drape of an airline throw blanket. The man had a great body, always had. She would have to be blind not to notice. And she would be crazy to do anything about it—other than occasionally admire the view.

One muscled leg extended out in the aisle, with the other knee wedged against the seat in front of him. Figures he’s a sprawler.

Probably a bed hog, too.

Whoa, girl! Those kind of thoughts could just hike right on back into her subconscious, because she had no intention of exploring them further. She had a case to solve and a promotion to secure. No way would she let another hotshot flyboy interfere with her career.

Especially one with such damned distracting dimples.

Kathleen started to reach for his shoulder and he shifted, flinging his arm across her lap. His hand rested, palm up, searing her leg through her cotton slacks.

She forced her breathing to regulate.

Just a normal hand, five fingers and his Academy ring. Except that hand flew planes with the same finesse he’d used to scramble her brains back in the airport with a few caresses to her head.

What would those callused fingers feel like exploring her bare skin? Her heart rate kicked up a notch.

Scooting her leg from under his hand, Kathleen gently nudged his foot with hers. “Rise and shine, hotshot. We’re here.”

He jackknifed upright, eyes wide as he woke without hesitation. At the sharp movement he paled, and a curse slipped free with enough force to make her wince.

“Are you okay?”

“Take off your stethoscope, Doc. I’m fine. Just slept crooked and moved too fast.” He shoved aside the pillow and blanket and stood, stretching. His arms arced over his head in a muscle-rippling reach.

She tore her attention from his chest.

Couldn’t she display a little sympathy without him turning defensive? Given the thrust of his jaw, apparently not. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” He hefted his bag from the overhead storage.

“Fair enough. I’ll put away the MD.” Kathleen shoved aside her hurt feelings and shrugged her bag onto her shoulder.

She wedged into the crowded aisle behind Tanner as he turned sideways to fit through the narrow passageway. Did his slow swagger hide genuine pain? He needed bed rest, not an eleven-hour flight in a cramped airline seat.

Had he been home in Charleston, one of his girlfriends would have been pampering him, plying him with eggnog and TLC. Who was he seeing now? Tiffani, Brandi or some other woman with a name ending in an I with a heart over it.

Kathleen inched forward, mentally kicking herself for thoughts that bordered on petty. Tanner wasn’t a bar hound collecting a different bimbo every week like some crew dogs, such as her ex-husband or Lance Sinclair before he married. Gossip and her own observations revealed Tanner had a relationship pattern.

She didn’t want to ponder overlong on why she’d bothered to listen to gossip about his love life.

All stories ran the same path. He held steady for six months to a year. Then one of them broke it off for any number of lame reasons.

Another common thread ran through it all. The Brandi, Tansi, Candi types were all needi—needy. And no doubt about it, Tanner was a man who thrived on watching out for people. His protectiveness in the German airport had only been a sampling.

Kathleen had been born taking care of herself. She’d never needed rescuing, except for two brief moments. Once when she’d fallen out of a tree as a kid and sprained her wrist, and later in a rock climbing accident that had left her with a broken ankle. Both times the helplessness had been hell.

Much like Tanner must have felt in the infirmary.

The thought blindsided her, tangling her feet for a startled moment. Who would have expected she could find a common bond with Tanner Bennett?

They approached the cheery flight attendant by the cock-pit. The woman bestowed an extra bright smile with her “bye-bye” for Tanner.

He ducked to clear the airplane doorway, barely disguising his wince. Kathleen resisted the urge to stroke a comforting hand over his broad back. He would likely accuse her of plotting another hospital stay.

So what if her name didn’t end with a sweet and softening i? That didn’t mean she couldn’t offer a little compassion when someone deserved it.

Her bedside manner did not suck, damn it.

She winced. All right, maybe she wasn’t the soft and cuddly type like her mom and sisters. She’d learned long ago to stick with what she knew and did best, then no one would be disappointed.

Kathleen locked away her conciliatory remarks. For this trip she wasn’t Tanner’s doctor. She wasn’t his Academy bud. And she wasn’t the woman who would tend to his aching back. She was nothing more than his workmate.

Her hand skimmed down the nutcracker necklace that weighted like a ten-ton reminder of Tanner’s hundred-watt smile.

Tanner crossed his arms over his chest and braced his feet as the shuttle bus plowed around a corner toward the rental car building. The ever-present L.A. smog battled with misting rain to haze out visibility. Drizzle streaked the windows, the overcast sky mirroring his mood.

Kathleen hadn’t released her grip on the seat in front of them. There wasn’t a chance the bus driver’s haphazard speedster techniques would fling her against him. The stubborn set of her jaw and white knuckles told Tanner she wouldn’t budge if they hurtled into a three-car pileup.

He’d made her mad, not unusual, except he had no idea what he’d done this time. The comments about their Academy days? Maybe. But she’d handled it, stopping him dead with a chilling stare. He couldn’t dodge the notion that he’d hurt her feelings somehow.

That bothered him more than any of their bickering.

The shuttle bus squealed to a shuddering stop in front of the rental car building, puddles sluicing up onto the sidewalk. Tanner followed Kathleen’s stiff back and trim, too-enticing hips all the way inside.

Wasn’t she going to talk to him? They couldn’t resolve anything if she wouldn’t speak. That woman had the silent treatment down pat.

He would wait her out.

Not that he’d ever been the patient type.

Just hang tough. The ninety-minute drive to base would likely stretch into a couple of hours, thanks to rush hour traffic.

Oddly, he missed sparring with her. Mental boxing matches were something he shared with Kathleen alone. The women he dated had always been more agreeable, yet something about Kathleen’s bristly manner put him at ease and fired him up all at once. One of their lively exchanges would spark up a dreary day.

Kathleen advanced in the line to the garland-strewn counter. One of the twenty androgynous agents droned, “Driver’s license, proof of insurance and credit card, please.”

Tanner reached for his wallet.

So did Kathleen.

Uh-oh.

He sensed her silent treatment was about to come to an abrupt end. Anticipation churned inside him as it did during those last sixty seconds before take off.

His hand twitched on his wallet. “I always drive on TDYs.”

“So do I.” Kathleen flung her canvas tote onto the counter and began digging for her wallet in earnest.

“And I’m going to look like a real chauvinist if I say I want to drive, anyway.” Tanner tried to keep his tone light, a smile in place, but suspected the annoying tic in one eye might give him away.

She planted a hand on the counter and perched her other hand on her hip. “I’ll make this easy on us. Who has the rental car on their travel orders? Military joint travel regs state that’s who is responsible for the car. Need me to cite the reg?”

“Ah. The regs.”

“They’re there for a reason, Bennett.” Kathleen pivoted on her heel and fished out a file just as Tanner yanked his orders from his carry-on. She opened the file.

The small flash of victory in her tired eyes said it all.

Damn. More right-seat copiloting for him. Stepping back, he raised his hands in surrender. “Chauffeur away.”

At least Kathleen didn’t gloat over her win, merely passed her driver’s license and military travel orders to the impatient clerk.

Outside, Tanner frowned at the overcast sky. Sixty degrees and drizzling, the weather would make for a miserable ride out. They wouldn’t even reach base before dark.

Keys jingling with her brisk walk, Kathleen wove between lines of cars. Tanner kept his eyes off her backside this time. The last thing he needed were thoughts of those slim hips taunting him for the next two hours in the car. As long as he kept his distance until she cooled off and started talking again, he would be fine.

Then he saw “it” in a deserted corner of the lot.

Their car. If it could be called that.

How could he have forgotten? The government always opted for econo-class compacts. If he managed to wedge himself inside, there wouldn’t be an inch to spare between them.

Kathleen unlocked her door, tossed her luggage on the back seat, then paused halfway in, staring over the roof at Tanner. “What now?”

He looked back and tried not to notice the mist dampening her shirt. “I wonder if they have anything smaller.”

Her brow furrowed as she glanced around the lot, cars starting and departing at a regular pace. “I don’t think so.”

“No, really. They must have a scooter back there. It would probably be more comfortable.”

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