Taking Cover

Athena. Kathleen's eyes misted, and it had nothing to do with the smoke puffing from the burning brush.



He lifted a slate shingle with cactus cuttings on it. "This'll have to do for a celebration toast for now, but the keg's waiting at the O'Club when we get out of here."



She nodded, unable to speak without risking a very undignified crying jag.



He ducked into her line of sight. "Hey, if the goddess thing is too un-PC for you, I can come up with something else. We can pitch this one into the tire and work our way down that fence until we come up with a name you like. Your choice."



A tear squeezed free, and she knuckled it away. "No! It's great. Perfect." She sketched a finger along the letters and whispered. "Thank you."



Forget resolutions.



She cupped the back of his neck and leaned forward. Her lips met his for what was supposed to be a brief, thank-you kind of kiss.



Who was she kidding?



It had been one helluva day, and she deserved to have something she wanted even more than her own nickname.



She let her mouth soften under his, cling, just a leisurely sort of kiss, the kind given with ease as if it were her right. For a moment she wanted to pretend. Pretend there would be more kisses given without the need to devour every moment because the pleasure carried a promise of being repeated. Just kiss, enjoy, savor the feel of his mouth against hers.



His fingers tunneled into her hair as he…



Pulled away? She almost groaned in frustration.



Forehead to forehead, he stared back at her. "Kathleen, honey, we shouldn't start this."



Temptation proved too much, and her fingers circled his mouth. "Why?"



"Because you're hurt." He kissed her fingers once, twice, his words and mouth apparently at odds with each other.



"Make me forget about it." She scratched lightly along his bottom lip. "This beats a bottle of Motrin any day of the week."



He nipped her fingertip. "Wow, lady. You sure know how to stroke a guy's ego."



"It's not your ego I want to—"



He clapped a hand over her mouth. "Call me old-fashioned, but we're in a church."



She ducked his hand and cupped his face with hers. "There you go, being sweet again."



"I can guarantee you I'm feeling anything but sweet."



"Okay." She clasped his hand and stood, tugging as she walked backward. "So we go outside."



Their arms extended to full reach and still he didn't budge, instead tugged her back down to kneel with him. "Kathleen, think. Do you really want to do this? Now, when who knows how rattled your thinking might be?"



"Yes, I—"



"We don't have birth control."



She closed her mouth. Opened it, closed it again before saying, "Birth control."



"Our suitcases blew up in the car."



What kind of twenty-first-century woman was she to have forgotten that? And a doctor, no less. Maybe they could…



No. The last thing she needed was to get carried away in the moment and risk pregnancy. Babies were precious, wonderful, and sadly not a part of her future.



It wouldn't be fair to a child to saddle it with a mother like herself. Andrew had made it clear she was the last woman on earth he would want parenting a kid of his. Why couldn't she be soft as well as successful? He'd presented his case too well.



She couldn't hear to hear those same words come from Tanner's mouth.



Kathleen clutched her gift. "Well, I guess that settles that, then. We should probably chew on some more of that cactus, pile on pickets for the night…"



"Hey, Kathleen?"



"What?" She couldn't disguise her irritation, the flat-out frustration creeping into that single word.



He pushed to his feet, cupped the back of her neck and sealed his mouth to hers for a mind-searing kiss that ended far too soon. Tanner drew his face from hers. "If you still want me once we get to base, I'll jump you before you can say 'Joshua tree'."



Her mouth turned dry as desert sand.



And, for now, there was nothing left for them to do but go to bed.



Chapter 12



Well, he'd wanted Kathleen in his bed, but this wasn't exactly what he'd envisioned. Tanner shifted on the rock-hard church floor, a too soft and tempting woman slept in his arms, while the wind growled outside.



His arm looped around her waist just below her breasts. Her bottom snuggled against him with tormenting warmth and pressure. Heat surged south with unerring navigation.



The fates had to be laughing their butts off over this one. He couldn't have her, but he had to hold her because of the cold. The fire puffed smoke and dim lighting, but only offered minimal heat. Basic Survival 101 dictated they share body warmth.



It was working. His temp had to be in the triple digits. He'd never wanted a woman more, and he couldn't do a thing about it, thanks to her concussion. It wouldn't be honorable.



The two condoms in his wallet were all but burning a hole in his back pocket. Lying about not having them had been the toughest thing he'd ever done, but he'd run out of options for dissuading her, since she wouldn't take proper care of herself.



After his and Kathleen's kiss outside the bar, he'd promptly invested in a serious stash of birth control, even pocketed two just in case. He would be prepared to protect her.



Who'd have thought protecting her meant turning her down altogether?



His watch glowed in the hazy night. Time to wake her again in a few minutes.



It hadn't been a half bad Christmas. The look on her face when she'd traced those letters on the fence picket had erased a substantial amount of bad memories for him. He knew every Christmas for the rest of his life would include thinking of this night.



If they hiked back to base quickly enough, they should still be able to make arrangements to attend Cutter's wedding. So why the odd sense of restlessness clouding his head?



Kathleen sighed in her sleep, wriggled, sending a fresh throbbing ache through him. He gritted his teeth until she settled again, her head on his forearm, that red hair spilling in every direction over the slab floor.



He checked his watch. Two more minutes left. Close enough. He reset the alarm.



Tanner rested his face against hers, his mouth close to her lips as he whispered, "Kathleen? Time for a two-hour check."



"'Kay."



"What's the date?"



"December twenty-fifth. Early in the morning."



"Good. You can go back to sleep."



"Thanks."



"No problem, Athena."



What kind of wedding had Kathleen had? And why was he hanging out in a church imagining her in a white dress?



More important, why did it make him break out in a cold sweat in spite of the fire-hot female nestled against him?



The woman was messing with his mind with all her talk about commitment-shy men. More likely she was pinning baggage from her ex onto every other guy. "Why'd you marry him?"



He hadn't meant to say it, even half hoped Kathleen already slept deeply enough that she wouldn't have heard him.



"Why did I marry Andrew?" Her groggy whisper caressed Tanner's bare arm. "Good question. Wish I knew the answer."



Her wistful tone tweaked his conscience. Her day had sucked enough without him bringing up her dirtbag ex. Tanner tucked Kathleen closer as if that might somehow insulate her against the memories as well as the cold. "Not everything in life makes sense."



"Too true, I was in the Uniformed Services' med school when I met him. Even then I made a point of not dating flyers. Seemed a dangerous mix, given my job." Her speech slowed and slurred until he thought she'd drifted off. Then she stirred again. "He was a guest speaker for a seminar about flyers and G-force stresses to the body. He spotted me, decided he wanted me. He was persistent. Maybe it had something to do with my last sister getting married. Or maybe my biological clock was ticking with the approaching thirties. Or maybe it was just full-moon madness. I never figured it out, other than that he reminded me of an old college crush at a nostalgic moment. Big, blond and God could he talk."



The world stilled as Tanner's every thought tightened to the woman against him with her head pillowed on his arm. Did she even realize what she'd told him?



"I like a man who talks. Forget the brooding, silent types. I want to hear what's going on in a guy's head, because I'm not very good at guessing and game playing. Problem was, Andrew was a liar. So all that talk didn't mean anything. My fault for trusting him…"



Her back rose and fell with even breaths. He hoped she'd drifted off because he wasn't sure how much more he could stand hearing about her ex before he wanted to pummel the guy for hurting Kathleen. He didn't want to think about the rest of what she'd said. Not yet.



"Tanner?"



"Huh?"



"I know I've already said it, but it bears repeating. Thank you for pulling me out of the car."



He grunted, not at all interested in reliving that moment when he'd thought he wouldn't be able to unbuckle her belt. The raw spot on his hand taunted him with how close a call it had been.



"And thank you for my name."



He winged a prayer of thanks that she was alive to receive it. And he intended to keep her that way. "You're one of the guys now, so don't be surprised when the keyboard on your office computer mysteriously swaps to the Mongolian alphabet."



Her smile brushed his arm as her breathing slid into the even rhythm of sleep. Night sounds echoed around him, desert animals awake and alert in the dark outside. Finally Tanner allowed himself the adrenaline letdown, the battle aftermath that his body demanded.



He'd almost lost her.



Every breath became a struggle, like combating barbells weighting against his chest. A trembling started deep inside him, working its way out. Only his clenched jaw kept his teeth from chattering. He recognized the feeling from near misses in flight and from flying combat.



But the greater intensity this time caught him unaware. His arms shook while he held Kathleen and thought about how close she'd come to dying.



Pushing through the panic, an image of Kathleen eased into his mind. Her smile over "Athena." Her lone happy tear. Her throaty purr when they'd kissed.



The shaking eased as he let his new Christmas memories slide over the old. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Merry Christmas, Athena."



Christmas morning.



For the first time in years, Tanner woke with a sense of holiday expectation. Thanks to Kathleen.



His arms closed on the empty space beside him.



Damn. He would have liked to watch her wake up.



Refusing to let anything blot his mood, Tanner stretched his arms overhead and rolled to his back. Not bad. A few kinks, but no lingering effects from the accident or the night spent on the bare floor.



Where was Kathleen? They needed to get moving if they planned to hit the main road in time to pick up any passing church traffic. He wanted to check in at the E.R. and then with the security police, the sooner the better.



If his suspicions about the screwups and blown tires proved correct, he needed to get his wounded warrior goddess out of the battle, pronto. The commander had only meant for them to investigate. He'd probably never considered they would be in danger from someone trying to cover up the truth. But Tanner would make sure Kathleen didn't remain in harm's way. Which she probably wouldn't like.



Probably?



Better to ease his way into the discussion throughout the day.



"Kathleen?" His voice echoed through the empty chapel. Rustling sounded from overhead, birds flapping past the opening in the ceiling.



She must have gone outside, likely downing a coyote for their breakfast through just the power of her iron will. He shoved to his feet and dusted off his shirt and jeans.



The creosote bush now perched in clearer sight beside the altar, Kathleen's fence post resting at its base.