Taking Cover

Tanner frowned, sweeping a hand over his face to clear away the Demerol fog. "Sir?"



"Morale is the glue that bonds a unit. And when there's a problem in that department, say infighting among my officers, especially in front of my enlisted folks, it needs to be addressed."



Their flight line incident. Cutter had said it was the story of the day, apparently for everyone. Icy prickles started up Tanner's back that had nothing to do with pinched nerves.



The commander pinned Tanner with his deceptively easygoing stare. "Bennett, what's the first thing I do when I've got dissenting fliers who need to establish camaraderie?"



Those icy prickles turned into a veritable shower. He knew where this was headed, and it didn't bode well for either of them.



"Well, Captain?"



Tanner voiced the inevitable. "You send them TDY as a group."



Dawson shot him a thumbs-up worthy of Caesar at gladiator games. "Exactly. A little temporary duty together is just the ticket."



Kathleen's light gasp tugged Tanner's gaze. Every last drop of color drained from her already pale face until freckles he'd never noticed popped along her pert nose.



Lt. Col. Dawson continued as if Kathleen's telling gasp hadn't slipped free. "Get away from the rest of the squadron. Work together. Ride together. Eat together. Play together. Spend every waking hour with each other until things settle out."



It wasn't the waking hours that worried Tanner. "And what will be our official function during this TDY?"



"I'm sending you two to check out a C-17 accident. Put all that money spent sending you to safety school to good use."



"Crash? I heard something about one on the news earlier. No details released though." Tanner shed his own concerns, nothing in comparison to a crash in their small and tight flyer community. Any accident was personal. "Did anyone die?"



"No fatalities."



Tanner swallowed a relief stronger than the meds pumping through him.



"It's a test crew," the commander continued. "Only minor injuries to the loadmaster. Baker's crew, Daniel Baker."



"Crusty's crew?" Tanner exchanged a quick look with Kathleen.



The commander frowned. "Problem?"



Kathleen straightened. "We all attended the Academy together. But no, sir, that shouldn't be a problem."



Tanner wished he could be as certain. The last thing he wanted was to write up a fellow flyer—a friend.



Folding his arms over his chest, Tanner clenched his jaw shut before he said something reckless. Why couldn't he have kept his mouth closed on the runway the night before?



The commander cleared his throat and resumed the brief. "It happened last night while you were airborne. The crew was running a test mission, dropping a two-pack of Humvees. The drop went bad and ripped the ramp right off the airplane. A lesser crew would have bought it."



Or a crew that was off its stride from losing a team member.



Dawson canted forward. "So I've volunteered you two to head on over to the site and join the investigation team. See if you can figure out what went wrong. Perfect timing with Bennett being grounded for a month. You can even spend Christmas together. I call that downright serendipitous."



Serendipity stunk. The flicker of horror on Kathleen's face told him her feelings flew the same path.



But the deed was done. The best he could hope for was a good locale, one of the bases where they could lose themselves in recreation after hours. Away from each other. "And where was this test mission being flown?"



"At Edwards Air Force Base."



In the middle of the California desert. Tanner slumped back on his pillow.



Lt. Col. Dawson pushed up from his chair and swung it back against the wall. A steely warning flashed in his silver eyes, belying his laid-back attitude. "Lighten up, Captains. This will make for great reading in your performance reports. If memory serves, and I believe it does, O'Connell's got a major's board coming up. Soon, right, O'Connell?"



Kathleen's jaw flexed before she nodded.



"Thought so. This accident should be a snap to wrap up. Investigations can speed right along if the team's working together." Dawson's head cocked to the side. "Or they can drag on for weeks. Hear that, Bennett? Weeks. I sure would hate to reschedule your upgrade slot. Again."



Tanner pulled a weak smile. "Me, too, sir."



"Good enough, then. I've already submitted the paperwork for your tickets back to the states. Be packed and ready by tomorrow night." He dropped a hand on each of their shoulders. "Captains, consider yourselves tied to each others' side for the next month."



The commander nodded and loped out of the room, shooting them both a final thumbs-up just before the door eased closed. How appropriate, since Kathleen looked as if she wanted to feed him to the lions.



Two walk in. One walks out.



Diplomacy, diplomacy, diplomacy, Kathleen mentally chanted with each rapid stride through the Frankfurt airport, Tanner shadowing her. Less controversy translated into a speedier resolution to the accident investigation.



She wasn't risking another embarrassing "conference" with Lt. Col. Dawson, especially so close to her major's board. At least she could use this investigation to prove once and for all she could keep work separate from her personal life.



Focus on facts, not emotions. Her carry-on bag weighed heavily on her shoulder, packed full of faxed files for the case. Reviewing them on the plane would get her that much closer to finishing. And offer a good distraction from the insane attraction she couldn't avoid any more than Tanner's bobbing shadow, which was swallowing hers as they charged down the airport thoroughfare.



Kathleen wove through the international throng, foreign languages bombarding her from all sides. Turning sideways, she edged past a cluster of Goth teens with alabaster faces and black lips. Tanner's arm shot ahead protectively as he put his body between Kathleen and the mass of opaque fabric and pierced body parts.



Her independent nature, combined with the inclination to argue, trickled whispers of irritation through her. She squelched the urge to bristle. In the interest of diplomacy and being polite, she angled a grateful glance over her shoulder. "Thanks."



"No problem," said her ever-present shadow.



Sure their travel plans were identical, but she hadn't expected him to stick so close to her. Of course, an international airport wasn't the safest place for military personnel, thus her decision to fly in civilian clothes. Not that anyone would mess with her personal bodyguard. He sidestepped a group of airline pilots and attendants, French perhaps, given their jumbled exchange.



Tanner's bout with a pinched nerve hadn't slowed him one bit. He'd rejected all medication but a mild muscle relaxer. A dose of Flexeril and he'd bounded out of bed to report for duty.



He definitely looked fit now.



She would have expected civilian clothes to steal some of Tanner's charisma Her ex had seemed to diminish when he shed his flight suit, leaving something of himself behind and making her wonder how much of the man was real.



Not the case with Tanner. The man made the flight suit. Or the sports jacket in this case. His dark blue coat stretched over broad shoulders along with a white button-down left open at the collar. Neatly creased Dockers completed the conservative look. The clothes could have belonged to any number of traveling businessmen filing past in the crowded terminal.



The man, however, was one of a kind.



Kathleen plowed forward—smack into a group of boys. The wind knocked out of her, she gasped for breath as she righted her footing. Her vision cleared, and she assessed the wall of bodies, older teenagers, carrying oversize military issue bags and looking scared. New recruits from the states. "Sorry, soldiers."



"No problem, ma'am," one of the recruits answered.



Tanner gripped her shoulders, guiding her out of the traffic flow until she leaned back against a display window outside an airport gift shop. "You okay?"



"I'm fine."



His brow furrowed. "You're sure?"



"Yes! I'm sure! No need to make a big deal over getting the wind knocked out of me." She smoothed her hands down simple blue cotton pants, suddenly feeling underdressed.



Her hands hesitated midstroke. Why should she care about her appearance? Even if she were interested in impressing a man, it certainly wouldn't be with her wardrobe. She left those ploys to her mother and her sisters. She felt confident in her femininity, so much so she didn't need pumps and push-up bras to bolster her morale.



After years of trying to wrangle a spot in line with her perfect sisters, Kathleen had learned not to compete with their weapons. Better to make her own statement, in her own way, on her own terms.



Lights glistened off Tanner's golden-blond hair, caressed his freshly shaven jaw as he gazed down at her, genuine concern in his eyes. Kathleen fidgeted with her pearl stud earring.



Okay, maybe she wouldn't have minded a little lip gloss. She tried to scoot aside. "I'm fine. Really."



Warm and heavy, his hands hesitated on her shoulders before sliding away in a tingling trail down her arms.



Distance. She needed a moment to recoup with him out of her personal space. "How about you go on ahead to our gate and I'll meet you there later?"



"I'm not in any hurry."



"No, really." Why couldn't she shake him? "I want to pick up some postcards for my family."



"Go ahead. I'll wait."



"You're kidding, right? Don't men hate standing around while women shop?"



"Not this one." Tanner's muscled arms folded over his chest.



"Okay, Bennett, what's up?"



"What do you mean?"



"You haven't let me go anywhere alone except the bathroom since we stepped out of the cab."



He shuffled, paused to look around, then faced her with narrowed eyes. "An international airport is a dangerous place for any military person. Might as well paint a bull's-eye on our backs for terrorists."



Reinforcing Tanner's warning, cops lined the walls, nothing unusual for the airport, but it still gave Kathleen pause even understanding the risks. Armed police forces in green uniforms and jackboots carried machine guns over their shoulder. Guns with the paint worn off as if they'd been used. Often.



"You've been protecting me from unknown terrorists?" She couldn't decide whether to be irritated, amused … or oddly touched.



He shrugged, almost masking a slight wince. The movement knocked his jacket askew, leaving his left lapel flipped up. She knew she should just tell him.



Should.



Instead, her hand crept up and smoothed the coarse, warm fabric. A slow swallow slid down his neck. "Kathleen…?"



"Your, uh, lapel."



"Yeah, right. Thanks."



She resented like hell the nervous twitters buzzing through her. "It's just strange seeing you like this, I mean not in a flight suit."



Tanner ran a finger along his shirt collar. "Gotta admit, I prefer the bag myself. But this is safer."



"Safer? Ah, a businessman disguise. I guess I never thought about it in that much detail."



"Too many deployments for me not to think about it. I can't do much about the haircut, but I make changes where I can." His palm fell to rest over her fingers that still gripped his jacket.



Heat crawled up Kathleen's face. Oh, God. Had she really left her hand there all that time? "Thanks for worrying. But I'll be fine."



He didn't move.



"I don't need a baby-sitter." She yanked her hand from beneath his, her wrist still tingling from a touch no longer there.



Tanner eyed a passing couple in trench coats. Muscles rippled with tension beneath his coat until the couple passed—a baby gurgling and waving from the man's backpack kiddie seat. Kathleen sagged against the wall with relief, then stiffened.