Taking Cover

Damn! Now he had her doing it.



Protectiveness was all well and good, but this guy was becoming downright smothering. Or was that because his large body closed off the rest of the world from view until she only saw miles of chest and eyes so blue they could hypnotize?



Snap out of it! she chastised herself. "Just because I don't obsess doesn't mean I'm clueless about airport security overseas. It's not like I'm wearing my uniform."



He snapped. "You might as well be."



She snapped back. "What's wrong with my clothes?"



"Those blue pants and shirt look almost identical to a uniform. Your hair's even tucked up according to military regs."



"Since when did you join the fashion police?"



"Cute, O'Connell. Real cute—" He hauled in a breath and held his hands up into a T. "Time out. Let's not draw attention to ourselves by fighting."



Of course he was right, but his comment about her clothes still stung. What had Lt. Col. Dawson been thinking with his crazy plan?



Diplomacy. Diplomacy. Dimple.



Dimple?



Tanner stared down at her with a half smile dimpling one cheek. "Come on."



"Huh?"



Tanner's smile spread until the second dimple tucked into his other cheek. "We're going to get you a disguise." Kathleen followed, not that she had a choice since he wouldn't let go of her hand. His playful grin had further rocked her balance. Sure Tanner joked with everyone else around the squadron, but he saved his irritation for her.



Not now. He turned that boyish charm on her, full power, as he dragged her toward the crowded gift shop. "Let's start with the military bag. It's got to go."



"But I can't—"



"Trust me. Hmmm." He flicked through a rack of dangling tourist tote bags with expert shopping hands. No visual skimming the surface of the display for this man. "You need a big one. Got a color preference?"



Kathleen eyed the door, then resigned herself to the inevitable. "Why ask me? I'm a fashion fugitive, remember? Color coding is beyond me."



"No preference." He unhooked a fuchsia bag, logo blaring—I Did Germany Bavarian Style. His eyes glinted with mischief. "Since you don't care, how about this one? Ah, so pink isn't your color after all?"



A reluctant smile played with her lips. Her sisters had dragged her out like this before, but shopping hadn't seemed half as entertaining with them. "Not my first choice, no."



Although it had definite possibilities as a Christmas gift for her mom.



Her poor mother never had quite understood her G.I. Jane daughter. Holiday dinner talk inevitably turned to gift offers for a makeover or color coding—or invitations to join the family medical practice. Kathleen had learned to smile, nod and make her own choices once she walked out the door. She was just too different, a real changeling in their midst.



"How about this, then?" Tanner passed her a beige canvas tote with a big heart declaring I Love Germany. "Better, mein Wienerschnitzel?"



My veal cutlet? Kathleen groaned, then laughed as she swiped the bag from his hand.



He tugged the tag off and placed it on the counter by the cash register. A twirling jewelry stand towered beside her. Tanner reached past, bypassing the gold. He untangled a thong cord with a nutcracker charm hanging and draped it around Kathleen's neck. Rocking back on his heels, he spread his hands.



"Oh, yeah, that does it." He quirked a brow, grabbing a pair of matching earrings and dancing them in front of her face. "Want these, too? My treat."



"Maybe next visit."



Snagging a feathered cap, he plopped it on her head. "Or how about a hat. No?"



Tanner replaced it on the hook. Carefully crouching for a lower display, he began stacking items on the counter while the clerk rang them up. He pinned a Go Frankfurters button to the tote. A miniature beer stein key chain dangled from the handle. Three bars of Toblerone chocolate spiked from Kathleen's bag.



An unknown imp sprang to life within her, and she pulled a pocket protector full of pens from the display wall. Tanner's brow creased.



She dropped the plastic pen case on the counter. "Businessman garb for you."



He rewarded her with another smile. "You learn fast, meine toaster strudel."



That grin and a few words shouldn't have the power to bring such a heady rush of pride. Geez, it wasn't like she'd dug out a bullet under battlefield conditions. Still, she couldn't stifle an answering smile when he slid his pen holder into his shirt pocket.



After adding a German phrase book and map sticking conspicuously in view, Tanner slid his wallet free.



"Hey, wait, Bennett. I can't let you pay for all of this."



"Of course you can. It was my idea."



"No, really." She reached into her new canvas tote. "I can—"



"O'Connell. Stop. I've got some German marks to use up." He tossed down a stack of bills before he grasped her hand. "Consider it payback for those house calls. Not exactly a down payment on a summer home…"



His hand eclipsed hers just as the sensation of his touch enveloped her senses, completely, until she could only feel the warm rasp of his callused skin. Her hand twitched free, only to fidget with her nutcracker necklace. "Thank you."



"My pleasure."



She laughed, the sound tighter than she'd intended. "Decking the uptight doc out like a tacky tourist? I'm sure it was."



Genuine concern wiped away the laughter in his eyes. "Kathleen, I wasn't making fun—"



"I know." And that scared her more than if he had. Needing that distance, soon, she flicked a finger on his jacket over his pocket protector. "Now that I've got my own spy disguise, let's find our gate."



Kathleen spun on her heel and charged for the door, away from the temptation of this strangely enticing playful Tanner. Somehow this man posed an even greater threat to her peace of mind than the cranky patient and workmate.



Workmate. How could she have forgotten her number-one rule? No more relationships with flyers.



"O'Connell!" Tanner called. "One more thing."



Kathleen stopped, braced her shoulders and her resolve before turning, only to find Tanner a single step away. Heat curled through her despite Tanner's co-worker status.



"What?" She was powerless to move as she watched his big hands ease toward her, hypnotized by the thought of him reaching for her.



"Your hair." His hand snaked behind her neck and gently tugged two pins. The short tail fell free. His movements deliberate, he untwined the rubber band, fingers combing through one notch at a time.



The man bombarded her senses, when her defenses were shaky at best. His methodical attention to her hair dried all the moisture from her mouth.



Staring up at him with unblinking eyes, she found herself studying his face with a new perspective, personal rather than professional. Her fingers yearned to explore that bump in his nose, the crook having been set ever so imperfectly.



How long did it take to unbraid hair, for crying out loud? His torturously slow progress, those hands whispering against her scalp, sent shivers prickling down her spine.



The craziness had to be a by-product of abstinence. She didn't miss her ex-husband, but she certainly missed regular sex. That had to be the reason her body responded to a man she respected but wasn't quite sure she even liked.



Her mind taunted her with how much she'd enjoyed his impromptu shopping spree through the gift shop. And she couldn't recall ever being so turned on by a guy simply playing with her hair.



His fingers massaged her scalp as he swirled her hair forward. She barely managed to bite back a moan. His pupils widened in response.



Enough.



Forget camaraderie. This had to stop. Kathleen stepped back.



"Thanks. I can finish." She combed her shaking hands through her hair, the strands suddenly unbearably sensual caressing her neck. "Okay now?"



"Perfect."



His tone, low and intimate, sent a fresh wash of shivers all the way to her toes. Tanner's chest rose and fell, faster, each speedier respiration telling Kathleen more than she could handle about how much she affected him, as well.



She wanted her uniform back, with all the protection and distance its familiarity offered.



The loudspeaker crackled, announcing flights, theirs ending the list. Christmas carols replaced the droning voice. Tanner's head cocked up to the sound, his face hardening with an intensity that nudged concern past her own needs.



She couldn't stop herself from asking, "You okay?"



He looked down as if he'd forgotten her. Not very complimentary since her every tingling nerve still remembered his touch.



"Yeah, I'm fine." Tanner palmed the small of her back. "Come on, Mata Hari. Let's make tracks."



She shielded her senses against the heat of his hand. Why turn sappy just because they'd actually laughed together and he'd bought her a few tourist tokens? It wasn't like they had anything between them except a common alma mater, years of bickering…



And one unforgettable kiss.



A kiss she prayed Tanner had forgotten. If not, they had larger problems than unraveling the crash of an aircraft worth $125 million.



Chapter 4



Tanner shifted, turned, shifted again, but still couldn't manage to wedge himself comfortably in the microscopic airline seat. He would have better luck stuffing the drink cart through the tiny window beside Kathleen.



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 acknowledgment of 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.