Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors #2)

Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors #2) Page 14

All evening?

Thoughts of having Kathleen had tortured him for years. Now that he would finally have her, he didn't intend to rush. Yeah, he looked forward to removing those leather pants, but with torturously slow precision, discovering, tasting, sinking into a fantasy he'd never expected to live out.

He forced a laugh to ease an ache that made his back's stint seem like a cakewalk. "Good thing one of us has sense."

Her tremulous smile faltered until it collapsed like a marionette with cut strings. "Sometimes those IQ points are a real pain."

"A few minutes delay won't kill us."

"Delay?"

"Yeah, until we get back to my room. Or yours. Doesn't matter to me." His fingers tightened on her shoulders. "It'll be worth the wait."

Kathleen stopped swaying. "I don't think you understand."

Tanner stroked his thumb along her neck. "Then explain."

"This can't happen." The rapid beat of her pulse beneath his thumb belied her words. "We can't finish."

"Can't finish?" He searched for indecision in her eyes and found a cargo hold full. Tanner advanced a step, slid his hands down her back and studied the mouth he planned to take again in another second. If holding her, kissing her was all he could have tonight, then fine. It would be enough. For now. "Then we'll just keep not finishing."

Her hand shot toward his chest, stopped, didn't touch. "No. I mean never."

His pinky started throbbing right along with another larger part of him. He backed two steps away from the tempting image of Kathleen perched on the hood. "Okay. I hear you. But why? And don't toss me that 'no pilots' line. We've known each other too long for it to be as simple as that."

When she didn't answer, he scrounged for the right words. He was trying like hell to be reasonable, sensitive … persuasive. The woman worshiped logic, after all.

"I want you, Kathleen. Hell, it's no secret I've always wanted you, and it's tearing us both up to the point we can't work." Tanner watched her grow still. And she wasn't arguing. He forged ahead. "We're both adults. Neither of us is seeing anyone else. What's to stop us from getting this out of our system once and for all?"

She sat at least four inches taller. "Get me out of your system?"

Uh-oh. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"Not that."

"Then what?"

He shifted from one foot to the other, checked out the stars for guidance, found none. "It's not like we're looking for anything long-term. You know you'd want to kill me inside a month."

"A week. Then we'd still have to work together."

He cupped her face with his palm. "But it would be one hell of a week." She tensed beneath his hand and he started to pull away. "Fine. You're right."

She stopped his hand with hers and held it to her face, pressed a slow kiss in his palm, before lowering it. "I'm sorry."

Damn, he deserved to have his other pinky twisted. He needed to quit thinking below the belt and remember this woman deserved better from him. He'd been a hormonal cretin from the minute he'd seen her sitting with the randy inspector.

"Tanner, if it helps, I'm just not a casual sex kind of woman. No matter who the guy is."

"It does help. And it doesn't." At least he didn't have to worry about Randall Fitzgerald anymore.

"Maybe I'm crazy, but somehow I got the idea you weren't into casual sex, either. Something about treating women the way you would want some guy to treat your mother and your sis—" She screeched to a halt, but not soon enough. "Oh, God, Tanner. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

The already cool night chilled another ten degrees.

In the wake of the icy shower of her words, Tanner heard the low rumble start in his ears. If he let that roar build, it could too easily lead him into begging for the forgetfulness only Kathleen seemed able to offer. "Forget it. It doesn't matter, and you're right. Enough talking. Time to down a couple of those muscle relaxers and pack it in for the night."

Tanner extended his hand to help her from the hood.

She didn't budge. "Did you drink anything?"

"No, Doc." He shouldn't be surprised by her logical concern about him mixing medication and alcohol. But he resented her ability to think clearly when the lingering effects of their kiss still had him on shaky ground. "I ordered a beer for appearances with Crusty and didn't touch it."

"Okay."

Then Kathleen surprised him.

She dropped the keys in his hand. "I'm not in any condition to drive now."

Kathleen ignored his extended hand and hopped from the hood. Her head high, spine rigid, she made her way to the passenger side. He would have thought Kathleen unaffected if it weren't for the keys in his palm and the small dent in the hood of the car.

She might be right about them not finishing anything tonight. But she was wrong about expecting him to back off.

Kathleen might have the IQ of a rocket scientist, but she'd missed the mark this time. They couldn't walk away from what they'd started. Chemistry like that didn't come along every day.

They were going to finish it. Before it finished them.

Kathleen wanted to finish it, longed to take it all, but feared the whole pot of java wouldn't jolt her to life after her restless night. Standing beside the lobby coffee machine, she replaced the carafe on the warmer and resigned herself to making do with the measly twelve ounces in her travel mug.

A corner of her hopeful brain had decided she'd exaggerated her response to Tanner all those years ago. One kiss and she would know the truth.

The truth had not set her free.

The truth had her by the jugular, and she didn't know how to shake loose. Kissing Tanner had been nothing like twelve years before. She couldn't possibly have remembered the intense reaction and still allowed herself to become so close. Almost friends. Vulnerable.

Which was why she had to forget about their lip lock of the prior night. If kissing him could turn her into mindless mush, then making love with him would zap every ounce of control she'd cultivated.

Heavy treads sounded from the stairwell just before the lobby door opened. One flash of golden-blond hair and already her heart pumped a hummingbird's pace. Kathleen turned away, busying herself with selecting the perfect napkin from the drink cart.

"Good morning, Kathleen." Tanner reached past her shoulder for a cup, then the pot, never touching. Just too close for her to ignore.

Kansas would have been too close.

She sidled away, downing a scalding gulp from her mug as she eyed Tanner over the lid. Would he be angry? Men in a testosterone snit could be testy. She wasn't feeling all that pleasant herself.

Worse, what if none of it mattered to him? Lighthearted Tanner could shrug off anything, including one parking lot turn-down from his least favorite flight surgeon.

With a familiar gleam in his eyes, Tanner returned her stare over the top of his cup. She'd seen it the last time he'd headed into combat, and she knew that look. Focused determination.

Focused on her.

He hadn't forgotten. Tanner hadn't shrugged one second of their kiss off those broad shoulders.

A rogue shiver of unwanted excitement prickled over her. Followed by numbing determination. He might be circling, but she intended to set boundaries with impenetrable defenses. They had two weeks to wrap up the investigation before Christmas. She intended to be home in time to finish her shopping.

Kathleen reached into her left breast pocket His gaze trailed her every movement as she withdrew a slip of paper. He didn't linger.

He didn't need to. Her memory supplied plenty of details about her br**sts pressed to his rock-solid chest. Another steely hard part of him pressed—

She set her jaw and offered him the scrap of paper. "Here."

Tanner took it without touching her. Not that he needed to. "What's this?"

"A chiropractor appointment. Yours. We should be finished checking out the wreckage with Quinn and Crusty in plenty of time for you to make it this afternoon."

His thumb worked over the print as if that might erase the time. "I assume this is non-negotiable."

"You got it, hotshot Direct orders from your doc." There. Boundary number one. Doctor-patient distancing established. On her own turf, she felt steadier already.

Tanner cocked his head to the side, silent for once as he studied her. Assessing the opponent for weaknesses?

He wouldn't find them.

Slowly he folded the paper and slid it into a sleeve pocket Kathleen exhaled her relief. Until she noticed the careful manner in which he worked the paper. Favoring his pinky. His puffy, swollen pinky.

Her boundaries surrendered crucial ground.

Kathleen extended her arm. "Let me see your hand."

"What?"

"The pinky I twisted. I need to make sure I didn't break it."

He folded his arms over his chest, holding his cup in one hand, tucking his other out of sight. "You didn't."

"Pardon me if I don't trust you to be honest about your medical condition." She snapped her fingers as she set aside her mug. "Hand, please."

With a you-asked-for-it look, he unfolded his arms. He rested his hand in hers, slowly, precisely, so damned seductively she stifled a tiny moan. His roughened skin rasped against her as it had the night before. Calluses marked him a physical man. That hand could have immobilized her with its strength, yet instead he'd paralyzed her with a gentle caress.

Could do so again.

Scavenging for every professional instinct she'd ever honed, she cradled his hand in both of hers and examined him. Routine comforted her, her science the one dependable thing in her life. She finally released his hand. "Sprained, but not broken. I don't suppose you iced it last night?"

"I had other things on my mind." His eyes deepened from warm blue to something molten hot with memories.

She needed to reestablish those boundaries post-haste before she ended up in full retreat. The ice machine might not be as far away as Kansas, but it would have to do.

Kathleen snagged a paper cup from the table and strode to the machine. Scooping the cup through, she filled the makeshift ice pack. "Stick your finger in this on the way over to the hangar."

He fished the keys from his pocket. "You're determined to make me suffer."

"I'm determined to do my job." Kathleen shoved the cup in his hand. While he was distracted, she snagged the keys from his other hand and spun on her heel, making tracks for the parking lot.

Driving to the hangar, Kathleen found that five minutes dragged on interminably without conversation. She had too much time to think, and her reasonable mind settled on the obvious. She needed to cut ties officially as his doctor.

Not that she planned to pursue a relationship with him.

But the attraction had escalated until it interfered with her judgment. That was inexcusable. She'd made the mistake before. While she hadn't been the one to sign her ex-husband's medical waiver to fly, she'd known it was questionable, likely given as a favor to her. And she hadn't said a word because she'd feared kicking another prop from under her already shaky marriage.

Failure was unacceptable.

Sometimes she wondered if she was more upset over facing her family's disappointment yet again than she had been over losing Andrew.

Her hands trembled. Kathleen gripped the steering wheel to steady them, careful to keep her ten-two hand positioning. Middle of the lane. Three miles an hour under the speed limit. In control of her world.

She would contact the Edwards AFB Clinic for a consult with one of their flight surgeons. He could care for Tanner temporarily, and when they returned home, one of the other flight surgeons could take over the big lug's treatment. With her blessing.