Читать книгу Taking Cover - Catherine Mann - Страница 9

Kathleen hovered in the doorway of Tanner’s hospital room, unable to draw her gaze away from the man who had filled her thoughts too often that morning. Flat on his back, he took up the whole bed. A dimple flashed in his unshaven jaw as he laughed with Cutter. Tanner’s exuberance for life hadn’t dimmed, even after a downing injury and a hefty shot of Demerol.

She watched the two men talk with their hands, typical flyer “talk,” their hands flying tandem aerial maneuvers.

Her guard perilously shaky of late, she envied them their camaraderie, the easy exchange apparent in most flyers. She knew better than to blame their exclusion on her being a woman. Years of growing up the misfit in her family had left her with the assurance she simply didn’t get it. Relationships. Her ex had confirmed the conclusion through his lawyer.

So she stood alone in the hospital doorway, feeling too damn much like the little girl who perched in trees with a book about bugs. All the while peering down at a blanket full of her sisters and their friends having a tea party picnic.

Tanner’s laughter rumbled out into the hall. Teams and partnerships bemused her. She understood in theory, but in practice…she couldn’t make it work. The flyers respected her yet didn’t include her. Her nickname—or lack of one—being a prime example.

Flight surgeons were sometimes given honorary call signs, like Grayson “Cutter” Clark or Monica “Hippocrates” Hyatt. Kathleen was just “Doc,” the generic appellation afforded any doctor who hadn’t received the distinction of a naming party.

Not that she wanted to change herself just to be a part of some flyers’ club. Flying solo offered fewer risks.

Before she’d helped Tanner into his clothes, she’d regained her objectivity, barely. She wouldn’t let her guard further crumble, regardless of how cute he looked in that incongruous hospital gown.

Kathleen rapped two knuckles on the door just beneath a miniature Christmas wreath. “Hello, boys.” She gestured to their flying palms. “Shooting down your watches with your hands again?”

Tanner started, looking up at Kathleen in the doorway. A painful twinge worked its way through the Demerol, but he resisted the urge to wince.

Her half smile, wry though it was, shook his focus. His hands stopped aerial maneuvers and landed on the bed. “Hi, Doc.”

Cutter glanced from one to the other, his brows pleating. “Did it just get chilly in here? Time for me to punch out.” He passed the chart to Kathleen on his way to the door. “I’ll check in with you both later.”

Her smile faded as Cutter left. Disappointment nipped Tanner. Too much.

He wanted to bring that smile back. What a crazy thought. Must be the drugs again. Regardless, Cutter was right. Kathleen—

Kathleen?

Tanner frowned, and refocused his thoughts. O’Connell deserved an apology. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“What?” Still no smile in sight, not a surprise since her face looked frozen with shock.

Tanner inched up. “I shouldn’t have given you hell on the flight line. It’s not your fault my back’s out. Are there some torturous tests you want to run so I can pay my penance?”

Her gaze skittered away, and she flipped through his chart, avoiding his eyes. “Just follow the recovery plan.”

“I intend to be a model patient.”

“Music to my ears.”

“The sooner this is over, the sooner I can get back on a crew. I don’t expect you to understand, Doc.”

Her head snapped up. The diamond glint in her eyes could have cut glass. “Why not, hotshot?”

“Hey, I’m trying to apologize here.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. What had he done this time? Not that either of them ever needed much of a reason to argue. “The least you could do is be gracious.”

Hugging the chart like a shield, she pulled a tight smile again. “Pardon me. Must be something else this ‘Doc’ didn’t learn in medical school. Apology accepted.”

“Great.”

“Thanks.”

“Fine!”

A cleared throat sounded from the hall just before Lt. Col. Zach Dawson knocked on the open door with exaggerated precision.

The Squadron Commander. The boss. Tanner wondered if a plague of locusts might be next, because his day couldn’t get much worse.

Lt. Col. Dawson ducked inside. “Hey, you two want to fire it up some more? I don’t think they heard you in Switzerland.”

Kathleen popped to attention. “Good afternoon, Colonel.”

Tanner sat as straight as he could, mentally cursing the hospital gown. “Colonel.”

“Captains.” The Squadron Commander nodded. His Texas twang echoed in the silent room as he ambled to a stop at the foot of Tanner’s bed. “So, Doc, when’re you going to cut my guy here loose?”

“Overnight in the infirmary should have him back on his feet, ready for desk duty within twenty-four hours. Two weeks on muscle relaxants. I’ll reevaluate then, but he’ll likely be on flying status again within four weeks. As long as he keeps up with his chiropractor appointments, there shouldn’t be a repeat.”

The commander shot her a thumbs-up. “That works.”

Tanner studied his boss for signs of impatience over the lost air time and found none. No gripes or pressure to get him into action? Unusual for Dawson. “Thanks for stopping by, sir.”

“Just checking on one of my men. And having O’Connell here saves me arranging a meeting later.” The commander plucked a metal chair from the corner and straddled it, his arms resting along the back. “Doc, how about pull up a seat and let’s chat.”

Eyes wary, Kathleen lowered herself to the recliner by Tanner’s bed. “Yes, sir?”

The commander scrubbed a hand along his close-shorn hair, taking his sweet Texas time. “See, I’ve got this morale problem in my squadron, and that concerns me.”

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 under-dressed.

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.

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 if 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.