"Even if I tell you walking out of here could delay your recovery?"
Man, she fought dirty. Lose air time or lose face. Hell or Hades. Same thing.
Almost.
He could grit his way through recovery. Regaining face…
Tanner opened his eyes, wasn't sure when he'd closed them, and allowed himself to gaze straight up into her blue eyes, eyes as clear as an ocean sky. "I can't roll out of here on a stretcher, Doc. I have to fly with these guys again. Trust in the air is everything, could make the difference in a split decision that costs somebody's life." Frustration snapped his restraint. "O'Connell, come on…"
"Okay."
Shock immobilized him as much as his back. "What?"
"If we can haul you out of this bed, and if you can put one foot in front of the other, I'll allow you to walk out of here under your own power. No doubt that flyer ego can manage more miracles than modern medicine."
He searched for sarcasm in her words, in her eyes.
Better not look at her eyes.
Back to her voice. Not a note of sarcasm, just resigned logic.
"Thank you." Gratitude mixed with respect. He understood how difficult backing down could be.
Then he realized he owed her, an uncomfortable thought at best. He would have shrugged it off if he could lift his shoulders. He joked instead, a safe barrier against free-falling into her eyes. "Do you think we could act like I've got some shrapnel in my butt? It would make for better stories around the Officer's Club."
Her laugh, low, throaty and her one unreserved trait, filled his senses. Like a drag of one hundred percent oxygen from his face mask, it invigorated him, left him slightly dizzy.
She chuckled again, dipping her head until he could see every tuck of her braid. Each perfectly spaced weave called to his fingers. He wanted to untwine that restrained fire until it poured over his hands.
Silken fire. He wanted it with a pulsing force that threatened stirrings within him farther south.
And he didn't have anything more than a thin bedspread between his n**ed body and total exposure.
Kathleen gazed down at the 238 pounds of bare-chested man under the rose-colored spread and wondered if she would ever understand Tanner Bennett. Or her own reaction to him.
It went against every principle ingrained in her to let him walk out under his own compromised power. She told herself it was part of treating the ego as well as the man. Keeping the big picture in mind. A really big picture.
But she knew that wasn't her real reason.
She kept remembering the Academy doolie. She'd given him hell as his training officer. No sports jock would warrant special treatment from her, just as she accepted no special treatment for being a woman.
He'd never caved.
Even if she didn't agree with his tactics, she had to admire his warrior spirit. To crush that would be to the detriment of the Air Force.
So her decision was for the Air Force. Right? Not because he looked up at her with those sapphire eyes in which mingled determination and boyish charm.
She extended her hand. "Maybe you can try sitting now."
"Sure." He waved away her hand and inched up on his elbows, paling to match the bleached sheets.
"If you can."
"Of course I can."
More spirit than sense.
"Come on, Bennett. You need help getting up. There's nothing wrong with admitting it's too hard. Here, let me give you a hand." She reached for his arm.