Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors 2)

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."