And that made her damned mad.
Tanner shouldn't have the power to tweak feelings she hadn't realized could still be pinched by a careless comment. "So now you are a rocket scientist as well as an ace pilot."
He pushed back from the car and lumbered around the hood toward her. "But we've got this … chemistry thing between us."
She didn't bother to deny it. What would be the use? Hadn't she already tried that on the plane?
He stopped in front of her. She kept the open door between them like a shield. Thank goodness for the drizzle cooling her body or she would definitely be overheating by now. "Your point?"
"Most folks who don't get along just play nice and stay clear of each other. That doesn't seem to work for us, and it's because of that chemistry. When it gets to be too much, we snap. The tension's gotta go somewhere. We fight to blow off steam."
Tanner rested his hands on the door beside hers, not touching. How small her hands looked next to his on the canvas of a teal door. One slight move and his hand could eclipse hers in callused heat.
She struggled not to yank her hands away and step back. His head angled right. Mist clung to his hair. Droplets sprinkled his skin just begging for her to taste away. If he leaned two more inches, if she arched up on her toes, their mouths would meet.
Of their own volition, her lips parted. "We fight because we want each other?"
Was that husky voice really hers?
"Yes, ma'am, we do."
The breath from his words kissed her mouth as surely as if he'd placed his lips there. The heat lingered, excited. "And?"
"Now, as I read it, you don't want to do anything about the attraction."
Was there a hint of a question in his voice? Did she want there to be? And if she even insinuated as much, she could easily find out she was mistaken. She'd misjudged her husband's intentions more than once.
What was she thinking? The last thing she needed was to crawl in bed with Tanner Bennett. She forced her voice not to quiver. "Of course I don't want to pursue it."
He winced as if he'd pinched a nerve all over again. "Well, you can't be any clearer than that."
Her fingers itched to cover his. "Tanner—"
"No. It's okay." He ambled back, his arms extended as he held the car door. "I agree, and I don't expect you to feed my ego. We just need to clear this up. I tried to talk about it back on the plane, but, well, subtle's never been my strong suit."
His hand shot up to forestall her automatic retort. She bit back her tank-being-more-subtle comment and waved for him to continue.>Her bedside manner did not suck, damn it.
She winced. All right, maybe she wasn't the soft and cuddly type like her mom and sisters. She'd learned long ago to stick with what she knew and did best, then no one would be disappointed.
Kathleen locked away her conciliatory remarks. For this trip she wasn't Tanner's doctor. She wasn't his Academy bud. And she wasn't the woman who would tend to his aching back. She was nothing more than his workmate.
Her hand skimmed down the nutcracker necklace that weighted like a ten-ton reminder of Tanner's hundred-watt smile.
Tanner crossed his arms over his chest and braced his feet as the shuttle bus plowed around a corner toward the rental car building. The ever-present L.A. smog battled with misting rain to haze out visibility. Drizzle streaked the windows, the overcast sky mirroring his mood.
Kathleen hadn't released her grip on the seat in front of them. There wasn't a chance the bus driver's haphazard speedster techniques would fling her against him. The stubborn set of her jaw and white knuckles told Tanner she wouldn't budge if they hurtled into a three-car pileup.
He'd made her mad, not unusual, except he had no idea what he'd done this time. The comments about their Academy days? Maybe. But she'd handled it, stopping him dead with a chilling stare. He couldn't dodge the notion that he'd hurt her feelings somehow.
That bothered him more than any of their bickering.
The shuttle bus squealed to a shuddering stop in front of the rental car building, puddles sluicing up onto the sidewalk. Tanner followed Kathleen's stiff back and trim, too-enticing h*ps all the way inside.
Wasn't she going to talk to him? They couldn't resolve anything if she wouldn't speak. That woman had the silent treatment down pat.
He would wait her out.
Not that he'd ever been the patient type.