No chance of ever exploring it.
An odd melancholy stirred deep in her stomach. Her eyes met his across the door, held. Remnants of his low laugh still brushed the air, wrapping around her, dispelling a chill she'd had long before she stepped out into the dreary parking lot.
Apparently, he could upset her equilibrium without laying a finger on her.
Her smile faded. "It's a long drive in, and it'll be dark soon. We really should get going."
Tanner nodded, backing away before turning on his heel to store the luggage. He folded his body into the car while she tucked herself behind the steering wheel.
His leg pressed against hers.
Kathleen looked at the floorboards and couldn't find an extra inch for escape. Masculine heat and musk saturated her senses, just like on the plane.
The sooner she left, the sooner they would be through. She reached to release the parking break in the middle.
Her knuckles rubbed a long, very long, very torturous, path over Tanner's thigh. The cotton fabric of his pants rasped along her every heightened nerve.
Kathleen's foot twitched on the brake. "You know, Appendix 0, section C of the Joint Travel Regulations does indicate that if the car doesn't meet requirements we may be authorized a different-size vehicle appropriate to the mission. Given your size and medical history…"
Tanner was already reaching for his door. "Wouldn't want to land me back in the hospital from hours spent in this shoe box."
"Right." Kathleen ripped the keys from the ignition. "The midsize over there would save the Air Force money in the long run."
"See. We're already learning to agree."
"Absolutely."
"I'll get the luggage while you change the paperwork."
"Great." Kathleen threw open her door and sprinted through the rain for the Hertz desk. Even as she ran, she knew a minivan wouldn't offer enough space. She couldn't escape the memory of Tanner's warm laughter sweeping over her like a lover's caress, making her want more.
Not that it could ever matter. She might want him, but she would never need him, not like the women he seemed to prefer. Being vulnerable just wasn't worth the price.
The next morning Tanner slid on sunglasses to dim the piercing desert sun. Beside him, Kathleen sipped her coffee and drove, predictably five miles an hour under the speed limit on a highway where most people sped like demons.
He refused to let that cloud his mood. Face tipped into the gritty breeze whipping through the open window, he decided the wide-open skies offered a good omen for a new day. He and Kathleen had found a safe middle ground, and he intended to keep it.
Along with the help of a great big armrest console between them.
Tanner inhaled the chicory scent of his coffee to override the mint wafting from Kathleen. He drank his Jamaican breakfast blend and resolved to be productive.
Their ride into base the night before had been tease at first, then easier as they'd debated the merits of great historic generals. For once, their combative natures had found a positive outlet in a discussion on Alexander the Great, another good omen as they began their case.
The morning meeting with six other members of their investigation team from different bases had been spent divvying up interview subjects. Since Kathleen's toxicology reports weren't due in from the labs for another couple of days, she and Tanner were partnered for the day.
First on their agenda—check out the subcontractor who'd modified the electromechanical release device on the C-17's load ramp. Another whole day with Kathleen. Lt. Col. Dawson's plan was well underway. Tanner still couldn't decide if the idea was inspired leadership or reckless endangerment of their sanity.
Tanner focused on the landscape outside his window, rather than the too-tempting view just beside him behind the wheel. Rain from the day prior had coaxed color from barren cracks. Flowers now bloomed in a surprise splash of color. Clumps of Joshua trees and creosote brush seemed to stand taller.
The sun glinted off a shallow sheen of water on a dried-up lake bed. Plastic shark fins dotted the expanse, bringing a welcome smile to Tanner's face at the tradition he'd often viewed during countless TDY's to the base. Squadrons at Edwards AFB kept those fins ready to use after every rain.
Military folks worked hard, but they also played hard as a safeguard against the stress. Joking offered a pressure valve for the grim realities of their world, combat missions and even the ever-present risk of a crash on any flight.
Like the one they were investigating.
It could have been worse. Twisted metal. A burned-out hull. Nothing left to identify the crew but the extra set of dog tags inside boots.
The cause couldn't remain a mystery, otherwise, it could happen again. To him. To his friends.