Apparently, heavy discussions had been canceled, and she exhaled her relief. Tanner's good mood was infectious. She couldn't stop her answering smile. "Those superstitions again. I called you nice. I didn't submit your name for sainthood."
His low chuckle rumbled along the breeze. "There's the O'Connell I know and admire." His laughter faded. He swept aside a strand of hair from her jaw. "You know, Kathleen, just because flyers are alike in some ways, doesn't mean they're all scumbags like your ex."
The easy camaraderie faded with his laughter, his words. His touch.
She never should have told him about Andrew. With what could be weeks left to spend together, she needed to keep her guard up.
Intellectually she understood what Tanner said about flyers being different, but maybe she harbored a few superstitions after all. Because seasoned soldier that she was, she still couldn't find the courage to test her luck on that one.
Chapter 6
Tanner watched Kathleen's pinky tap the turn signal as they neared the Palmdale Testing Facility. He'd watched her a thousand times before, wanted her, admired her, been mad as hell at her. But he'd never been so confused.
She'd been married. It shouldn't surprise him. Of course she would have had a life during the nine years after she'd graduated and before she'd been stationed in Charleston.
Kathleen had been married. No big deal.
Yet, it changed something—something he couldn't quite target. He'd carried an image of her for years, had grown comfortable with that, and now it had changed.
He'd always seen her as a solitary woman. She dated, but quietly and nothing serious. Apparently, she'd been serious once. Tanner couldn't help but wonder about the man who'd gotten through to Kathleen O'Connell.
A fighter pilot Tanner swallowed a curse. Couldn't she have at least chosen a crew dog?
Rivalry between the different airframes was common. Bomber, fighter, cargo aviators—they all collected reasons why the others were bottom feeders.
Camaraderie within the unit was important. He'd thought Kathleen was one of them, a flight surgeon for the cargo guys. Maybe that was what had his shorts in a knot, her momentary defection to the other side. Yeah, that was what had him frowning.
Not the thought of some other guy dragging down the zipper on Kathleen's flight suit.
Tanner bit back another curse. They'd definitely spent too much time alone together. He needed distance. Soon.
The investigation was too important. To some it might seem like a simple case of an airlift drop gone bad. No fatalities. But it was more than that to him. A certain amount of Air Force honor rode on this. He'd heard the whispers of crew cover-ups. Let the press get ahold of that and morale would self-destruct.
Looming ahead was the factory, a sprawling lone structure at the end of a dirt road. Cars filled the parking lot. The main building towered, a warehouse with gleaming white siding and metal framing. Brick add-ons fingered off to the sides, three stories tall with office windows along the top floor. The warehouse, located twenty miles from the base, ran tests on minor parts subcontracted out by major manufacturers.
The best thing he could do for Lance, for all the others, was keep his head on straight and find out what the hell went wrong, so it wouldn't happen again. It wasn't the same as flying combat, but at least he would be doing something. If the warehouse held those answers, he would find them.
Gravel crunched under the tires as Kathleen pulled precisely into a spot marked Visitor. One slim leg at a time, she stepped from the car.
Time to implement boundaries. Tanner joined her outside. "I ran into Crusty at the coffee machine earlier, back at the squadron."
"Oh?" Wind howled across the desert, tearing the door from her hands and slamming it closed. "What did he have to say?"
"Nothing much, not in the middle of squadron. We're going to meet later for a beer over at the Wing and a Prayer Bar and Grill."
"Good thinking." She tucked the keys in the leg pocket of her flight suit before following Tanner up the walkway. "Should I bring my tape recorder or just a notepad?"
And spend an entire evening together? Not a chance. "You're kidding, right?"
"About what?"
He tugged open the heavy steel door. "It's better if I meet him alone. You know, Doc. Crew dog to crew dog."
Her eyes narrowed. "Right. This doc definitely understands."
She shot through the entrance without another word, her determined stride kicking up a miniature sandstorm. What had he done now? He was only trying to plow through the investigation as fast as possible.
And avoid spending more time with her.