It also became her little secret she carried beneath her uniform. She would play by their flyers' club rules, compete wherever they set the bar, but she would do it as a woman.
She might not have a name like The Mighty Quinn, Bronco or even Crusty. But she knew who she was, and Tanner Bennett could take a flying leap off his own load ramp if he thought he could eclipse her.
Let him have his guy-talk meeting with Crusty. She'd scheduled her own investigative appointment with the government inspector, Randall Fitzgerald. Their little chat by the soda machine had netted more information than the entire tour through the factory.
Kathleen shrugged into her cream satin shirt, buttoning slowly. No way would she let Tanner's towering presence overshadow her tonight.
From the closet she unclipped and pulled free her favorite pants. Brown leather. One leg at a time she eased them on, savoring the sensation of the supple leather sliding over, then clinging to her. No need to tuck in her shirt as it stopped an inch below her waistband. She could enjoy the night breeze slithering the satin across her bare skin.
Kathleen slipped on low leather pumps and her standard pearl stud earrings. Nothing flashy like her sisters. No pouring on the charm like Tanner. Just herself, and damned if she planned to stand in the wings.
One spritz of perfume in her open neckline and she finger combed her damp hair, ready to leave. Let the desert night air dry it on her way to meet the inspector.
At the Wing and a Prayer Bar and Grill.
Tanner shoved open the door to the Wing and a Prayer, shooting a thumbs-up thanks over his shoulder to the friend who'd given him a ride. The aviator hangout was parked at the intersection of the middle of nowhere and the ends of the earth. The clapboard building sported the tail of a plane sticking out of the roof.
Cactus Christmas lights glowed around the door frame, offering a festivity he chose to ignore. Laughter and clanking bottles foretold the crowd he would find inside the always-packed bar.
He wouldn't wonder what Kathleen had decided to do with her evening. This was about getting his head on right again, while snagging time with Crusty to ferret out the straight scoop about what had happened on that flight.
Military and civilian locals alike gravitated to the bar decorated with Air Force test memorabilia dating back to the 1940s. Pieces of crashed aircraft—shell casings, metal skin off planes, busted flight instruments, propellers—covered the walls in the same way fishermen mount their prize bass. Straight ahead, a widescreen television blared nonstop aviation movies for those who opted for a table rather than the bar off to the left.
He wove around the dark wooden chairs in search of Crusty. Tanner sidestepped table after table with crews and…
Couples.
Why hadn't he ever noticed how many couples congregated in this bar during his other TDY visits to Edwards? He'd always thought of it as more of a crew hangout. Apparently not.
Maybe he only took note now since he was between relationships himself. He liked having a steady woman in his life, regardless of what Kathleen might think. Okay, so his relationships usually self-destructed after about six months, but that didn't mean he hadn't tried.
Damn it, he wasn't commitment shy.
He could almost hear her snort of disdain over the clank of beer bottles.
"Bronco!" a male voice shouted from the back corner.
Tanner pivoted and found Daniel "Crusty" Baker waving from two tables over. Wiry and an inch shy of six feet, Crusty looked as if he'd just rolled out of the sack. A rumpled flight suit, crooked patches and a severe case of bed-head marked the guy as slack.
Appearances were deceiving. Reputation labeled him a sharp pilot with solid air sense that had gained him a chest full of medals for his flights over Afghanistan.
Tanner thumped his old classmate on the back. "Hey, bud! How's it going?"
"Bennett, my man." Crusty finished stuffing French fries in his mouth, then swiped his salty fingers down his flight suit before shaking hands. "I see you're still determined to pass up the big bucks and ball-field glory with the Broncos for a pair of silver wings."
"What can I say? The job comes with a leather jacket and cool toys."
"That it does."
Tanner waved for the Santa-clad bartender and ordered two beers. During their Academy days, Crusty had worked in the football video lab, taping games for later analysis. Tanner had spent more than a few hours with his classmate while Crusty spun tapes, as well as fantasies about their training officer, Cadet O'Connell.
Geez, couldn't a guy even go out for a beer without that woman creeping into his thoughts?
Crusty gripped his long-neck bottle like a throttle. "So you're here to hang me out to dry."
Tanner leaned back in his chair. "Should I?"
"What do the after-action reports tell you?"