Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors 2)

"Open."

She hesitated, reluctant to end this moment of anticipation or have it ruined by some crew dog prank.

"Come on, O'Connell. No time for a catnap now. Open."

A bracing breath later she opened her eyes and stared straight into his. Breathing became momentarily optional as he stared back at her, so big, blond and ruggedly handsome, the bump on his nose reassuring in its familiarity. Frighteningly so.

He nodded to the floor. "Well?"

She tore her gaze from his, a task more difficult than a third-year med-school exam. A creosote bush waited at her feet. A decorated bush. From the prickly branches, makeshift ornaments dangled. Flattened tin cans, his car keys, a German mark, his dog tags, a fishing bobber some optimist must have carted along into the desert.

It beat her mother's best designer-decorated Douglas fir, hands down.

Tanner swept an open palm toward the scraggly little bush, his other hand behind his back. "Merry Christmas, Kathleen. Your very own survivalist spruce."

Kathleen slipped from the pew to kneel beside her "tree." "It's wonderful. Where did you find all of this?"

"Around the church. In the courtyard." He dropped to one knee beside her. "There's an abandoned miner's shaft a few yards out back full of garbage, some blankets we're better off not using, even old ropes, cables, pulleys."

"You've been busy." She touched each ornament with reverence, tapped the dog tags until they swayed. "Thank you. This is really sweet."

"Sweet?" He grimaced. "Lady, I'll have you know I'm a honed combat veteran. I am not sweet."

"I won't tell."

"Thanks." He winked.

Kathleen winked back. "No problem."

"Close your eyes again."

She plopped on her bottom. "Now comes the prank?"

"You guessed it. Now close 'em again."

She did, and all her other senses promptly kicked into high gear. Tanner's soap mingled with the musky smoke swirling around the old church.

He was watching her. She could feel it, the weight of his stare, the caress of his eyes along her mouth. Her lips tingled, full and needy. She swallowed, started to flick her tongue across her top lip before rethinking.

Why was he so quiet? If he was going to kiss her, he needed to get to it before she screamed.

"Kathleen?" he called from a step farther away than she would have expected.

She caught herself before she toppled forward. "What?"

"Hold out your hands."

His voice soothed over her like the low rumble of thunder in a spring shower. One of nature's sounds that prompted thoughts of staying tucked under covers and indulging in a sensual cat stretch.

His knees popped as he knelt. He canted closer. Not that she could hear him so much as sense him, feel his heat warm her. He placed something wooden in her hands. Something flat, long.., and full of splinters?

"Open."

She looked down at … a fence picket. "Oh."

He stared at her with eyes so intensely blue they matched his well-washed denim. This obviously meant something to him. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but what was she supposed to say?

Kathleen struggled to figure out his reasoning for giving her what basically looked like a vampire stake. Something to feed the fire and keep her warm? A club for his head next time he made her angry?