Those little packets told him she'd planned ahead, no impulsive act, rather a fully thought-out decision. She'd suggested the hangar with just this in mind.
Kathleen O'Connell wanted to have sex with him. In an airplane. Even dreams didn't play out this well. There had to be a catch. But bump on his nose be damned, he would worry about impulsive mistakes and catches later.
Tanner hooked his hands behind his head and said, "Logistically speaking, it would be more comfortable for both of us if you came over here and jumped me, instead." Her eyes widened, and she went so still he wondered if he'd heard her wrong. Disappointment grounded him faster than antiaircraft fire. A gut-clenching realization followed that having her shouldn't be this important to him. But it was.
Then she smiled. "Sounds like a plan to me."
Shooting out of her seat, she reached to cup his face in her hands. Her mouth met his as she fell into his lap, her legs draped to one side.
This was better than having the best Christmas present of his entire childhood handed to him. This was Kathleen, warm, willing and definitely eager, judging by the way she insinuated herself over his thighs. Tanner wasn't sure he could survive much more of Kathleen's determined assault on his senses.>Nothing else left to do, he faced her again. "Gonna hit me with that fence spike?"
"How did you know?" She slipped a hand into her shoulder bag. "Now close 'em and take it like a man."
God, her smart mouth plucked at him as much as those eyes. He shut his before they soaked up any more images of Kathleen.
"Hold out your hand."
Mirroring his presentation from the night before, she inched closer, closer still until the minty fragrance of her shampoo encircled him. The flutter of her shirt across his wrist almost sent him over the edge. Even that whisper of cottony fabric held her warmth, a warmth he'd spent a whole night holding against him. His arms itched to close around her now.
"Ready?"
"Yeah." He pushed the word through his tight throat.
A jingling sounded just before his hand closed around…
Keys.
He opened his eyes and stared at the keys peeking from his fist.
"I took care of getting us another car. But I thought you might like to drive for awhile."
Guilt pinched him. Hard. He knew how difficult it had to be for her to pass over the reins, but she'd done it in the interest of peace. She'd made a real effort toward compromise, and he'd been plotting how to maneuver her so the investigation went his way.
Except, he couldn't escape the niggling fear that something would happen to her. He could almost hear her earlier accusations in his brain.
Stuffing down rogue twinges of guilt, he said, "Thanks."
"No problem." Her smile reached her eyes, reached to him.
Neither of them spoke. The switchboard rang at least twice. A parade commentator droned from the television. The coffeepot hissed. And Tanner simply stared, took in every curve of her face, the faint sprinkling of freckles across her nose while she stared back.
Did her redhead complexion spread freckles in other places? He burned to stroke aside the neckline of her shirt and find out.
Pushing away from the cart and heading straight back to his room seemed the smartest move. "See you in the morning then."
One step later she stopped him with a hand on his upper arm. "Why don't we start now?"
Her hand scalded through cotton. With a will of its own, his biceps flexed beneath her touch. "Now?"
"Sure. We could go over to the hangar and check out the plane again."
An odd request since there wouldn't be any other personnel to meet with, but he wasn't risking another battle. He would find Crusty later. "Let's get to it then."
"I thought you might jump all over that idea." With a decided spring to her step, she shoved through the lobby door.
He felt like scum.
Following her to the car, he tried to dodge the guilt dogging him. She could take her protector-syndrome psycho-babble and stuff it. So what if he watched out for folks, helped when he could? Big deal. That didn't mean he was a control freak who didn't know how to be a team player.