Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors 2)

How long did it take to unbraid hair, for crying out loud? His torturously slow progress, those hands whispering against her scalp, sent shivers prickling down her spine.

The craziness had to be a by-product of abstinence. She didn't miss her ex-husband, but she certainly missed regular sex. That had to be the reason her body responded to a man she respected but wasn't quite sure she even liked.

Her mind taunted her with how much she'd enjoyed his impromptu shopping spree through the gift shop. And she couldn't recall ever being so turned on by a guy simply playing with her hair.

His fingers massaged her scalp as he swirled her hair forward. She barely managed to bite back a moan. His pupils widened in response.

Enough.

Forget camaraderie. This had to stop. Kathleen stepped back.

"Thanks. I can finish." She combed her shaking hands through her hair, the strands suddenly unbearably sensual caressing her neck. "Okay now?"

"Perfect."

His tone, low and intimate, sent a fresh wash of shivers all the way to her toes. Tanner's chest rose and fell, faster, each speedier respiration telling Kathleen more than she could handle about how much she affected him, as well.

She wanted her uniform back, with all the protection and distance its familiarity offered.

The loudspeaker crackled, announcing flights, theirs ending the list. Christmas carols replaced the droning voice. Tanner's head cocked up to the sound, his face hardening with an intensity that nudged concern past her own needs.

She couldn't stop herself from asking, "You okay?"

He looked down as if he'd forgotten her. Not very complimentary since her every tingling nerve still remembered his touch.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Tanner palmed the small of her back. "Come on, Mata Hari. Let's make tracks."

She shielded her senses against the heat of his hand. Why turn sappy just because they'd actually laughed together and he'd bought her a few tourist tokens? It wasn't like they had anything between them except a common alma mater, years of bickering…

And one unforgettable kiss.

A kiss she prayed Tanner had forgotten. If not, they had larger problems than unraveling the crash of an aircraft worth $125 million.

Chapter 4

Tanner shifted, turned, shifted again, but still couldn't manage to wedge himself comfortably in the microscopic airline seat. He would have better luck stuffing the drink cart through the tiny window beside Kathleen.

Flipping another page in his paperback, he tried to ignore his grumbling stomach. In the past five hours, he'd only eaten a cardboard croissant sandwich, five tiny bags of pretzels and two of Kathleen's Toblerone bars. He stared across the aisle with envy at the kid snoozing the flight away.

Tanner's hand itched to grip the stick of his C-17, to fly, instead of being chauffeured around in a civilian air taxi. He second-guessed every whine and drone of the humming engines.

Being a passenger stunk for him on a good day. This wasn't a good day. His back hurt, his stomach was snacking on itself. And Kathleen looked so hot he couldn't even enjoy the latest techno-thriller novel.

Tanner gave up trying to read or get comfortable and studied Kathleen, instead. She fitted in that confined space, no problem, working her way through a stack of files on the seat between them. He sometimes forgot how small she was, probably not more than five foot four.

Dwindling light filtered through the oval window, glinting off the thin wire frames of her reading glasses. They gave her a schoolmarmish air that proved curiously sexy, like her standard tight braid.

Her hair.

Tanner slammed his book shut and rubbed his palms together as if that might dispel the lingering sensation of her hair sliding between his fingers. The lingering scent of her minty shampoo on his hands. Caving to the temptation to untangle her braid had been insane. But she'd looked so cute in her tourist getup. So unusually approachable.

Like now.

The window light sparked off her free-flowing hair. Threads of gold shimmered through the auburn. Kathleen retrieved another file from the stack, the nutcracker necklace swaying between her breasts. Settling back, she compared the columns of figures on one page with another.

She'd always been the studious type, a real curve buster who set a high bar for others to match, and heaven knew he enjoyed competition. Other than those glasses and the longer hair, she didn't look much different from the Academy cadet who'd hunched over textbooks in the library.

The woman he'd kissed until they both couldn't breathe.