Did she remember? The thought that she might have forgotten jolted a dangerous frustration through him.
Suddenly he had to know. He had to have an acknowledgment of that moment, even if they never intended to repeat it. Maybe then they could defuse the attraction lurking between them.
"Do you ever think about Academy days?" The question fell from his mouth, and he didn't have the slightest desire to recall it.>Damn! Now he had her doing it.
Protectiveness was all well and good, but this guy was becoming downright smothering. Or was that because his large body closed off the rest of the world from view until she only saw miles of chest and eyes so blue they could hypnotize?
Snap out of it! she chastised herself. "Just because I don't obsess doesn't mean I'm clueless about airport security overseas. It's not like I'm wearing my uniform."
He snapped. "You might as well be."
She snapped back. "What's wrong with my clothes?"
"Those blue pants and shirt look almost identical to a uniform. Your hair's even tucked up according to military regs."
"Since when did you join the fashion police?"
"Cute, O'Connell. Real cute—" He hauled in a breath and held his hands up into a T. "Time out. Let's not draw attention to ourselves by fighting."
Of course he was right, but his comment about her clothes still stung. What had Lt. Col. Dawson been thinking with his crazy plan?
Diplomacy. Diplomacy. Dimple.
Dimple?
Tanner stared down at her with a half smile dimpling one cheek. "Come on."
"Huh?"
Tanner's smile spread until the second dimple tucked into his other cheek. "We're going to get you a disguise." Kathleen followed, not that she had a choice since he wouldn't let go of her hand. His playful grin had further rocked her balance. Sure Tanner joked with everyone else around the squadron, but he saved his irritation for her.
Not now. He turned that boyish charm on her, full power, as he dragged her toward the crowded gift shop. "Let's start with the military bag. It's got to go."
"But I can't—"
"Trust me. Hmmm." He flicked through a rack of dangling tourist tote bags with expert shopping hands. No visual skimming the surface of the display for this man. "You need a big one. Got a color preference?"
Kathleen eyed the door, then resigned herself to the inevitable. "Why ask me? I'm a fashion fugitive, remember? Color coding is beyond me."
"No preference." He unhooked a fuchsia bag, logo blaring—I Did Germany Bavarian Style. His eyes glinted with mischief. "Since you don't care, how about this one? Ah, so pink isn't your color after all?"
A reluctant smile played with her lips. Her sisters had dragged her out like this before, but shopping hadn't seemed half as entertaining with them. "Not my first choice, no."
Although it had definite possibilities as a Christmas gift for her mom.
Her poor mother never had quite understood her G.I. Jane daughter. Holiday dinner talk inevitably turned to gift offers for a makeover or color coding—or invitations to join the family medical practice. Kathleen had learned to smile, nod and make her own choices once she walked out the door. She was just too different, a real changeling in their midst.
"How about this, then?" Tanner passed her a beige canvas tote with a big heart declaring I Love Germany. "Better, mein Wienerschnitzel?"
My veal cutlet? Kathleen groaned, then laughed as she swiped the bag from his hand.
He tugged the tag off and placed it on the counter by the cash register. A twirling jewelry stand towered beside her. Tanner reached past, bypassing the gold. He untangled a thong cord with a nutcracker charm hanging and draped it around Kathleen's neck. Rocking back on his heels, he spread his hands.
"Oh, yeah, that does it." He quirked a brow, grabbing a pair of matching earrings and dancing them in front of her face. "Want these, too? My treat."
"Maybe next visit."
Snagging a feathered cap, he plopped it on her head. "Or how about a hat. No?"