Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors 2)

Her breath hitched, a glacial gasp of air freezing a path to her lungs. At the oddest times his incredible size caught her unaware. She knew his vitals. Six feet five inches. Honed 238 pounds. Good cholesterol and blood pressure as of his last physical recorded in his chart stowed inside the ambulance.

Chart stats didn't come close to capturing the magnetism of the man.

He hadn't lost one bit of his brawny charm that had so enchanted fans during his four years on the Air Force Academy football team. Then when he'd chosen service to country over a seven-figure NFL income with the Broncos— Even she had to admire him for that.

Not that it would garner him special treatment from her.

Kathleen inhaled a deeper breath of chilly air to banish a warm hum in her stomach that she wanted to attribute to sleep deprivation and too much coffee.

Tanner shuffled over to her, pain etched in the corners of his eyes, skin pulling tight around his bumpy nose. "Hey, Doc, what are you doing out so late?"

Sympathy pinched her right on her Hippocratic Oath. Poor guy had to be in agony. Of course, experience told her he wouldn't admit it.

She pushed away from the ambulance and pulled herself upright, still no more than eye level with his chest. Strands of hair blew across her face, making Kathleen wish she'd had the time for her more professional braid. She tipped her face up and met Tanner's sapphire eyes dead-on. "I'm taking care of flyers who won't take care of themselves."

He turned to look back at the plane, the twist stopping midway when he grimaced. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, instead. "Is somebody hurt in there and I missed it?"

Yeah, she had a tough one on her hands tonight. "Your wit has me in stitches."

"I can tell."

"Trust me, hotshot, I'm laughing. Just not with you."

Getting him into the ambulance wouldn't be an easy sell. The man was as stubborn as he'd been at the Academy his freshman year, making her junior year as his training officer a challenge from start to finish. Twelve years hadn't changed them, only their jobs.

He began to turn. "Well, then, time for me to go—"

"Legal point of reference, my good Captain. Your body belongs to the United States Air Force. If you mistreat it, say you get sunburned—" a frigid gust of wind mocked her example, whipping her hair across her face "—if you can't perform your duties because of that recklessness, that's abuse of government property and grounds for a court martial."

"Geez, Doc. Do you keep the Uniform Code of Military Justice in your bathroom?"

"I happen to have a UCMJ travel edition right here." She patted her zippered thigh pocket over her wallet and comb. "They issued them to all the good officers. Didn't you get yours?"

"I was probably stuck waiting in sick call that day." He raised his hand with a barely disguised wince and flicked aside her strand of hair.

At his touch against her cheek, his eyes widened, then narrowed, colliding with hers. Her face warmed with the curse of a redhead's blush, her skin firing even hotter on the exact spot his gloved fingers lingered. They'd never touched in any way except professionally since that one moment at the Academy…

His arm dropped to his side, and she exhaled a proverbial storm cloud into the cold air.

Kathleen backed up but not off. "Okay, hotshot, let's cut the chitchat. I'm cold and I'm tired. I've got rounds at six and sick call at seven. If I'm lucky, I'll manage three hours of sleep tonight. Let's get you into the ambulance and evaluated."

Tanner shifted right then left as if trying to look around the snow-dusted tarmac without turning. "Uh, where's Cutter?"

Kathleen bristled even though she wasn't in the least surprised. Tanner Bennett had been dodging appointments with her since she'd been stationed in Charleston a year ago. She wanted to attribute it to narrow-mindedness on his part about being treated by a female doctor, but she couldn't. He never objected to seeing the other female flight surgeon when Cutter wasn't available.

Only her. "Cutter's not on call. You'll have to make do with me. Now step up, and let's take a look at that back."

Ready to end the whole awkward incident, she reached to brace a hand between his shoulder blades. His muscles contracted beneath her fingers into a sheet of pure metal beneath leather.

He lurched away, flinched, then stared at her hand as if it were a torture device rather than an instrument for healing. Stepping aside, she gestured forward for him to precede her into the ambulance.

Tanner looked from her to the ambulance and back again. His eyes glittered like blue ice chips. "Not a chance."

"Pardon me?"

He skated a glance toward the crew bus where Lancelot and Tag waited, then ducked his head toward her. "No way." Tanner's voice filled the space between them with a low rumble. "I'm not climbing up there in front of everyone."