Darcy loosened her hold on the photos before she crimped the edges. The fella looked so darn proud, she didn't dare pick at him for stating the obvious. "Cool. Maybe you can sign her up for one of those baby swimming classes."
"Already on the schedule at the base pool."
"I'll be waiting for the pictures." She thumbed through the stack with one hand. No landmark occasion recorded. Just twenty-four near-identical shots of a redheaded mother sitting on a beach towel with a chubby baby.
Nothing much, but somehow it pricked at Darcy, revealing an emptiness she didn't dare call loneliness. Since she never allowed relationships into the workplace and she always worked, her social life sucked. Which meant she would just have to live with that emptiness and get on with her job.
Or maybe not.
Her memory filled with that momentary flash of interest in Max Keagan's eyes. Okay, so he'd backed off once he'd stepped up to brief the crew, but damn it, she hadn't misread the attraction she'd seen.
Hell, barely twenty-four hours after her great resolve for going after what she wanted and already she'd surrendered at the first sign of resistance. She wasn't looking to make her own pack of Kodak memories with the guy, not at the expense of losing focus on her career. She just wanted something to fill that lonely corner of herself. A relationship with a man that went beyond big-brother teasing, if only for the duration of her stay in Guam.
Step it up, soldier. Winners never quit and quitters never win. Time for a jaunt to the cargo hold.
Darcy tucked the pictures into the envelope.
"Crusty, are you sick of that jump seat yet? I need to stretch my legs."
Bronco tapped his headset. "Hey, Crusty, is this thing working right? I could have sworn I heard Wren give up the stick. Voluntarily."
"Yeah, man. I heard the same thing. Too bad we don't have a doc on board to check her temp— Hey wait, Bronco." Crusty gasped in mock surprise. "We do have a doctor on board."
"Imagine that," Bronco answered. "Do you think that's why she needs a little stroll in back?"
"You are a genius, my friend."
"Seems we have some private maneuvers already in action on this mission."
Darcy vowed to sabotage their flight lunches.
Except she knew they only teased people they liked. Great. Lucky for her, apparently she really was their favorite copilot.
"Funny, guys. With lame jokes like that, you should take your show on the road." Darcy flipped the auto pilot switch off. "Bronco, do you have the jet?"
The stick waggled in her hand just before Bronco answered. "Roger, I have the jet."
Crusty groused, "Can't believe she called our jokes lame, Bronco."
"Well there aren't privates in the Air Force. Just airmen."
"Details, details..."
She whipped off her headset and unstrapped from the copilot seat. Double-timing, she descended the narrow stairwell into the cargo hold before the pilots could razz her again. The cavernous belly swelled with the tinny echo of activity and engine drones. A red glow hovered throughout, the low lighting set to calm the dolphins during flight. Temperatures had been lowered, as well, per the good doc's instructions.
Scanning for Max, she rubbed her hands along her arms to ward off the chill but found no sign of him in the dimly lit craft. Her stomach lurched with anticipation as it hadn't done since her early days in flight training.
Two rectangular fiberglass tanks lined the center like train carts. The briefings she'd received provided a mental picture of what filled them. A dolphin lay in each one, cradled in a mesh sling. Around ten or eleven feet long, each dolphin rested partially submerged in water.
By the tank farthest from her, the professor's assistant stood beside the loadmaster. Master Sergeant Jim "Tag" Price passed a walk-around oxygen bottle to the assistant. Darcy wasn't fooled by Tag's smile. The seasoned loadmaster ran a tight ship in back and didn't take well to having his rules ignored.
The dolphins were in safe hands. So where was Max?
Bracing a hand along the cool fiberglass, she strode toward Tag. A burst of air whooshed from the dolphin's blowhole. Startled, Darcy jumped, looked around.
Her gaze traveled up until she found Max on the edge of the tank spraying a mist inside. With smooth agility, he swung a leg over, straddling the wall, muscles flexing as he steadied himself.
Rubber boots covered up to his knee, but his toned thigh stayed in plain sight. God, that leg looked good encased in well-worn denim. If she walked a few steps forward and reached up, just a bit...