Explosive Alliance (Wingmen Warriors 9)

Her eyes went wider, damn near filling her face. "I'd rather you felt sorry for me."

Now didn't that smack him right down?

But he wasn't giving up. He steered along the narrowing road, her two-story white house breaking the monotony of flat road and fields. A speck appeared beyond and above. A small plane, a Cessna Skyhawk, also known as a Cessna 172. Four-person seating capacity, all-metal single-piston engine. High-wing monoplane—one long wing over the top of the plane.

His fingers clutched the steering wheel, and he could all but feel the plane's yoke in his grip. His hands and feet yearned to pilot that craft to the ground and adjust the pilot's approach. God, he loved to fly.

Paige's sigh gusted through the track cab. "There's my brother and my house."

Conversation and day over. Yeah, he heard her.

She was that wary of being alone together? In a good or bad way? Before he could follow the thought through to a possibly sensual conclusion, his attention snagged on the tiny craft descending, too fast. The Cessna's nose flared up, too high too soon. Who the hell was flying the plane? A five-year-old? Obviously some newbie looking to log hours for free. "That's your temporary pilot?"

"Yes." She crossed her arms defensively.

The nose gear hammered the landing strip. No damn surprise. His teeth ached in sympathy for the passenger. The plane bounced back up off the ground before nailing the asphalt twice more. Thank God the plane held together. This time. His determination to see more of Paige, to reassure himself, to find answers jelled into a simple answer that actually promised to be fun.

Purpose set, he threw the track into Park and his determination into overdrive. "You climb in the plane with him and you'll make your daughter an orphan before long."

"He has his license—"

"For a Moped maybe."

Hooking his arm over the steering wheel with a relaxed air, at odds with the anticipation knotting his gut, he shot a smile her way that had won over far tougher cookies than Paige Haugen. And he did not need to think about just how soft this tough cookie was, or he could forget about appearing casual. "I'm stuck here for at least two weeks baby-sitting the busted C-17 while they wait for replacement parts, then for Mako to complete the repairs. That will leave me with more than enough time."

Her hitched breath pushed her full br**sts tighter against the pretty yellow fabric.

"Enough time for what?"

"Time for me to be your temporary pilot."

Chapter 4

"Whoa. Hold on just one minute. We already have a pilot, but thanks for the generous offer." Paige gripped the truck door in search of some control and steadiness. Bo Rokowsky couldn't actually be proposing he spend two weeks flying her around North Dakota?

"Calling that guy—" Bo stabbed a finger toward the blur of the plane fishtailing down the landing strip "—a pilot constitutes aviation blasphemy."

"Well, he's licensed." She paused, picking at the frayed knee of her jeans. She glanced back up at the fuzzy image of the plane, the whole yard hazy, thanks to her broken glasses, the world narrowing in focus to just her and this man. "And he's, uh, reasonably priced.">She stared at her last pair of glasses. It would cost her a hundred bucks she couldn't afford to get new ones. "No spare set, here or at home."

He looked from her to the useless lenses and back to her again. "How blind are you without them?"

"As a bat." Even though she could see him close up, the rest of the flight-line activity faded to fuzzy until his face was all she could see. "I'll call my brother to come get us after he lands from his rounds—"

"I'll drive you," he interrupted. "Your brother can give me a ride back to base at his convenience."

An hour together in the truck? She could barely stem her starved hormones on a crowded flight line. An hour alone with him and she would be toast. "I thought you only had the afternoon off."

"I can wrangle more time. The loadmaster and I are good friends. He'll trade shifts for me to give tours of the plane tomorrow."

"Please, don't go to any more trouble." An unwelcome excitement stirred. She would just have to pray her daughter stayed awake in the truck. Fat chance. "I'm sure I'll find someone around here I know."

"Do you really want to drag malaria-girl all around the flight line until you find a ride?"

Did he have to be funny as well as drop-dead hot?

But he had a point. She needed to get Kirstie home. Being a parent meant putting her child's needs first. And she couldn't shake the shivery fear of seeing her daughter talking with that stranger.

Truth be told, standing next to Bo Rokowsky with his overconfident smile wanned those chills of fear right off her for a blessed moment. She would be independent again in an hour. For now, Kirstie needed Bo Rokowsky.