Explosive Alliance (Wingmen Warriors #9)

Explosive Alliance (Wingmen Warriors #9) Page 13

"I'm not a doctor, remember?"

"Whatever. Although I'm not sure how much of a compliment you've given me if you're comparing me to that hack."

"Seth's a great pilot, too, but even he's not as smooth as you are—and if you tell him I said that, I'll have to deny it."

"No problem." He knelt to set a chock in front of the nose gear. "And thanks."

"No problem," she repeated.

She studied him through narrowed eyes as if she couldn't see him clearly, when he knew full well her new glasses should be working fine.

Leave. Leave. Leave, he nudged himself. Drop your sorry, horny ass into the rental car and stay away from this woman.

Wasn't Seth due back sometime soon? How long did it take to drive to McDonald's, feed a kid and drive back?

Hours, out here.

He definitely needed to finish up and hit the road. He'd made Paige smile more than once.

Her job obviously brought her happiness. The way she'd calmed the horse had been a mesmerizing sight. After securing the plane at Anderson's place, he'd jogged the mile over to the barn and found her...gentle voice soothing the spooked horse while she listened to the heart, lungs, stomach for punctured organs, like an EMS tech for animals.

All the while handling an animal that could crush her with one stray kick.

This confident woman could take care of herself. No doubt she had baggage to deal with from her husband, but who wouldn't? And she had more help handling it than many single mothers, thanks to her brother and cousin. So what was up with the restlessness chewing his hide?

She followed him around the nose of the plane, gripped the wing overhead and leaned, stretching her T-shirt taut across generous breasts. "Have you always wanted to be in the Air Force?"

In need of an outlet, he kicked a chock secure under a rear wheel with extra force. "I didn't know what I wanted to do growing up, other than I wanted to fly planes and buy myself some kick-ass toys."

"You mentioned growing up in an orphanage."

"From the time I was five. Yeah."

"The same age Kirstie was when she lost her father." She trailed him to the other side.

"That must have been difficult for—"

"Yeah. I guess so." He didn't want to discuss those days. He'd rather talk about the scars on his hands than the morning he'd walked into his mother's room to ask for a bowl of Frosted Flakes and found her— "After I got to St. Elizabeth's, I had it good, safe, was well fed and got lots of hugs from the nuns."

Last wheel secured. He was done. Time to leave. But his feet wouldn't move.

He leaned against the side of the Cessna and stared into pretty brown eyes that invited him to share. "But when you're seven and ten, even twelve, you don't recognize how important those things are. You want dumb-ass things like a bike no one else has ridden.

A batting helmet with your name stenciled on it. To make sure I could have everything on my list—and the list was long—I figured I had to go to college."

"Which is why you took an ROTC scholarship." She nudged her glasses straight with one pointer finger.

"There were other offers on the table, but the ROTC deal came with money, a chance to fly and the most kick-butt toys I'd ever imagined."

"How many years do you owe the Air Force for the scholarship?"

"I'm coming up on the end of my commitment to the Air Force."

"Are you staying in?"

"I don't know yet."

That stunned her quiet for a full five seconds of silence filled only with dogs barking in their kennels. "What would you do if you left the Air Force?"

"It's tough to imagine being grounded. I could fly for the airlines, or any number of other things like doctors without borders, FedEx even."

His mind winged to the looming deadline for deciding whether to stay in the military and take off the uniform for good. He'd met his commitment, given something back to society like the nuns had taught him. He'd enjoyed flying Paige around today, but he wasn't sure how he would feel about going a lifetime without any more high-stakes missions. Except, he also couldn't face seeing another military brother like Tag take a boot in the ribs for him.

He slammed the aft cargo door and reminded himself he didn't have to decide jack right now.

"What did you study in college? Have you considered a job in that field and just enjoy your flying as a hobby? I hear most pilots study engineering, maybe? Or military history."

"Education."

"Excuse me?"

"Hey, I even know a bomber guy who majored in jewelry technology. Something wrong with that?"

"No! Of course not."

"Because I would find it very un-PC if you don't get that shocked gawk off your face."

"Consider it erased." Her shock shifted into a grin that crinkled her nose.

Yeah, making this woman smile gave him one helluva charge. All that talk of sexual peaks was backfiring on him with a vengeance. "Do you ever think about going back to finish up veterinarian school like you originally planned?"

Longing chased through her eyes, then faded. "I have a daughter to raise."

"You could do both."

"If I won the lottery along with eight more hours in the day."

"Valid point. And speaking of more hours in the day, I should probably let you put your feet up or something." He shoved away from the Cessna. "Time for me to hit the road, anyway. I'll walk you up to the house before I go."

Confusion flickered in her eyes behind the new glasses. Had she expected him to hit on her once they landed in spite of his insistence that friends could just flirt? He searched deeper in her eyes and definitely saw confusion—and undeniable wariness. He'd never expected her to be this swayed by the flirtation between them, especially given all the crap she was still going through.

Jamming his hands into his jeans pockets to keep from touching her, he started toward the house. Paige followed, her steps brisk to keep up, so he slowed. She'd worked hard, in fact worked hard every day, and suddenly he wanted to slip her glasses off for her to sleep.

A much more disturbing thought.

Sidestepping the vet sign swinging in the yard, he strode up the walkway toward the clinic door. The sun set late in the spring here, so the halo of the fading day still lit the yard. But the clinic was empty. Like the house.

An uneasy itch crept along his instincts. She shouldn't enter into an empty house alone.

He scanned the yard, found nothing out of the ordinary. The house, barn and hangar loomed quiet, unlit with doors closed. Sure, the dogs were causing a ruckus in the kennel, but he assumed the plane had riled them or they were shouting to Paige for food and attention. No cars were in sight along the flat expanse of land other than his rental. Which meant Paige would have no way to leave if something happened.

He wasn't going anywhere.

"What grades?"

Bo dragged his eyes off the deserted road. "Pardon me?"

"What grades and subject did you focus on?"

Resting a tennis shoe on the step, he leaned back on the porch post. Outside would be safer for talking until her brother or cousin returned. "I have a double major in education and music."

"You could be a band teacher?"

"Or chorus, even elementary music."

"Now there's an image." She sagged against the opposite porch post, eyes lighting with whimsy. "A really nice image, actually. What made you declare that as a major, especially since you planned to fly?"

"I have to admit that at first I chose it because I figured it would be an easy program to get the degree I needed for an Air Force commission. I know all about kids, and music is a breeze for me."

Damn but she was easy to talk to. Sure, he liked women's company, enjoyed charming them and watching them smile, but Paige cut through his BS and just talked to the man.

No games, but still plenty of fun.

"And teaching the kids wasn't so simple after all?"

"Hell, no." He spoke on autopilot, mostly still enjoying the way her full lips formed words or pursed when she listened, lips devoid of any gloss. The dampness would taste of pure her. "I worked my ass off with child-psych classes and testing-statistic courses. Then there was music theory. And the first day of student teaching was a bi— Uh, particularly challenging."

She leaned back against her hands. "There are women who would plant a big kiss on your face for recognizing that working with kids is a tough job."

Her eyes crinkled at the corners, her laughter ringing like a song he might try to write someday. The tune, totally and uniquely Paige, swirled in his head, scaling back life and concerns until he said to hell with it all and just felt the music. He was only going to kiss her, after all, not start some steaming affair.

Bo stepped closer. "Are you one of those women?"

 No, every rational bone in her body screamed. No, she wasn't the sort of woman who would throw her arms around this gorgeous, oh-so-young and too-charming man standing across from her on the porch steps.

But right now she sure wanted to be. "You're smooth, Rokowsky."

"Not smooth enough, apparently, because you're still standing over there." He tapped the toe of her shoe with his.

All of about twenty-four inches away. Close enough to catch the scent of leather. "You want to kiss me?"

"I was thinking you would kiss me in light of the whole 'Bo rocks because he knows kids can run you ragged as hell' revelation." He straightened from the porch post, closer without touching. "And then I would kiss you back."

Her fingers dug into the splintery wood behind her. "Do you hit on every woman in your path?"

Closing in on her, he hitched a foot up one step higher, the heat of his thigh brushing hers as he effectively blocked her way. "No need to be insulting."

Her fingers held tighter to the wooden post behind her until splinters stung. "Glad you realize that would constitute smarmy behavior."

She'd only dated a couple of men—boys really—before Kurt, but she wasn't a total innocent, and she had been married for ten years. Ten? Paige shuddered. She didn't want to think about her dead husband, especially not now.

Something was drawing her to this man in spite of all the logic telling her to keep her hormones sealed up tight for two weeks. A full day of undiluted Bo Rokowsky made for a heady brew to a woman who'd been a damn long time without a drink.

A persistent inner voice that sounded remarkably like her practical big brother reminded her she hadn't been tempted to drink even lemonade with Chuck Anderson, much less taste him. And, man, now that Bo had placed the image in her head of the two of them, legs tangled...

 Hello? Like the vision wasn't already there.

"I'm a one-at-a-time guy, thank you very much. Whatever I'm doing, I give it my complete and undivided attention."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, and I really want to give my undivided attention to kissing you." A furrow tucked between his brows. "No, wait. I would more than kiss you. I'd touch your hair and let it slide through my fingers. I'd smell your neck and wonder what that aloe scent is—"

"Avon's Skin So Soft, a mosquito repellant."

"And a mighty sexy bug repellant it is, suddenly the most erotic scent ever."

Damn, he was hypnotic even when he was funny.

 Step away!

 Step away from the bad boy, her mind blared like a recorded warning that people too often ignored and vaulted right over the restricted-area rope into forbidden territory.

Fishing the house key out of her pocket, she eased down a stair, farther from the heat of his thigh and the scent of leather. "Well, thanks for the compliment, but I believe I'll pass."