Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors #2)

Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors #2) Page 8

Her bedside manner did not suck, damn it.

She winced. All right, maybe she wasn't the soft and cuddly type like her mom and sisters. She'd learned long ago to stick with what she knew and did best, then no one would be disappointed.

Kathleen locked away her conciliatory remarks. For this trip she wasn't Tanner's doctor. She wasn't his Academy bud. And she wasn't the woman who would tend to his aching back. She was nothing more than his workmate.

Her hand skimmed down the nutcracker necklace that weighted like a ten-ton reminder of Tanner's hundred-watt smile.

Tanner crossed his arms over his chest and braced his feet as the shuttle bus plowed around a corner toward the rental car building. The ever-present L.A. smog battled with misting rain to haze out visibility. Drizzle streaked the windows, the overcast sky mirroring his mood.

Kathleen hadn't released her grip on the seat in front of them. There wasn't a chance the bus driver's haphazard speedster techniques would fling her against him. The stubborn set of her jaw and white knuckles told Tanner she wouldn't budge if they hurtled into a three-car pileup.

He'd made her mad, not unusual, except he had no idea what he'd done this time. The comments about their Academy days? Maybe. But she'd handled it, stopping him dead with a chilling stare. He couldn't dodge the notion that he'd hurt her feelings somehow.

That bothered him more than any of their bickering.

The shuttle bus squealed to a shuddering stop in front of the rental car building, puddles sluicing up onto the sidewalk. Tanner followed Kathleen's stiff back and trim, too-enticing h*ps all the way inside.

Wasn't she going to talk to him? They couldn't resolve anything if she wouldn't speak. That woman had the silent treatment down pat.

He would wait her out.

Not that he'd ever been the patient type.

Just hang tough. The ninety-minute drive to base would likely stretch into a couple of hours, thanks to rush hour traffic.

Oddly, he missed sparring with her. Mental boxing matches were something he shared with Kathleen alone. The women he dated had always been more agreeable, yet something about Kathleen's bristly manner put him at ease and fired him up all at once. One of their lively exchanges would spark up a dreary day.

Kathleen advanced in the line to the garland-strewn counter. One of the twenty androgynous agents droned, "Driver's license, proof of insurance and credit card, please."

Tanner reached for his wallet.

So did Kathleen.

Uh-oh.

He sensed her silent treatment was about to come to an abrupt end. Anticipation churned inside him as it did during those last sixty seconds before take off.

His hand twitched on his wallet. "I always drive on TDYs."

"So do I." Kathleen flung her canvas tote onto the counter and began digging for her wallet in earnest.

"And I'm going to look like a real chauvinist if I say I want to drive, anyway." Tanner tried to keep his tone light, a smile in place, but suspected the annoying tic in one eye might give him away.

She planted a hand on the counter and perched her other hand on her hip. "I'll make this easy on us. Who has the rental car on their travel orders? Military joint travel regs state that's who is responsible for the car. Need me to cite the reg?"

"Ah. The regs."

"They're there for a reason, Bennett." Kathleen pivoted on her heel and fished out a file just as Tanner yanked his orders from his carry-on. She opened the file.

The small flash of victory in her tired eyes said it all.

Damn. More right-seat copiloting for him. Stepping back, he raised his hands in surrender. "Chauffeur away."

At least Kathleen didn't gloat over her win, merely passed her driver's license and military travel orders to the impatient clerk.

Outside, Tanner frowned at the overcast sky. Sixty degrees and drizzling, the weather would make for a miserable ride out. They wouldn't even reach base before dark.

Keys jingling with her brisk walk, Kathleen wove between lines of cars. Tanner kept his eyes off her backside this time. The last thing he needed were thoughts of those slim h*ps taunting him for the next two hours in the car. As long as he kept his distance until she cooled off and started talking again, he would be fine.

Then he saw "it" in a deserted corner of the lot.

Their car. If it could be called that.

How could he have forgotten? The government always opted for econo-class compacts. If he managed to wedge himself inside, there wouldn't be an inch to spare between them.

Kathleen unlocked her door, tossed her luggage on the back seat, then paused halfway in, staring over the roof at Tanner. "What now?"

He looked back and tried not to notice the mist dampening her shirt. "I wonder if they have anything smaller."

Her brow furrowed as she glanced around the lot, cars starting and departing at a regular pace. "I don't think so."

"No, really. They must have a scooter back there. It would probably be more comfortable."

Compassion softened the defensive edge in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Bennett. But you're going to have to hang in there for another couple of hours." She glanced at her watch. "I can authorize you another dose of medication in fifteen, more minutes."

Great. Just what he needed, hours alone, mega-relaxed with her in that shoe box with her wet shirt and those sympathetic eyes. The double dose of meds would have him saying God only knew what. Not a chance. "My left leg won't fit in there, much less the rest of me. We're going to have to upgrade."

"We can't."

"Because?"

"Regulations. The government only authorized us for a compact. We aren't Fortune 500 travelers, you know."

"Then I'll pay the extra."

"That's not in accordance with our orders. And if we aren't in compliance with those orders and we're in an accident, we're not covered." Her lips pulled tight with that oh-so-proper schoolmarmish look that never failed to make him want to do all sorts of very improper things with her.

"You really do memorize this stuff."

She shrugged apologetically. "We're expected to be good stewards of the government's money."

He had to rent another car. Preferably one with a large console between the driver and the passenger. "Put your calculator away for a minute and be practical."

"Looking for special treatment?"

"I'm looking for leg room."

"Good thing you're not driving, then." She swept her hair off her face. "You'll have extra space in the passenger side."

That simple glide of her hair stirred his tired body when reserves were nearing empty. Hours of uninterrupted Kathleen had him so on edge he needed to jog, swim laps, anything to burn off the tension twisting inside him. A tension that had the annoying habit of settling right below his belt.

A tic started in his eye again. "Sticking my head out the sunroof doesn't sound appealing."

"Last time I checked, they didn't offer rental tanks." Hands on her hips, she threw her shoulders back.

Which gave him an unrestrained view of her damp blouse. The thin cotton became transparent when wet, revealing the edges of a lacy bra.

Tanner closed his eyes, rubbed the bump on his nose and reminded himself how the twice-set crook had occurred because he'd charged in before thinking.

They could have been right back out there on the flight line again, sparring through their frustration. If he didn't watch out, he would be running his hands through her hair, over that blouse.

She would look up at him with those blue eyes that made him want to fly right inside without thinking about the consequences. If she didn't slap him first.

This had to stop. Ignoring the attraction hadn't worked for the past year any more than it had twelve years ago. His attempt at discussing the problem obviously hadn't been direct enough. They had to get this out in the open and get over it. His hand fell away from the bump on his nose. Forget worrying about impulsiveness.

Fourth down and only one second left on the clock. Time for a "Hail, Mary," pass. "Damn, you're hot when you pout."

Chapter 5

Kathleen choked on the retort she'd planned that suddenly wasn't worth a damn. "What?"

Tanner dropped his luggage on the cement and rested his arms on the car roof. His lazy blink belied his laser-sharp stare. "I said you're really hot when you pout."

She clutched her open door, a logical move since her world was suddenly tilting off center. If only she weren't so exhausted. She didn't have the mental edge to battle with Tanner right now, not when the past hours spent rubbing against him had left her edgy and restless. "Did you take too many of those muscle relaxers?"

"Followed your orders to the letter, Doc." His head cocked to the side. "I had a lot of thinking time back in the infirmary, thanks to you, and I figured something out."

"Please share your Demerol delusions." Kathleen pulled her lips into a tight line to keep from saying something she might regret.

His gaze hovered along her mouth for a second too long before he continued. "We don't like each other much."

That hurt. More than it should have. More than any of Andrew's countless digs.

And that made her damned mad.

Tanner shouldn't have the power to tweak feelings she hadn't realized could still be pinched by a careless comment. "So now you are a rocket scientist as well as an ace pilot."

He pushed back from the car and lumbered around the hood toward her. "But we've got this … chemistry thing between us."

She didn't bother to deny it. What would be the use? Hadn't she already tried that on the plane?

He stopped in front of her. She kept the open door between them like a shield. Thank goodness for the drizzle cooling her body or she would definitely be overheating by now. "Your point?"

"Most folks who don't get along just play nice and stay clear of each other. That doesn't seem to work for us, and it's because of that chemistry. When it gets to be too much, we snap. The tension's gotta go somewhere. We fight to blow off steam."

Tanner rested his hands on the door beside hers, not touching. How small her hands looked next to his on the canvas of a teal door. One slight move and his hand could eclipse hers in callused heat.

She struggled not to yank her hands away and step back. His head angled right. Mist clung to his hair. Droplets sprinkled his skin just begging for her to taste away. If he leaned two more inches, if she arched up on her toes, their mouths would meet.

Of their own volition, her lips parted. "We fight because we want each other?"

Was that husky voice really hers?

"Yes, ma'am, we do."

The breath from his words kissed her mouth as surely as if he'd placed his lips there. The heat lingered, excited. "And?"

"Now, as I read it, you don't want to do anything about the attraction."

Was there a hint of a question in his voice? Did she want there to be? And if she even insinuated as much, she could easily find out she was mistaken. She'd misjudged her husband's intentions more than once.

What was she thinking? The last thing she needed was to crawl in bed with Tanner Bennett. She forced her voice not to quiver. "Of course I don't want to pursue it."

He winced as if he'd pinched a nerve all over again. "Well, you can't be any clearer than that."

Her fingers itched to cover his. "Tanner—"

"No. It's okay." He ambled back, his arms extended as he held the car door. "I agree, and I don't expect you to feed my ego. We just need to clear this up. I tried to talk about it back on the plane, but, well, subtle's never been my strong suit."

His hand shot up to forestall her automatic retort. She bit back her tank-being-more-subtle comment and waved for him to continue.