“I don’t think so. Where would we land, anyway?”
“We can chance it in Turkey. Germany would be better.”
“But?”
“It’s safer if we press through straight for the States. Except of course Trey’s health has to come first.”
Intimacy wrapped around her, different from the sensual atmosphere of a few moments ago. Rather a more comfortable aura of two parents discussing their children. Each parent-style word sliced her insides with endless tiny paper cuts.
She forced herself to think of Trey. “I’ll keep a close watch on him, especially for the next hour, but I think the worst has passed, now that he’s away from the guard’s smoke. Once we land, you could take him by the E.R. just to be certain.”
“I’ll have a flight surgeon waiting for us.” Daniel lifted his headset from around his neck and readjusted the fit before plugging into the mounted outlet. “Wren, patch a call through to Charleston and have Doc Bennett meet us when we land. One of the boys has asthma and I want him checked out. Make sure Kathleen knows I’m the one asking.”
Kathleen? An irrational jealousy stirred. Of course Daniel had women in his life, professionally and personally. Not that she cared.
Yeah, right.
Daniel flipped the mouthpiece away. “All set. Anything else we can do?”
She was finished playing out this bizarre pseudoparenting game. She’d made her restitution to Daniel’s father. No more guilt. The boys had their brother Danny now. He could feed them junk food until they spun out on sugar if he wished.
They weren’t her children. Even considering assuming that role poured straight alcohol on every one of her internal paper cuts.
Mary Elise retreated deeper inside herself and away from Daniel’s too familiar smile. “We’ll be okay, except he’s usually physically drained after an attack. Please pull the blankets out of the crate for me to spread out here so he can sleep.”
Daniel watched her face tighten into the prim lines meant to distance him but instead made him want to gather up a fistful of her hair and kiss the look away. All the same, her autocratic coolness evicted their brief moment of connection.
For the best while he was trying like hell to find solid ground after being knocked on his ass over finding her in his plane. He wanted nothing more than to take an hour or ten to study this new Mary Elise in front of him. To understand her. But she wasn’t a scientific equation.
A poised elegant woman stood in place of his freckled coltish friend. He’d be a fool not to notice her appeal. He’d be an even bigger fool to act on it.
Those two boys needed him. Austin would likely be a snap to figure out. The imp had a gleam in his eyes Daniel recognized well. Trey, however, looked so much like their imperious old man, he could already predict the head butting.
Time to get his mind the hell off unforgettable red hair and gentle curves.
Daniel dropped his hand from the side of the plane and allowed extra air to slide between them before he fell victim to the temptation to untangle a strand of her hair from her gold hoop earring. “There are two crew-rest bunks. We can put the boys there.”
“Does that break some kind of regulation? What about the crew’s sleep?” She straightened both of the rings on her right hand—a ruby dinner ring on her middle finger and on her thumb, a large gold band worn only half way down.
Too large to have been her wedding ring.
What had she done with her band after her divorce? She’d mailed his engagement solitaire to him once he’d returned to the Academy, in spite of his insistence that she keep it.
The diamond ring burned a hole in his sleeve pocket even now, a constant reminder to learn from past mistakes. “This whole mission breaks regs. I’m not overly concerned about a little technicality such as where they sleep. The crew can rack back here if they need to catch a nap.”
The plane jostled on an air pocket. His hand shot up instinctively to brace her waist. Her familiar scent of honeysuckle teased his nose.
His hand cupped her ribs, the underside of her breast heating his skin. Small, soft. Perfect.
Were her breasts as sensitive as they’d been in the early weeks of her pregnancy? They’d spent every one of those postpregnancy test days exploring each other’s bodies without fear of consequence since the consequences had already occurred.
The heat of her now fired memories. Fired him. If he moved his thumb…
His headset crackled in his ears.
“Crusty?” Renshaw called. “Wanna finish that update, please?”
He jerked his hand away and flipped the mouthpiece in place. “The nanny opted not to join us and sent a substitute. We have a stowaway.”
“Stowaway?” Bo Rokowsky piped up. “Man or woman?”
Daniel’s hand clenched around the memory of warm silk and soft Mary Elise against his hand. “Woman.”
“Is she hot?”
Yes. Hell, yes. “Not germane to the mission, Rokowsky.”
“’Cause if she is, I’ll take over down there and you can come up here.”
“Can it, Bo.”
“Touchy, touchy. Or maybe not enough touching lately in spite of all those women wanting to cook you dinner and iron your flight suits.”
So what if he enjoyed a few casserole gifts now and again? Big freaking deal, and nothing compared to Rokowsky’s history with women.
He wouldn’t discuss Mary Elise over interphone with the squadron Casanova. A man who sure as hell wasn’t getting anywhere near her during this flight. “Keep this up and I’ll tell her what your call sign stands for, ‘Bo.”’ The guy’s real name had long ago faded from memories as he’d gone by Bo since training days. “Meanwhile, how about working on flying the plane or something?”
Daniel flipped the mouthpiece aside again. “We need to talk.”
“We are talking.” Her spine pulled straighter—which exposed a tempting patch of graceful neck.
He nodded toward his brothers. “Away from them so they can’t read your body language. I need to know more about what happened in Rubistan if I’m going to keep them safe.”
Tension rippled through her.
He resisted the urge to stroke her arm, cup her shoulder and pull her to him. Worse than wanting to palm her breast, he wanted Mary Elise to fling her arms around his neck like so many times before.
Damn, he’d missed her. Missed their easy friendship. No surprise he’d screwed it up. A slew of failed relationships since with casserole-cooking and uniform-ironing women hammered home his shortcomings in the relationship department. The latest to walk had deemed him “emotionally unavailable.”
Whatever
