Linc had been silent out of pure incredulity, but now his temper snapped. “Give me a break. I didn’t hire a private investigator to follow you around and dig up dirt. I asked a few of the engineers about you. I wanted to know why you have such a giant chip on your shoulder.”
“My chips and my shoulders are none of your concern. The only things you need to concern yourself with are the specifications for the spacecraft. We start training next week, and I don’t want to fall behind schedule because you don’t know what’s going on.”
Linc saw red. “I know everything I need to know about Draco.”
She smirked. “Really? How many days can Draco stay in orbit?”
“Two hundred and ten,” he answered effortlessly.
“That was an easy one. What are Draco’s altitude control specs?”
“Nitrogen jets plus the differential firing of the main thrusters.”
Linc and Shelly were so caught up in their altercation, they barely noticed that they’d drawn a small crowd. What he did finally see was the crowd quickly dispersing and Shelly staring in horror over his shoulder.
Holding his breath, Linc spun on his heel. “Colonel Murphy. Good afternoon, sir.”
“I want the two of you in my office now,” replied the colonel.
The long walk down the hallway to the colonel’s office made Linc acutely aware of how childishly he and Shelly had been behaving. He felt like he’d just been called to the principal’s office. Something about her brought out the worst in him.
Colonel Murphy followed them into the office but didn’t sit at his desk. Instead, he walked to the window and ran a hand through his thick white hair.
Finally, he turned to face them, reining in his anger with noticeable effort. “Do you two know how much this mission is worth? Do you understand what’s at stake here?”
“Yes, sir,” they both answered in unison.
“Then why do I have two of my most valuable team members arguing loudly enough to draw a crowd when there’s work to be done?”
Linc couldn’t find any words to excuse his behavior, and Shelly remained silent beside him.
“Frankly, I’m stunned that the two of you can’t get along,” the colonel continued. “You’re both well-liked by the other members of the team. You’re both leaders. So if you don’t have trouble getting along with anyone else, why the hell can’t you get along with each other?”
Shelly leaned forward. “Actually, Colonel—”
“You know what? I don’t care,” Colonel Murphy said, cutting her off. “You don’t have to braid each other’s hair and have tea parties together. All you have to do is get the job done. You’re stuck with each other. So find a way to behave civilly. If you don’t work it out on your own, I’ll have the two of you shoved so far down each other’s throats, you’ll speak with one voice. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“Good. Now, I don’t want to hear any more commotion from the two of you, because if I have to intervene again, I guarantee you’ll wish I hadn’t.” With that, he spun on his heel and walked out of his office.
After a moment of stunned silence, Linc and Shelly got up from their seats and hurried away in opposite directions.
Linc was still fuming on the drive home that evening. He hadn’t had a problem with a woman since he’d turned twelve. He increased his pressure on the gas pedal, letting the car gain speed to match his pulse.
Whenever his father had been angry, he’d gotten on his horse and ridden until he was spent. Linc, who’d been a city boy until his father took him in at thirteen, much preferred to ride his steel horse when he was upset. His Cobra Mustang was his pride.
But that car was in the shop now, and he was driving his environmentally conscious hybrid. Though it made his conscience feel great, it wasn’t doing much for his need to burn adrenaline.
Linc tightened his hands on the steering wheel, missing the sound of a revving engine and the rush of power that came with manually shifting gears.
He had to find a way to get along with Shelly—colonel’s orders. He rolled his eyes. Throughout his entire career in the military, he’d never been reprimanded like that. He didn’t appreciate Shelly putting him in a position to get his first reproof.
He jerked up the parking break and turned off the engine. Usually, the hour-long commute from Johnson Space Center to his ranch outside the city gave him plenty of time to work through his frustrations. But as he climbed out of the car that evening, his muscles were wound tighter than ever, and he was still muttering curses under his breath.
For once, he decided to tear a page out of his father’s book and try riding his favorite horse, Galaxy. She was black with silver dapples along the flanks that made her resemble a night sky. He’d known she was his from the second he’d laid eyes on her.
Now this had been one female he’d been able to charm out of her cantankerous demeanor, he thought as he prepared Galaxy for his ride.
He’d been warned against buying her because she’d been stubborn and extremely skittish. A steady regimen of pampering and cajoling had finally won Galaxy over. From then on, Linc thought, there wasn’t a member of the fairer sex who could resist his charms.
Until Shelly.
Mounting his horse, he cantered Galaxy across his land until they were in the open, where she could run free.
Why couldn’t he charm Shelly? She wasn’t his usual type, but he could charm most women. Just thinking about her made his blood boil so much, he could barely remember what she looked like.
She was the stereotypical librarian type, who had the potential to be attractive without the glasses, pinned-up hair, and the gigantic rod up her back. But he preferred women who put some effort into their looks. He liked it when a woman wore makeup and dressed to look good for her man.
Still, no one was saying he had to date her—just get along. Maybe he just needed to turn up the wattage on his charm. An innocent compliment or two, and she’d be eating out of his hand, the way Galaxy was taking sugar cubes from his palm right now.
They’d stopped by the creek for a rest break, but as Linc saw twilight sneaking up on him, he realized he had to get back to the ranch. If he rushed, he could get in the shower before his date that night.
He was going out with Anisa, a contestant from the most recent season of Make Me a Supermodel, and he didn’t want to show up smelling like his horse.
Shelly’s stomach rumbled loudly. The three engineers sitting alongside her launched into a chorus of jibes regarding the monster growling in her belly.
“Quick! Feed the beast,” Quincy said, tossing her a mini Snickers.
“What? I worked through lunch, trying to figure out a way to improve the extension of Draco’s grappling arm,” Shelly informed
