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Diplomacy, diplomacy, diplomacy, Kathleen mentally chanted with each rapid stride through the Frankfurt airport, Tanner shadowing her. Less controversy translated into a speedier resolution to the accident investigation.
She wasn’t risking another embarrassing “conference” with Lt. Col. Dawson, especially so close to her major’s board. At least she could use this investigation to prove once and for all she could keep work separate from her personal life.
Focus on facts, not emotions. Her carry-on bag weighed heavily on her shoulder, packed full of faxed files for the case. Reviewing them on the plane would get her that much closer to finishing. And offer a good distraction from the insane attraction she couldn’t avoid any more than Tanner’s bobbing shadow, which was swallowing hers as they charged down the airport thoroughfare.
Kathleen wove through the international throng, foreign languages bombarding her from all sides. Turning sideways, she edged past a cluster of Goth teens with alabaster faces and black lips. Tanner’s arm shot ahead protectively as he put his body between Kathleen and the mass of opaque fabric and pierced body parts.
Her independent nature, combined with the inclination to argue, trickled whispers of irritation through her. She squelched the urge to bristle. In the interest of diplomacy and being polite, she angled a grateful glance over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” said her ever-present shadow.
Sure their travel plans were identical, but she hadn’t expected him to stick so close to her. Of course, an international airport wasn’t the safest place for military personnel, thus her decision to fly in civilian clothes. Not that anyone would mess with her personal bodyguard. He sidestepped a group of airline pilots and attendants, French perhaps, given their jumbled exchange.
Tanner’s bout with a pinched nerve hadn’t slowed him one bit. He’d rejected all medication but a mild muscle relaxer. A dose of Flexeril and he’d bounded out of bed to report for duty.
He definitely looked fit now.
She would have expected civilian clothes to steal some of Tanner’s charisma. Her ex had seemed to diminish when he shed his flight suit, leaving something of himself behind and making her wonder how much of the man was real.
Not the case with Tanner. The man made the flight suit. Or the sports jacket in this case. His dark blue coat stretched over broad shoulders along with a white button-down left open at the collar. Neatly creased Dockers completed the conservative look. The clothes could have belonged to any number of traveling businessmen filing past in the crowded terminal.
The man, however, was one of a kind.
Kathleen plowed forward—smack into a group of boys. The wind knocked out of her, she gasped for breath as she righted her footing. Her vision cleared, and she assessed the wall of bodies, older teenagers, carrying oversize military issue bags and looking scared. New recruits from the states. “Sorry, soldiers.”
“No problem, ma’am,” one of the recruits answered.
Tanner gripped her shoulders, guiding her out of the traffic flow until she leaned back against a display window outside an airport gift shop. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
His brow furrowed. “You’re sure?”
“Yes! I’m sure! No need to make a big deal over getting the wind knocked out of me.” She smoothed her hands down simple blue cotton pants, suddenly feeling under-dressed.
Her hands hesitated midstroke. Why should she care about her appearance? Even if she were interested in impressing a man, it certainly wouldn’t be with her wardrobe. She left those ploys to her mother and her sisters. She felt confident in her femininity, so much so she didn’t need pumps and push-up bras to bolster her morale.
After years of trying to wrangle a spot in line with her perfect sisters, Kathleen had learned not to compete with their weapons. Better to make her own statement, in her own way, on her own terms.
Lights glistened off Tanner’s golden-blond hair, caressed his freshly shaven jaw as he gazed down at her, genuine concern in his eyes. Kathleen fidgeted with her pearl stud earring.
Okay, maybe she wouldn’t have minded a little lip gloss. She tried to scoot aside. “I’m fine. Really.”
Warm and heavy, his hands hesitated on her shoulders before sliding away in a tingling trail down her arms.
Distance. She needed a moment to recoup with him out of her personal space. “How about you go on ahead to our gate and I’ll meet you there later?”
“I’m not in any hurry.”
“No, really.” Why couldn’t she shake him? “I want to pick up some postcards for my family.”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
“You’re kidding, right? Don’t men hate standing around while women shop?”
“Not this one.” Tanner’s muscled arms folded over his chest.
“Okay, Bennett, what’s up?”
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t let me go anywhere alone except the bathroom since we stepped out of the cab.”
He shuffled, paused to look around, then faced her with narrowed eyes. “An international airport is a dangerous place for any military person. Might as well paint a bull’s-eye on our backs for terrorists.”
Reinforcing Tanner’s warning, cops lined the walls, nothing unusual for the airport, but it still gave Kathleen pause even understanding the risks. Armed police forces in green uniforms and jackboots carried machine guns over their shoulder. Guns with the paint worn off as if they’d been used. Often.
“You’ve been protecting me from unknown terrorists?” She couldn’t decide whether to be irritated, amused…or oddly touched.
He shrugged, almost masking a slight wince. The movement knocked his jacket askew, leaving his left lapel flipped up. She knew she should just tell him.
Should.
Instead, her hand crept up and smoothed the coarse, warm fabric. A slow swallow slid down his neck. “Kathleen…?”
“Your, uh, lapel.”
“Yeah, right. Thanks.”
She resented like hell the nervous twitters buzzing through her. “It’s just strange seeing you like this, I mean not in a flight suit.”
Tanner ran a finger along his shirt collar. “Gotta admit, I prefer the bag myself. But this is safer.”
“Safer? Ah, a businessman disguise. I guess I never thought about it in that much detail.”
“Too many deployments for me not to think about it. I can’t do much about the haircut, but I make changes where I can.” His palm fell to rest over her fingers that still gripped his jacket.
Heat crawled up Kathleen’s face. Oh, God. Had she really left her hand there all that time? “Thanks for worrying. But I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t move.
“I don’t need a baby-sitter.” She yanked her hand from beneath his, her wrist still tingling from a touch no longer there.
Tanner eyed a passing couple in trench coats. Muscles rippled with tension beneath his coat until the couple passed—a baby gurgling and waving from the man’s backpack kiddie seat. Kathleen sagged against the wall with relief, then stiffened.
Damn! Now he had her doing it.
Protectiveness was all well and good, but this guy was becoming downright smothering. Or was that because his large body closed off the rest of the world from view until she only saw miles of chest and eyes so blue they could hypnotize?
Snap out if it! she chastised herself. “Just because I don’t obsess doesn’t mean I’m clueless about airport security overseas. It’s not like I’m wearing my uniform.”
He snapped. “You might as well be.”
She snapped back. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Those blue pants and shirt look almost identical to a uniform. Your hair’s even tucked up according to military regs.”
“Since when did you join the fashion police?”
“Cute, O’Connell. Real cute—” He hauled in a breath and held his hands up into a T. “Time out. Let’s not draw attention to ourselves by fighting.”
Of course he was right, but his comment about her clothes still stung. What had Lt. Col. Dawson been thinking with his crazy plan?
Diplomacy. Diplomacy. Dimple.
Dimple?
Tanner stared down at her with a half smile dimpling one cheek. “Come on.”
“Huh?”
Tanner’s smile spread until the second dimple tucked into his other cheek. “We’re going to get you a disguise.”
Kathleen followed, not that she had a choice since he wouldn’t let go of her hand. His playful grin had further rocked her balance. Sure Tanner joked with everyone else around the squadron, but he saved his irritation for her.
Not now. He turned that boyish charm on her, full power, as he dragged her toward the crowded gift shop. “Let’s start with the military bag. It’s got to go.”
“But I can’t—”
“Trust me. Hmmm.” He flicked through a rack of dangling tourist tote bags with expert shopping hands. No visual skimming the surface of the display for this man. “You need a big one. Got a color preference?”
Kathleen eyed the door, then resigned herself to the inevitable. “Why ask me? I’m a fashion fugitive, remember? Color coding is beyond me.”
“No preference.” He unhooked a fuchsia bag, logo blaring—I Did Germany Bavarian Style. His eyes glinted with mischief. “Since you don’t care, how about this one? Ah, so pink isn’t your color after all?”
A reluctant smile played with her lips. Her sisters had dragged her out like this before, but shopping hadn’t seemed half as entertaining with them. “Not my first choice, no.”
Although it had definite possibilities as a Christmas gift for her mom.
Her poor mother never had quite understood her G.I. Jane daughter. Holiday dinner talk inevitably turned to gift offers for a makeover or color coding—or invitations to join the family medical practice. Kathleen had learned to smile, nod and make her own choices once she walked out the door. She was just too different, a real changeling in their midst.
“How about this, then?” Tanner passed her a beige canvas tote with a big heart declaring I Love Germany. “Better, mein Wienerschnitzel?”
My veal cutlet? Kathleen groaned, then laughed as she swiped the bag from his hand.
He tugged the tag off and placed it on the counter by the cash register. A twirling jewelry stand towered beside her. Tanner reached past, bypassing the gold. He untangled a thong cord with a nutcracker charm hanging and draped it around Kathleen’s neck. Rocking back on his heels, he spread his hands.
“Oh, yeah, that does it.” He quirked a brow, grabbing a pair of matching earrings and dancing them in front of her face. “Want these, too? My treat.”
“Maybe next visit.”
Snagging a feathered cap, he plopped it on her head. “Or how about a hat. No?”
Tanner replaced it on the hook. Carefully crouching for a lower display, he began stacking items on the counter while the clerk rang them up. He pinned a Go Frankfurters button to the tote. A miniature beer stein key chain dangled from the handle. Three bars of Toblerone chocolate spiked from Kathleen’s bag.
An unknown imp sprang to life within her, and she pulled a pocket protector full of pens from the display wall. Tanner’s brow creased.
She dropped the plastic pen case on the counter. “Businessman garb for you.”
He rewarded her with another smile. “You learn fast, meine toaster strudel.”
That grin and a few words shouldn’t have the power to bring such a heady rush of pride. Geez, it wasn’t like she’d dug out a bullet under battlefield conditions. Still, she couldn’t stifle an answering smile when he slid his pen holder into his shirt pocket.
After adding a German phrase book and map sticking conspicuously in view, Tanner slid his wallet free.
“Hey, wait, Bennett. I can’t let you pay for all of this.”
“Of course you can. It was my idea.”
“No, really.” She reached into her new canvas tote. “I can—”
“O’Connell. Stop. I’ve got some German marks to use up.” He tossed down a stack of bills before he grasped her hand. “Consider it payback for those house calls. Not exactly a down payment on a summer home…”
His hand eclipsed hers just as the sensation of his touch enveloped her senses, completely, until she could only feel the warm rasp of his callused skin. Her hand twitched free, only to fidget with her nutcracker necklace. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She laughed, the sound tighter than she’d intended. “Decking the uptight doc out like a tacky tourist? I’m sure it was.”
Genuine concern wiped away the laughter in his eyes. “Kathleen, I wasn’t making fun—”
“I know.” And that scared her more than if he had. Needing that distance, soon, she flicked a finger on his jacket over his pocket protector. “Now that I’ve got my own spy disguise, let’s find our gate.”
Kathleen spun on her heel and charged for the door, away from the temptation of this strangely enticing playful Tanner. Somehow this man posed an even greater threat to her peace of mind than the cranky patient and workmate.
Workmate. How could she have forgotten her number-one rule? No more relationships with flyers.
“O’Connell!” Tanner called. “One more thing.”
Kathleen stopped, braced her shoulders and her resolve before turning, only to find Tanner a single step away. Heat curled through her despite Tanner’s co-worker status.
“What?” She was powerless to move as she watched his big hands ease toward her, hypnotized by the thought of him reaching for her.
“Your hair.” His hand snaked behind her neck and gently tugged two pins. The short tail fell free. His movements deliberate, he untwined the rubber band, fingers combing through one notch at a time.
The man bombarded her senses, when her defenses were shaky at best. His methodical attention to her hair dried all the moisture from her mouth.
Staring up at him with unblinking eyes, she found herself studying his face with a new perspective, personal rather than professional. Her fingers yearned to explore that bump in his nose, the crook having been set ever so imperfectly.
