by Jill Shalvis
Mind-boggling, when she allowed herself to think about it. She and the others would literally have their lives in each other’s hands.
Practice. Definitely practice.
As pilot, Mike spent much of the day right by her side. They weren’t alone, not even for a second. Though every inch of skin was literally hidden from view—everything but their eyes, through the viewing lens on their mask—she was so aware of him that every time he so much as drew in a deep breath, she knew it. If he looked at her, she felt it.
And when he accidentally—or maybe not so accidentally—brushed up against her, her senses went into overdrive.
She didn’t like it.
She ignored it.
She did so by remaining cool and in control, refusing to be baited or sidetracked. Once, when the rest of the team was on the other side of the large mechanism they were using to hoist the huge pieces of equipment, Mike planted himself in front of her, purposely looking directly into her mask as his gloved hands slipped to her hips and gently but deliberately squeezed.
They were separated by layers and layers, and yet she felt his fingers as if they were skin to skin. Her eyes fluttered closed, her heart picked up speed. And she actually ached. Ached.
When she forced her eyes open, she expected triumph to flare in his own deep, dark-brown gaze, but all she saw was his own response, which mirrored hers.
After that, it got harder and harder to ignore him. As a result, maybe she worked them all a little harder than she might have, but she told herself she was a perfectionist and simply expected the best out of them.
That they were delivering that best went a long way toward easing the knowledge that the rest of the team didn’t especially like her. But they respected her, and had the same work ethic she did, so that would have to be good enough.
Besides, she was used to not being liked. Not many understood her drive, her need to succeed. At times, she didn’t understand it herself. Her parents supported her; her friends supported her. All her life she’d been loved and cherished. It wasn’t a lack in any of those things that drove her but a simple, overriding hunger for success.
And she would have it.
MIKE WAITED IN THE DARK, in the hallway, silent and tense and listening for Corrine’s standard midnight run to the bathroom.
It was stupid, even pathetic, especially when he had no idea what he wanted to say or do.
Actually, that was one big, fat lie.
He knew exactly what he wanted to do to her, and it involved no clothes, a bed and lots of moaning.
What was this crazy need he had for her? It made no sense. Especially when she’d made it clear she wanted to forget she’d ever known him. He should want to forget her, too, given what a tough, no-nonsense commander she was.
But he couldn’t forget. And so he waited.
She didn’t disappoint. Just past midnight, she came out of her room, wearing her men’s boxers and tank top.
Shrinking back into the shadows, he watched her as she walked with her frank, here-I-come gait until she disappeared into the bathroom.
When she came back out, yawning broadly, he grabbed her.
She nearly screamed, but quickly controlled herself. And while he admired her control on the job, he didn’t want her in control now, he wanted her hot and bothered and unsettled, which happened to be the only time he got to see the woman he suspected was the real Corrine Atkinson.
She fought him, but he used his superior strength to haul her closer until they were chest to chest, thigh to thigh, and all the delicious spots in the middle were meshed together.
Ah, just what the doctor ordered.
“What are you doing?” she whispered fiercely.
Hell if he knew. “How about this?” And he captured her mouth with his.
Immediately she went utterly, completely still, and he knew he had her. If she’d fought him, he’d have let her go instantly. If she’d given him any sign that this wasn’t where she wanted to be, he’d have stepped back and gone to bed. He might have been hard as steel and frustrated beyond belief, but he would have gone.
She didn’t give him that sign, but she didn’t kiss him back, either. He wanted so much more, wanted to see her eyes slumberous and sexy with the same hunger he felt, wanted her body humming and needy for his, wanted her to look at him the way she had in his hotel room, the look that told him he was the only one who could possibly do it for her in that moment.
He thought maybe he wanted even more, but that idea unsettled him, so he concentrated on the physical craving instead. Her mouth was warm and tasted exactly as he remembered. Gentling his hold, he smoothed his hands up and down her back while nibbling at her lips, teasing as he sought the entrance she would have to willingly give him.
It wasn’t until he said her name softly, cupping her face so that he could look deep into her eyes, that she let out a quiet hum and slid her arms around his neck. “Mike.”
He let out a rough groan when she tilted her head, searching for a deeper connection. And he gave it to her. Within two seconds that connection was not only deeper but scorchingly hot. Corrine had one hand fisted in his hair, holding him tight as if she thought he might back away.
Fat chance.
Her other hand slid around his waist, her fingers slipping beneath his T-shirt to the base of his spine before stroking up his bare back. A simple touch, even an innocent one, but it set him on fire. His hands were busy, too, dancing down her arms to her hips, sliding beneath her shirt to glide along bare, warm skin he couldn’t get enough of. Their kiss was long, wet, deep and noisy, but just as he brought his hands around to cup her breasts, one of the bedroom doors behind them opened.
Corrine froze and he felt her horror. Silently swearing at the loss of her hot body and their privacy, he put a finger to her lips and quickly backed her into the bathroom.
Like two teenagers they stood stock-still in the dark room, listening.
Nothing.
“My God,” she whispered. “I can’t believe I— That you— That we—”
“Nearly ate each other up?”
“Don’t say it.”
She sounded disgusted, and it made him mad at her all over again. Why, he wondered, did he care about this woman? Why did he care that his teammates were grumbling about her cool and controlled demeanor, that they didn’t see the real Corrine as he did? Why did he care that beyond the facade she showed the world, she had the deepest, most soul-wrenching eyes he’d ever seen?
“We nearly…again.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, and her abject misery fueled his growing temper.
“You can only have sex with me as a stranger? Is that it?”
“We were not having sex!”
“So when you were writhing and panting in my arms only a minute ago, tearing at my shirt, whimpering for more, pawing at me, demanding more…what was that?”
She tried to stare him down, but he didn’t stare down easily. He could see the wheels turning in her head as she strove for a way to make this okay in her little dream world, where they didn’t have this shocking need for each other.
“All we did just now was kiss,” she said finally, nodding her head as if she could live with that particular fantasy.
Time to pop her little bubble.
“Honey,” he said with a disbelieving laugh, “if that was just a kiss, I’ll eat my shorts.”
“It was!”
“How is it then that you were two seconds from coming, and I’d barely even touched your breasts?”
He didn’t need light to see the hot flush of anger on her face. “You’re impossible!” she spat. “I really hate that!”
“And you’re ashamed of what we did. I hate that.”
They stared at each other, but there was nothing left to say.
7
THE NEXT DAY WAS SPENT in one meeting after another again, and by the end of it, Corrine was mentally drained.
It wasn’t the work; she loved that. It was Mike.
She couldn’t forget how he’d looked when he told her he thought she was ashamed of what they’d done.
She’d let him believe it, and in doing so, had hurt him.
See? This was what happened when one acted irresponsibly. And having sex with a stranger in his hotel room definitely constituted an irresponsible act.
But it was the oddest thing…she couldn’t truly bring herself to regret what they’d done. Not one moment of it. She sure as hell wasn’t ashamed, either. Which meant, for honesty’s sake, she had to set the record straight. Then and only then could she get on with life and put her full concentration into this mission.
It took a while until she was free of the bureaucracy and red tape she had to dance through all day in her meetings with NASA officials, scientists from no less than five other countries, and a representative for the students’ experiments, but finally she went in search of Mike. Her intention was to straighten this out, which in no way explained why her body was humming at just the thought of seeing him again. Nope, she attributed that to hunger.
She couldn’t find him. She couldn’t find any of her team. As a last resort, she hunted down Ed, one of the administrative assistants.
“They’re out to dinner,” he said.
“They?”
“Your team.”
Was that pity in his eyes? It was hard to tell, as he vanished as soon as he’d answered, reminding her that most of the assistants lived in terror of her.
For no real reason, she told herself. Yes, she was usually in a hurry. And maybe sometimes she could be…well, abrupt. It wasn’t anything personal, though.
But her team going off without her, now that, she was pretty certain, was personal.
No biggie. She didn’t want to eat with them, anyway.
Much. Besides, she had work to do.
She stayed late to prove it, but she knew damn well a small part of her was wondering if any of them would come back after dinner to see how she was doing.
Ah, geez. Pathetic. She hated that she’d been reduced to thinking such nonsense.
Get over it and move on.
THAT NIGHT SHE LAY AWAKE, staring at the ceiling. The mission was far from her mind, which was otherwise occupied by a tall, leanly muscled, beautiful man who, when he smiled could talk her into jumping off a cliff.
Maybe he’d be waiting to pounce on her in the hallway, she thought at midnight, leaping to her feet, her heart racing in anticipation. But as she made her way to the bathroom, as slowly and loudly as she dared, no one grabbed her. Not then, and not when she came out.
She was alone, truly alone, just as she’d always wanted to be.
BEFORE HE KNEW IT, their week at Marshall Space Flight Center was over. Mike and the rest of the team were leaving for Houston and the Johnson Space Center, where they would remain in training until mission launch at Kennedy Space Center, Florida.
There was much left to be done. At Johnson Space Center, each of them would be run through their paces. Over and over again. Loading. Unloading. Constructing. Repairing. Reconstructing. Takeoff. Landing. Going through each possible scenario, and just when they thought they were close to done, they’d be ordered to do it again.
NASA took it all very seriously. Having had painful, painful failures in the past, mistakes that had cost billions, not to mention the taxpayers faith, they didn’t care to repeat any of those mistakes.
Mike understood this all too well, and still he loved his job. He loved everything except the fact he was working for a woman he wanted to kiss stupid, and he couldn’t quite get that out of his head.
He planned to travel to Houston the way he’d traveled to Huntsville, piloting himself in his honey of a plane, which he’d rebuilt himself.
Frank had also flown himself into Marshall, so he flew himself out. But Stephen and Jimmy jumped at Mike’s offer to come along with him.
And to his shock, so did Corrine.
She appeared on the tarmac, her bag on her shoulder. “You have room for one more?”
“Absolutely.” At the sudden, awkward silence, Mike glanced at Stephen and Jimmy, both of whom shrugged noncommittally. Their faces had been wiped clear of the laughter they’d just been sharing over some obscene joke, but even they were professional enough not to quibble if their commander wanted to horn in on their ride.
With Stephen and Jimmy preoccupied admiring Mike’s work on the Lear, Corrine moved close. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“You’ve said that before.” Mike lifted a brow. “And haven’t really meant it.”
Shifting from one foot to the other, she let out a half laugh, and he realized with some shock that she was nervous. Corrine never looked nervous, and his curiosity twitched. She seemed so put together in her business suit, revealing none of her lush curves and warm softness. He remembered both so well that her armor didn’t matter, and his curiosity wasn’t the only thing that twitched.
Damn her anyway, for standing there killing him, for being so heart-wrenchingly beautiful. “Talk away then,” he said with far more lightness than he felt.
“Okay, good. Thanks.” She set down her bag. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Yes, he had. Self-preservation. But damned if he was going to tell her that. Mike Wright avoided no one. “How is that possible? We’ve been working side by side for over a week now.”
A breeze blew over them, but Corrine had her hair tightly back and beaten into submission. Not a strand moved, not as it had that night they’d been together, when her mane of hair had flowed over his hot flesh, teasing him with its silky scent.
“Yes, we worked together,” she agreed. “But we haven’t…”
It was wrong to pretend he had no idea what she was trying to say—wrong, but ever so satisfying. “Yes?” he coaxed. “We haven’t…?”
She let out a huff of breath. “You know. Talked. Or…”
Even more satisfying was her blush. “Are you referring to our hot, wet, long kisses? Or the hot, wet fun we had in my hotel room?”
Her eyes darkened. Her mouth turned grim. “It was a mistake to bring this up. I’m sorry.” She went to step past him and into the plane, but he stopped her.
“It was wrong,” he said in a harsh whisper. “Because you don’t really want to talk about it. You want to forget it ever happened. You’re ashamed—”
“No.” She put a hand to his chest, deflating his sudden anger with just one touch. “I’m not ashamed. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m sorry I let you think it.”
For a moment, she actually let him see inside her, past the aloofness and into the woman he’d held so closely that night. It gave him a funny ache in his chest. “Why do you do that?” he whispered, unable to help himself from stroking her arm. “Why do you let them think of you as the Ice Queen? I know you’re not.”
Her eyes widened; her mouth opened, then carefully shut. “What?”
His stomach fell. “Nothing.” God, she didn’t know what they called her. “Nothing at all.”
“What?” she finally said again, very, very softly. “What did you say they call me?”
His fault, that devastating, stricken look in her eyes, and though she managed to hide it with amazing speed and grace, he couldn’t have felt worse. “Corrine—”
“Never mind.” She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin high. “No need for me to be insulted when it’s the truth.”
“Wait…”
“No, let’s not. We have a meeting this afternoon and need to hustle.”
“Yes, but—”
“You going to fly this baby or what?” she snapped, stepping aboard. She nodded curtly to the others, without an outward sign that she’d just been brought to her knees.
“Final inspection complete?” she asked Mike when he slid into the pilot’s seat.
“Done. Corrine—”
“Don’t.” Sitting there next to him in the cockpit, as if she belonged there, she proceeded to grab his clipboard and start the prefligh
t check.
He grabbed it back. “I’ve got it.”
She picked up his headphones and would have put them on, but in his plane, he was in charge. He took those from her as well.
“Route?” She ran her hands over the controls.
“I know how to get us there.” He brushed her fingers away from the instrument panel.
She shot him a look of annoyance. “Then do it.”
He ignored the tone of that remark, because he understood she was hurt. But with her obnoxious, controlling attitude, he was damn close to forgetting how lush and warm and giving she could be.
He didn’t like it.
In fact, he downright hated that aloofness, and decided to destroy it. He waited until they were in the air and Corrine was fully relaxed, lost in her own little world. Perfect. She was reading an aviation magazine, deeply engrossed, when he reached over and put his hand on her thigh.
She nearly leaped out of her skin.
Oh yeah, he thought, wisely keeping his grin to himself, his good humor restored. He’d gone at this thing all wrong. Letting her build up her defenses wasn’t the answer; driving her crazy was, and apparently he could do that with just a touch.
“Could you hand me a tissue?” he asked, gesturing toward the small box next to her right hip. Before he removed his hand from her thigh, he stroked her, just once.
She fumbled and dropped the tissue, then jerked when she finally handed it to him and their fingers touched.
He smiled, and her gaze went to his mouth.
Bingo, he thought, pleased with himself. Very pleased. For the rest of the flight he touched her whenever possible, when no one else would see. He even managed to suck on her earlobe for one delicious second.
She nearly leaped out of her skin then, too, but she didn’t say a word. Just glared at him while the flush on her cheeks and her shallow breathing gave her away.
He expected great satisfaction to course through him, as he’d indeed shattered her aloofness, but since she was clearly furious at him for doing so, it was somehow a hollow victory.