Explosive Alliance (17 page)

"Sorry. I didn't think I needed to check in with my baby sister." He tugged her hair again before swinging Kirstie up on his back and lumbering off toward the kennels.

Paige chewed her bottom lip and wondered why she didn't follow him. She sneaked a reassuring glance at Bo. "I was worried."

He looped a rope through the wing strut. "We had a busted fuel gauge. While your brother worked on Anderson's colicky cow, I borrowed a truck to run into town for a replacement part."

Frazzled nerves frayed even more, thanks to hellish scenarios that all involved something happening to this man. "You're sure it's safe now?"

"Absolutely. Simple problem solved." Bo cinched the knot tight.

"I'm sorry for being a witch."

"You were worried about your brother. That's understandable."

"I was worried about you, too."

He paused midknot. "Run that by me again?"

His stunned expression almost made her laugh. "Hey, I just said I was worried. I didn't declare undying love for you, for Pete's sake."

He strode past, presenting an oh-my nice view. "I'm not used to accounting to people for my whereabouts."

"What about Sister Nic?" She trailed him around the plane.

"She's listed as my next of kin, but she's only to be notified if I die. I don't want her worried with any of the other crap."

Her frazzled nerves gave up the fight altogether. Where were her Tums? "What if you were taken hostage overseas?"

"I wouldn't be a hostage. I would be a POW."

She shivered. "Either way, it's a horrible thing. Someone back here should know."

"Why?"

Could he really be serious? Had no one worried about him on the ground before? And what about when he'd hurt his hands? Surely there'd been someone waiting to console him after surgery. What was with all these men who refused to share burdens? Made it darned hard to lean on someone in return. "So they could worry, pray, wait for you."

"I didn't want to see anyone when I got back."

Got back from where? She watched his hands flex open and closed. A really sick feeling started swelling in her stomach that no amount of Tums would settle.

"Your papers are blowing away."

Huh? She jerked her gaze up from his hands and thoughts they stirred of how he may have been injured.

"What are you talking about?"

He pointed past her shoulder. "Over there on the blanket."

Paige spun...to see Kirstie's math book fanning in the wind while her mail skimmed across the lawn. "Ah, jeez."

Her thoughts scattering as fast as Kirstie's homework, Paige dashed toward the closest envelope. Bo raced past to scoop up one, two, then the last of the others before jogging back to pass them to her.

"Thank you," she gasped, as breathless from the run as watching him in motion. She waggled the envelopes in front of her. "More paperwork from the lawyer, something about a safety deposit box I need to open. He says he can handle it for me if I just sign over power of attorney."

"Whose lawyer is this? Yours or Haugen's?"

"The same." Kneeling on the blanket, she unzipped her daughter's backpack.

He tossed Kirstie's workbook and colored pencils inside. "Are you sure this guy's clean?"

"I wouldn't have anything to do with him if I thought otherwise." But of course she'd trusted her husband, too.

Thank goodness Bo was diplomatic enough to stay silent.

"After he—Kurt—was arrested, when it was obvious he'd really done the things they said..." She paused to look up and blink fast. A deep breath later, she met him eye-to-eye again, rock steady. "I told him I wouldn't start divorce proceedings until after the trial, out of respect for the fact we had a child together.

But only if he hired another attorney, one with no connections to..." She faltered. "He agreed, even told me to pick."

"And somehow that made things tougher for you."

She nodded, falling back to sit on her legs. "A part of me wonders if a slicker lawyer could have made sure he had better protection inside. I know it's wrong to think that way, but I can't help it."

"He alone is to blame for anything that came his way. He put himself, you, your child in danger."

Even if she couldn't totally absolve herself, it sure felt nice to have a champion. "I don't love him anymore."

She wasn't sure why the words slipped out, but there they were and she wouldn't call them back. He knelt beside her, staring right back with one of those lightning crackle moments. No smiles or laughs, just two people on a blanket with an undeniable tug between them.

He kept his hands on his knee and off her. "I didn't ask."

A dangerously exciting notion niggled at her. "You didn't ask, but you
were
wondering."

He didn't deny it. He just looked her dead in the eye, jaw tight, expression inscrutable and said, "Nudge."

"What?"

He shook his head slowly without taking his gaze off her. "Damned if I haven't been nudged."

"I'm still not following what you're saying."

She thought he was going to...kiss her again?

His pupils dilated in an unmistakable message of arousal— and hunger. Without laying one finger on her, he stroked those smoky blues eyes over her face, her mouth with leisurely precision until her lips parted in anticipation.

Then he blinked, slowly easing back. "I think you should be the one to check out that safety deposit box."

She struggled to keep up with his conversational shift and whatever he had in mind, still stuck back there in the tingly notion that he cared if she'd loved Kurt. She grabbed the blanket and followed. "Oh, uh, I could, I guess, maybe I even should, but—"

"I'll go with you. I have a wedding to attend in Charleston this weekend, and I was going to have to fly there anyway since the C-17's not fixed yet. We can head out late Friday. You could meet up with the lawyer Saturday morning, wedding's not until late afternoon."

A whole weekend alone together? Was this guy crazy? Or brilliant? Paige kept pace alongside, double steps. "I can't just pick up and go. I have a job to consider and a child."

"So bring her with us. She'll only have to miss a day or two of school. She'll probably get a kick out of going to my friend's wedding. It's even on the beach."

And, oh, God, didn't that start to sound like the date scenario he'd spun for her during their late-night porch discussion. "Uh, it sounds nice, but—"

"Great." He slung the Strawberry Shortcake backpack over his shoulder, and why he managed to make that look sexy, she would never know. "It's cheaper for me to fly you than for you to buy a plane ticket."

She strode alongside him in double-time steps, her life rolling out of control faster than the ripple of grain in the fields. "You've got this all planned in seconds."

And what was that about his plane not being fixed so he wasn't leaving Minot yet? Her tummy flipped.

His foot thudded on the bottom porch step.

"Bo? Bo, stop damn it." She grabbed his arm, lowering her voice and trying not to pant over the hard play of muscles under her fingers. "We're going to be alone at your place for the weekend? Are you a glutton for punishment or what?"

A hint of his old smile ticced the corner of his mouth. "Apparently so." He sprinted up the steps. "I'll start working on the flight plan and airport clearances."

She grabbed the rail for support as the screen door banged shut after him, his plans rocking her foundation in too many ways. She couldn't handle this. The sexual attraction between them was one thing.

Getting closer to any man—this man—was another matter altogether. Two weeks of intimacy, puppy dog names and shared memories whittled away at her resolve. Who knew what might happen to her heart if they moved onto that date-two scenario?

Kirstie would not be going to Charleston. The visit to her old hometown would upset her daughter, anyway.

Nudge.

Just one little word, but it kept echoing through her head. She'd been letting life drag her along for the past year while she raced to keep up and dodge the next disaster. Right now she wanted to take charge for a change. She would face the lawyer and that safety deposit box herself. And she would quit running from her attraction to Bo.

The time had come to introduce this man to a girl-next-door type in serious need of a fling.

Bo wanted to fling Paige on her back and just work this crazy attraction out of their systems.

Arriving in Charleston Saturday morning after too many travel delays that crunched them down to the wire on scheduling, he wondered if they would have five free minutes for sex—about all the time he would need, given his current state of frustration.

Except that he wanted hours with her, not some rushed encounter. But then, not much had gone according to plan this weekend. At least they were finally at the base and ready to climb into his Jeep that he'd left parked at the squadron.

His intent to fly her out in the Cessna had shifted, due to an emergency repair on the aging plane. For the best, no doubt, that the problem hadn't occurred midair.

So they'd booked a civilian flight instead, a last-minute credit-card nightmare that left Paige so pale Bo struggled for a face-saving offer to help. Luckily, Seth had come through with some frequent-flyer miles on a red-eye. Truth or face-saver? At least it put her on the plane.

So much for his hopes of arriving late Friday afternoon and dazzling her with an evening of romance since Kristie was safe and sound with Vic and Seth.

He shuffled his duffel bag from his shoulder onto the Jeep's back seat along with his guitar, marshy Charleston air steaming up off the asphalt. They were both too dragging-ass exhausted to talk and in serious need of a shower. And for some odd reason she ended up looking cute with her hair mussed and glasses skewed, sweat dotting her upper lip until he wanted to kiss it away.

The nudge moment of realization had lowered his defenses, leaving him wide-open to endless more tiny nudges as he finally let himself just watch her and breathe in her new scent. No tropical sunscreen or Skin So Soft today. She wore something distinctly flowery wafting on the humid coastal air. Chosen for him?

She passed over her small carry-on and travel tote. There was no talk of a hotel for her, even if neither of them openly acknowledged how the evening would end—after they met the lawyer at the bank
and
went to a wedding. Damn. Deadly testosterone buildup would level him before they saw the cake cut.

If Paige didn't cut and run first.

The military environment and routine wrapped itself around him with relaxing familiarity, while Paige stiffened more with every second back in the sunny South. Just because of the lawyer's appointment.

Right? He didn't want to think overlong about the possibility this base, place,
he
caused those tensing memories.

Time to put the testosterone on hold and help her through the day.

Bo closed the passenger door behind her. "Do you want the Jeep top up or down?"

"Oh, uh..." She smoothed a hand over her hair, then shrugged. "Down is fine. It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone, and the wind sounds nice."

"Fair enough." Stowing the roof, he couldn't keep his eyes from straying to the rows of parked gray planes, waiting, calling, reminding him of decisions to be made.

Later. Paige's problems first.

He settled behind the wheel and guided his Jeep past a blur of military-reg brown buildings, through the security gate. Her head tipped back, she blinked against the bright morning sun then closed her eyes while the wind whipped over them, swirling stronger as they crossed bridges into the water-locked historic region of Charleston.

Was she shutting out the place? Or simply sleeping? He started to question his insistence that she come back to Charleston. Damned arrogant of him, and if he'd screwed up, she would pay the price.

The way Tag and the other crew had taken extra hits when his recklessness cost him broken hands and made him a liability during their capture.

He glanced at her quickly. "You don't have to do this."

Her lashes fluttered open for a quick peek his way. "Now aren't you changing your tune?"

"I want you to do this for you, not because I'm a pushy bastard."

Her eyes closed again as she reached to touch his arm. "I
am
doing this for me. Call me selfish, but this whole trip is about taking control of my life."

She skimmed a finger in a scorching path down his forearm before her hand fell to her lap again.

Well, hell. No mistaking that. How long until they could find a bed?

He navigated the Jeep through a maze of narrow one-way streets lined with squat palmetto trees until he pulled up outside a three-story bank. He backed the Jeep into the tight curbside parking. "Are you ready?"

She rolled her eyes, oak branches rustling overhead, horns honking. "Hell no, but it needs to be done."

"Last chance to make a break for it."

"My running shoes are packed away." She reached for the door. "Let's get this over with."

God, he admired this woman's spunk. He gripped her elbow to stop her. "Hold on a second."

"What for?"

"For this." Leaning, he cupped the back of her head and sealed a kiss to her mouth, firm, intense, full of his restrained ache for her and unwavering drive to see her through this. Safely. He slid his fingers from the thick tangle of her silky hair and angled back into his seat. "Now it's time to go inside."

She blinked, even swayed a little—ooh-rah—before regaining her balance.

Dodging bustling professionals and slow-strolling tourists, Bo ushered Paige through the revolving doors into the ice-chilled lobby. He scanned...and didn't have to look long before finding the man he recognized from Kurt Haugen's case.

The lawyer—Thomas Creech—peeled away from the wall, smoothing his palm-tree tie into a double-breasted suit that fit well, but didn't scream overpriced slick. Creech's startled surprise at seeing Bo attested to the lawyer's memory of him from the early stages of booking Haugen. The distinguished guy might look okay, but no way was Bo leaving her side.