For now, she needed to focus on safeguarding the investigation. Her promotion recommendation.

And her heart.

Kathleen pulled into the parking lot outside the airplane hangar housing the damaged aircraft. Planes lined the ramp alongside—a row of fighters, another for trainers, then bombers and airlifters. The airlifters belonged to her.

A rogue thought blindsided her. Did she, plain ol' Doc, belong to them? It had been a long time since she'd wanted to belong somewhere. Solitude seemed safer. "Come on, hotshot. Let's get to work."

Without a word Tanner pitched the ice from his cup onto the cement tarmac. He followed her toward the hangar. It loomed large and "boring brown" like every other hangar in the Air Force. The familiarity of the building only drove home the knowledge that this could have happened anywhere, anytime, to anyone of them.

Had, in fact, happened in her world before.

Tanner stopped in front of a smaller door set in the framework of the larger garage-style door. He punched in the combination on the cipher lock.

Inside, the C-17 filled the metal cavern. A bird flapped through the webbing of rafters overhead, startled from its perch by the opening door.

A heavy coating of dust remained on the cargo craft from its emergency landing on a dried-up lake bed. Even towing it to the hangar hadn't shaken loose the caked-on crust.

Kathleen circled the wreckage. While she wasn't a believer in things mystical, even she had to admit the wounded plane seemed to hum with memories. Suddenly she understood why flyers and sailors called their crafts a personal "she" rather than an impersonal "it." The empathetic physician within her could feel the pain radiating from the damaged aircraft.

She traced a ragged metal edge as if assessing a patient for treatment, for healing. "Explain to me what I'm seeing."

Footsteps sounded, closer, slowing until Tanner stopped just behind her. The fresh scent of his shower, soap and coffee drifted her way with precise navigation. It would be so easy to lean back and let his arm drape around her while they talked. Too easy.

"They were dropping a two pack of Humvees. Two smaller jeeps lashed together on a pallet. The loadmaster lowered the ramp, began the off-load. That's when things went to hell. The pallet started down the tracks fine, but hitched sideways at the last minute, ripping the ramp off."

Twisted metal spoke of a wrenching slash as the craft tore apart. The hollowed belly of the plane held lingering echoes of stunned, perhaps horrified shouts from the crew.

Had it been like that for her husband? Andrew had never told her anything about his crash since their split had immediately followed the accident. Anything she knew came from gossip and a pilfered after-action report. "Once the ramp ripped free, wasn't the problem over? Why an emergency landing in the desert?"

"Losing part of the plane shoots the aerodynamics all to hell. Hydraulic lines and cables to the tail also ripped off, which meant the rudders and elevators didn't work fully." His arm stretched past Kathleen to pat the plane as if consoling a friend. "Talk about a nightmare to land. But even worse to fly. Imagine a lumbering beast swaying in the air. Good thing Crusty was able put her down in the desert when he did or they'd all be dead."

Kathleen shuddered. She wrapped her arms around her waist and reminded herself she should be grateful she'd only ended up divorced and not widowed.

She understood now their marriage had been over long before the actual incident, but that hadn't eased the horror of the news. Her husband had ejected over the ocean. PJs, parajumpers/pararescuemen, had been deployed to recover him. Even with her feet firmly on the ground, she'd been partially to blame for not protesting that waiver.

Of course, the accident had mirrored their marriage, a wreck a long time in the making. Inevitable but unexpected.

She still didn't understand where she'd screwed up along the way with Andrew. She'd tried so damned hard to find that sense of belonging with him she'd never found growing up.

How could she risk the same emotional crash again when she had no idea what she'd missed first go-round? Ever a worshiper of logic, she understood the facts if not the reasons. The need to understand the flyer mind seemed more pressing than ever.

For the investigation, right?

Kathleen looked at Tanner's too-kissable mouth and wondered when she'd started lying to herself. "Okay, so that's how it happened. But I need more than the facts. I can read about those in the report. Help me understand what the crew was thinking."

Tanner shifted to stand in front of her, his hand sliding down the side of the plane. "They were likely flying along, ops-normal. It was a test mission. Maybe they were a little edgy, but not expecting anything out of the ordinary since they'd flown tests with the modification three times before without a problem. Knowing Crusty, he was probably grousing over pulling test duty, instead of being in the action overseas." Tanner darted a pointed look her way as he leaned a shoulder against the plane.

"Message received, hotshot. You're not the only one who would have given me hell about being grounded. Keep talking."

"Then he would have heard the loadmaster curse. Before Crusty could do more than sit up straight, the plane would have jerked under his hands. Then noise. Lots of noise. Guys up front shouting for damage assessment. The loadmaster shouting answers back at the same time. All heavily seasoned with their best swearing. No doubt about it, the tapes would have blistered your ears. And answered a few questions."

Frustration scratched at her already raw emotions. How could he recite all those facts like an automaton? Didn't fear or some kind of emotion come into play for these guys? "You're still just giving me facts. What were they feeling? Thinking about? A life review? Loved ones? What?"

"What did they feel?" His brows pulled together at her illogical request before his face cleared and he pushed away from the plane, closer to her. "For five seconds they were absolutely certain mortality was about to bite them on the ass. During that time, yeah, they probably thought about wives, kids, girlfriends, mamas. Then instincts and training kicked in. For the next thirty minutes, they convinced themselves they were invincible gods who could put the plane on the ground no matter what the odds said."

The fire, unmistakable passion in his eyes awed her. This man lived to fly.

She couldn't resist laying a comforting hand on his arm. "You're going to be back on flying status soon. This won't be permanent."

"I hope so." Tanner shrugged off her hand under the guise of picking up a stray bolt and tossing it inside the open cargo hold.

She wasn't fooled.

"You will. I wouldn't say it if I wasn't absolutely certain. I know it seems like I came down hard on you, but…" She pushed free the words she hadn't told anyone other than a review board. "My ex-husband crashed because he was flying on a medical waiver. A waiver I knew was questionable."

Surprise flickered through Tanner's eyes but he stayed silent, thank God. She wasn't sure she could continue if he stopped her.

"Things were already rocky for us before because of…" Her voice faltered before she plowed ahead. "Because of his inability to keep his pants zipped while he was TDY. Then he had this chronic sinus problem. He wanted me to slip him some meds on the sly so he wouldn't miss out on a deployment. I wouldn't. So he went to someone else, got a waiver to fly—and crashed the plane. Things went all to hell for us after that. Basically, I'm such a screwup with relationships, my marriage ended because of a stupid head cold. Not to mention my bad judgment in falling for a man who couldn't respect who I am."

Tanner advanced a step, reached, skimmed a stray strand of hair from her face. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me, too."

His deep blue eyes became nearly translucent, letting her look into his every thought. She didn't find a trace of pity, just genuine sympathy and regret. He'd offered her more of himself with that look and one simple touch of comfort than Andrew had in two years of marriage.

Tanner didn't hold himself back from her, never had, and suddenly that scared her more than getting tangled up again with an aviator stud like her ex.

Chapter 9

Tanner stared back at Kathleen and wondered what thoughts churned in that logical mind of hers. Not that their current conversation had anything to do with logic.

Something sad drifted through her cool-blue eyes, and he hated that another man could still stir that much emotion in her. He wanted to pull her to his chest and stroke that tight braid until whatever twisted inside her eased.

He'd never been good at resisting impulses. Tanner twined that strand of hair around his finger. He waited for her to object, shove him away, twist his pinky again.

She didn't move, just stood looking as confused as he felt. He drew her forward with a gentle tug to the lock of hair.

Still no objection.

Tanner let her hair slither free and traced his knuckles over her cheek, along her jaw, across her lips. Such a delicate face with petal-soft skin.

He kept his touch light, in part because he didn't want to startle her away, but also because she seemed so damned fragile right now in spite of that iron will. He sketched his fingers down her neck, dipping inside her flight suit to trace her collarbone.

Kathleen blinked twice, quickly, as if trying to keep her eyes from sliding closed. As much as he wanted her, he couldn't make himself hurry through the exploration. He needed to touch her. Had to watch her as they stood caught in something stronger than an impulsive kiss.

Her hand drifted up, taking far too long in Tanner's estimation. Finally she touched him back. One finger trailed down his nose, pausing to rub the crooked set. A brief smile played with her lips. Her fingers brushed his hair back from his brow, once, twice, again even though there wasn't a chance his close-cropped head needed it.

Uncertainty whispered from her eyes. "Tanner?"

He prepared himself for the fact he would have to step away. He hadn't prepared himself for the disappointment. And over what? It wasn't as if they were going to crawl into that plane and have sex.

Although the thought held definite appeal.

A bird flapped overhead, and Kathleen stumbled back a step just before the door opened.

Damn. He'd forgotten about his meeting with Crusty and Quinn.

The subcontractor strode inside, brisk, confident, efficient, just the kind of guy Kathleen should want. "Morning, all."

Crusty ambled past, whipping off his sunglasses. "Sorry I'm late. Overslept."

His spiking bed head verified that.

Kathleen's gaze flickered over his squadron scarf sticking half out of his flight suit. Crusty shot her a wink and tucked it in. "Just like old times, huh?"

Tanner didn't need the reminder he could be hanging an old friend out to dry, anymore than he needed the reminder that Kathleen was still wrong for him. Unattainable.

Quinn splayed a hand on the side of the plane and turned to Kathleen. "I didn't expect to see you here today."

"I'm tagging along with Captain Bennett until my toxicology reports are in." She smoothed back a loose strand of hair. "Let's get to work."

As they circled the plane, Tanner interviewed Crusty and Quinn. Tanner couldn't suppress a grin as Kathleen proved herself more than a tagalong, adding astute questions of her own. God, he enjoyed watching her analytical mind wrap itself around a piece of information. Just like that snug braid and the way her mouth tightened when she was holding herself back, her fast thinking challenged the hell out of him.

Kathleen paused by the ramp, turning to Quinn. Her hands gentled over the ragged metal. "Show me where they installed the modification."

Quinn crouched near the ramp and slid his hands along the inside wall of the plane, near the flooring. "It goes right here."

The subcontractor shot her a tolerant smile. Tanner almost laughed out loud. The poor fool underestimated O'Connell. Tanner stood to the side and watched her work.