Usually everyone around him was singing to his tune. Dr Carter seemed like the kind of woman who was only interested in her own tune. She wouldn’t be swayed by a duet with him. And that kind of irked too. Austin Mitchell always got the girl.
‘Lieutenant. Lieutenant!’ The last one was a yell. He could hear the rapid fire of her stiletto heels across the concrete. It almost sounded like a run.
Her hand reached for his shoulder and she pulled him around sharply. Being manhandled by a woman. This was a first. And he liked it.
Fire was sparking from her eyes. ‘I wasn’t finished.’
Wow. He liked her like this. All simmering rage, with colour flushing into her cheeks. He knew he could be infuriating. He’d infuriated everyone from janitors to admirals, and all the people in between. He gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Sorry, I thought you were.’
She sucked in a breath and drew herself up. It was all he could do not to allow his eyes to divert to those straining breasts. Pink satin really suited her skin tone and complemented the dark suit.
She thrust a large brown envelope towards him. ‘Your papers with your instructions. You’ve to report to Houston, Texas at zero eight hundred hours on August the tenth.’ She inclined her head a little. ‘I trust you are able to follow instructions.’
He gave a little smile. ‘Only the important ones.’
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Lieutenant, do you know that as an astronaut trainee you’re assigned an overseeing officer?’
He blinked. He’d researched just about everything, but this was something he’d forgotten about in amongst all the other stuff. He gave a brief nod. ‘Of course.’
She smiled. A wide, slightly wicked smile that made her eyes gleam. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear you’ve got the toughest officer of all.’
‘And who might that be?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, that, Lieutenant Commander, would be me. See you in Houston.’ And she turned on her heel and left.
AUSTIN PULLED UP a stool next to Michael at the bar and they clinked their beer bottles together. ‘Here’s to the next eighteen months.’ Michael smiled. He hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d met a few hours ago—he was still getting over the delight of being selected for the programme.
Austin took a long slow drink of his beer. The bar was packed. And judging from the photos on the walls it seemed it was a long-time favourite of the astronauts based in Houston, Texas. He tried not to stare but it was difficult—he’d followed the careers of most of these astronauts at one point. He’d even done a school project on the first moon landing. Space had always been the dream and these guys were his real-life heroes.
A tune started cranking out from the old-style jukebox in the corner of the room. It was probably older than him and he couldn’t help but smile as the lyrics of ‘You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin’’ echoed around the room. There were murmurs beside him as people started to sing along.
The door swung open, letting in a bright streak of orange sunset. He recognised the silhouette straight away. Curves, curves and more curves.
She was wearing a dark suit similar to the one she’d had on the other day. A one-button jacket accentuating her waist and breasts and a knee-skimming skirt. Her blonde hair was smooth and sleek today—he thought he preferred it windswept and interesting, as it had been that first day.
She walked straight over to the bar and nodded at the barman, who seemed to know her drink. He set down a glass in front of her, which she picked up before heading off to one of the booths to sit next to the other instructors.
Michael bumped his elbow. ‘Which one is she, then?’
Austin took another swig of beer. ‘That’s Dr Corrine Carter—one of the medical team.’
Michael frowned. ‘Corrine Carter. That’s quite a sharp name. Sounds edgy.’
Austin watched as she glided into the leather seats in the booth. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said smoothly. ‘It looks all curves to me.’
The bartender came back and smiled. ‘Well, I guess it’s you, then.’
The two heads turned to him. ‘What do you mean?’ asked Michael.
The bartender nodded at Austin. ‘Every year, one of the astronaut candidates asks one of the instructors to dance. It’s a tradition.’ He smiled at Austin. ‘Looks like it’s going to be you.’
Austin shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
One of the other candidates—Taryn—leaned on the bar. She nodded. ‘I think I’ve heard of this before.’ Her eyes connected with Austin’s. ‘I think he’s serious.’ She glanced over at Corrine and smiled as she took a swig of her drink. ‘What’s wrong, Bates, you scared?’
Every other candidate’s head turned. It seemed as if the bartender had their full attention.
Austin tried not to smile. The girl was good. She already knew how to press all his buttons. He’d have to watch her in future.
The bartender laughed. He must have seen this all before. And Taryn almost made it sound like a dare. ‘Just be thankful for equal opportunities.’ He winked at Austin. ‘One year it was all male candidates and all male instructors.’
The candidates around burst out laughing as Austin pushed the bar stool back and stood up. He put his bottle of beer back on the bar. He glanced over at Corrine. She was in mid conversation with her colleagues, her blonde hair sitting perfectly on her shoulders. She’d slipped off her jacket and was wearing a pale blue short-sleeved fitted shirt. He could see her defined, tanned arms and her long fingers playing in the condensation on the side of her glass. That simple act sent little pulses to places it shouldn’t.
He raised his eyebrows, straightened his uniform and gave a cheeky smile to his colleagues. ‘I’m never one to step away from a challenge,’ he said confidently.
His colleagues whoop-whooped around him. It was bravado. But only he knew that. He was pretty sure what was going to happen next.
Michael grinned. ‘Watch out, Bates. That’s a slippery slope you’re on.’
Austin blinked and took a final drink of his beer. ‘I know,’ he said, smiling as he walked over to the booth.
* * *
She’d seen him as soon as she’d entered the bar. It was amazing how supersonic your vision could become when you focused on not looking at someone. Really focused on not looking at someone. It was much harder than you thought.
The gin wasn’t nearly as refreshing as she wanted it to be. Usually just a few sips made her chill. Tonight she was wound up tighter than a coiled spring. She shuffled along next to the other instructors, slipped off her suit jacket and tried to focus on what they were saying.
‘His points were off the chart.’
‘He really scored that highly?’
She took another sip of her gin. ‘Who are we talking about?’
‘Bates. Austin Mitchell. Also known as Superboy.’
Great. Perfect. The last person she wanted to talk about. ‘I wouldn’t exactly call him a boy.’
Marcia, one of the other instructors, raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? Then just what would you call him?’
The other instructors started laughing good-humouredly. Frank, the guy on her left, nudged her. ‘You gave him the news—how was he?’
Corrine tried not to look flustered and she remembered exactly how he’d looked in that dark hangar with his smouldering eyes. ‘A pain in the