needed to leave. Now. “Who you are doesn’t matter to me. How you work does. And I’ve yet to see any work accomplished to judge.”
Draping his elbow on the back of his seat, he gripped the edge of hers with one hand while plucking the dog from her other. “Yeah, I like your take-no-shit attitude. And I like the fact that you’re straight up with me. Makes me trust you more and that’s a good thing. But honest to God, you need to wash some starch out of your spine.”
She bristled, more Josephine-prickly than that cactus patch by his garage. Who the hell did he think he was? And she couldn’t afford to say squat back.
He dropped the Beanie Baby back in the cup holder. “I know this mission is important to you, and I’m not diminishing what you do. But even with my feet nailed to the ground like they are, I could wade through your paperwork on this test halfway to snoring. Or half-drunk.”
She couldn’t stop her Josephine sniff.
“That’s right, Buttercup. I’m a rude, washed-up test pilot who drinks too much and doesn’t shave enough. And, yeah, I snore, since my eardrums and sinuses blew out on that last flight.” He stopped short, his hard weathered face freezing. “Ah, shit. Forget it. I’m outta here.”
Diego reached for the door handle. Remorse, empathy and something else she didn’t want to examine stirred.
“Wait!” She grabbed his arm.
He could have shaken her off easily. But he stopped, staying in the seat.
“I really didn’t mean to come off all judgmental. I haven’t walked in your shoes so I’ve got no room to—”
Diego shushed her with a pointed look down at her hand on his arm.
Her fingers slid away.
He canted closer, hand returning to the back of her seat, a whisper away from her neck. “I meant it when I said I like your straight talk. You can feel free to tell me to go to hell when I get out of line and it won’t affect my report.”
He grazed one knuckle along the vulnerable curve of her neck, slowly, deliberately, his skin every bit as hot as she’d imagined. “But don’t ever, ever flash that damn little pity look my way again. Because if you do, I guarantee I’ll be kissing it off your face so thoroughly you won’t be able to think about anything except getting naked together. Understand?”
The fire in his skin and eyes dried her mouth until she could only nod.
Silently, he backed away and out of the car. He slammed the door shut, holding on to the open window for one final shot. “And in case you were wondering, I was definitely hitting on you that time. Next move’s yours, Buttercup.”
Chapter 5
Josie slammed her condo door.
She could allow herself that much emotional venting while no one was watching without worrying about negative reports and whispers of instability. Flicking on the light, she hooked her key ring on the rack by the door, a long silver mirror with a bin for mail and tiny hooks for keys and stray jewelry.
Now to fill the remaining hours so she would be tired enough to sleep once she fell into bed. Alone. She should probably log on to her computer and see if Tory had e-mailed her back about Shannon’s feature.
Josie ignored her reflection and walked deeper into her empty home, clicking on the television and popping in a DVD copy of videos of her mother’s old test flights. She had reviewed them all at least a couple dozen times each, and still she watched them over and over again like some people played their favorite albums. Her mother’s voice echoed from the speakers, calling directives from the ground to the pilot flying the test prototype. Cockpit views scrolled, mixed with other shots from the ground of the test in flight.
While the voices continued, pictures stared down from the walls, a hodgepodge collection of steel-framed photographs from her Athena Academy days—riding, archery, group shots and individuals spanning years from her first day at thirteen all the way to twelfth grade.
More pictures followed of college graduation, then her air force commissioning so long ago. Finishing college in three years had put her on a fast track in the air force that made for a solitary life now, creating boundaries with people her own age. At least at Athena, she’d been surrounded by overachievers like herself. Her classmate Alex had become a successful forensic scientist with the FBI. Tory was one of the hottest reporters on TV, also working as an intelligence courier for the government. And even after going through a teenage pregnancy, Kayla was already a lieutenant on the police force.
God, she missed her friends. Yet even if she had time to build new friendships, who could she be close to? People her own age worked below her. People at her career stage resented her for being younger.
Diego’s invitation to stay the night whispered through her mind. Not wise, being tempted by him.
Chewing orange-tryst gloss off her lips, Josie dropped into the curve of the white sectional sofa. She thumbed through the stacks of large green computer printouts from her mother’s testing days. She’d been going through the information after hours for months now—algorithms, configurations and data streams. There was so damned much of it, so many notes in her mother’s precise handwriting down the sides documenting every data drop, each sensor measurement. No one this meticulous screwed up, damn it.
Josie dropped the stack back on the glass coffee table. She swung a boot up on the edge and worked free the long black laces. A dog tag winked up from the right boot, a duplicate of the ID around her neck. The second was attached to the nearly indestructible combat boot so if her plane exploded, she could still be quickly identified amid the ashes.
Setting her boots on the floor one thud at a time, she peeled off her socks and wriggled her toes, pink toenails winking up at her. Her mind’s eye too easily conjured visions of Diego Morel once lacing and unlacing the same boots, not knowing what life held for him after the mission.
The hunger in his eyes when he’d talked about flying had almost leveled her. The profoundness of his feelings of loss made her question the depth of her calling to the sky.
She’d spent so long focused on clearing her mother’s name, she’d never considered life after. Was this what she wanted to do with her remaining years in the air force? Did she even want to stay in, or had she only joined to follow her parents’ legacy, since it offered the easiest way to right wrongs for Zoe Lockworth?
Josie sagged back on the sofa. Damn it, and damn Diego Morel. She couldn’t afford to doubt herself now. She was an excellent test pilot. She enjoyed the challenge of her job and the honor of wearing the uniform. And she wouldn’t allow some man with his hungry eyes to shake her resolve just because maybe she was feeling a little vulnerable tonight.
She unzipped her thigh pocket, reached in, brought out the tiny basset hound Beanie Baby. Craig’s daughter would receive the match already wrapped and ready, but this one, the toy Diego had tossed, was for her. Shoving up from the sofa’s embrace, she crossed to the wall of shelves. She placed the squishy dog inside the jammed nooks housing her Beanie collection, which kept her company along with the stereo and television.
Popping in a new DVD of tests, she watched static morph into flight images. Backing away, her bare feet padding along the carpet, she assessed the dog’s place between a birthday unicorn and camouflage bear her mother had given her. The thought of failing shook her more than any lomcevak maneuver ever could.
She had work to do.
Josie scooped up the closest stack of printouts, the familiar sight of her mother’s handwriting more than enough motivation to forgo half the night’s sleep.
“Hey fella,” she called over her shoulder to the basset hound addition on the way to the kitchen. “How about we celebrate your homecoming with some mac and cheese while I check over flight configurations from a couple of decades ago?”
Five days later, Josie cleared security to enter the remote control flight area, two leather