Red Tail

“Let’s go up to the officer’s mess,” Bram suggested.

She grimaced, giving him a sidelong glance. “We could grab something from the vending machine. It’s quicker.”

Again Bram gave her that infuriating smile that threatened to make her blush. “Because I want to sit back and relax a little, Lieutenant Travis. Or are you going to give me an argument on that too?”

Her gray eyes narrowed. “No argument, Lieutenant Gallagher,” she informed him lightly. Why did she have the feeling he was stalking her?

Stuffing her cap into one the pockets of her flight suit, she walked through the doors of the officer’s mess. They stood out in their olive-green flight suits among the other officers who were dressed in dark blue serge pants and light blue short-sleeve shirts. Storm bridled when she saw Kyle Armstrong and his copilot grinning up at her when they entered. She felt like she had to explain why they were over here and then decided to hell with it. Let them think what they wanted. They went through the cafeteria line, and Storm found a couple of chairs at an empty table to give them some privacy from prying eyes.

Bram sat opposite her, his tray filled. He gave a glance at hers.

“You’re not eating much,” he noted, pointing disapprovingly at the soup and salad.

Storm ran her fingers through her hair, wishing she had a brush right now. She knew her hair probably looked flattened against her skull after wearing the helmet. And then she laughed at herself—why, all of a sudden, did she worry about how her hair looked? She hadn’t before. She met Gallagher’s concerned gaze.

“I like staying at one hundred and thirty pounds, that’s why. Don’t start picking on my eating habits too,” she said gruffly, picking up her fork.

His smile was devastating as he paid attention to his plate heaped with slices of hot roast beef. “Am I picking on you?”

“You know you are.”

“My, my, aren’t we touchy. Are you like this every day?”

“For your benefit, yes.”

“My benefit?”

Storm glared up at him. She felt giddy and happy—but why? It was him. Damn! “Yes, yours. And don’t give me that innocent look, Gallagher. You know what I’m talking about. We’re not boy meets girl. We’re adults. And I can see you coming from ten miles away.”

He nodded, chewing thoughtfully in the silence afterward, his blue eyes dancing with laughter. “Want to play twenty questions with me?”

Storm gave him a black look. “No.”

“What are you hiding from?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“Because, lieutenant, you seem to feel it’s your right to know me on a personal level.”

He gave her a guarded look, continuing to eat. “I think that’s fair. After all, we’re going to be working together for at least a year.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Bram grinned, knowing she didn’t mean it. He saw the confusion and fear in her eyes and suddenly realized that something must have occurred in her personal life to make her so wary. “Okay,” he said, easing up on her, “I’ll can my twenty questions. Just answer two for me, will you?”

“Two?”

He held up two fingers. “Yeah, two.”

She frowned. “I can count, Gallagher, and you don’t need to hold up your fingers so everybody can see you.”

So, that was it. Bram looked around, noticing a couple of the pilots and watching them with great interest. His face softened and he dropped his hand. “Looks like there’s more than a little interest in you and me by your protective friends.”

Uncomfortable and yet relieved that he understood, Storm blotted her lips with the napkin. He wasn’t as insensitive as she had first thought. “They’re worse than women when it comes to me,” she admitted unhappily. Kyle Armstrong would tease her mercilessly tonight when they all got together at the Q or alert quarters.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “What is this, reverse discrimination? Men being protective about you and on guard toward me?”

Storm shrugged. She didn’t want to tell him that Armstrong and the rest of the guys wanted to see her married again. They were forever trying to fix her up with some eligible bachelor. Their hearts were in the right place, but it was embarrassing. “They mean well,” she told him. “They’re like brothers, you know? Sometimes they get in your hair and become an irritation.”

Bram nodded. That was good to know—she treated them like brothers, not lovers. “Well,” he informed her softly, his voice a vibrating growl, “don’t even begin to look at or treat me like a brother, lieutenant.”

She toyed with the salad, her pulse skyrocketing. “Don’t worry, Gallagher, I’ll never make that mistake with you.”

His mouth drew into a grin. “Good. I’m glad we finally agree on something.”

Storm gave him a warning glare. “I agree with you on very little, Gallagher.”

“That’ll change,” he informed her darkly.

“I doubt it.”

* * *

Storm didn’t want to go inside the Q, which stood outside the ramp and hangar area. Four days had flown by and they were on alert again. It was almost 2100 when she walked outside, heading toward the quiet ramp where the readied helos and Falcon jets sat waiting for the next SAR call. Hands thrust deep in her pockets, she watched the apricot color of the sunset deepening. The colors were spectacular; she had come to love dusk in Florida. Tonight there were a few threatening clouds, mostly towering cumuli, rising like castle turrets in the distance. That meant a few isolated thunderstorms later over the ocean. Bowing her head, she walked slowly along the ramp area, away from the hangar, lost in the world of changing colors that painted the sky. It was lovely, and finally she halted, lost in the display.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” came Bram’s voice from behind her.

She turned her head slightly, watching him quietly walk up to her shoulder and halt. The peacefulness of the sunset muted all her suspicions as she saw awe written across his features. He was just as moved as she was. A small smile curved her lips.

“This is my favorite time of day,” she confided softly, returning her attention to the sky.

“Mine too. That and dawn. I like to see the colors on the horizon. Best time to fly.”

She felt totally at ease with Bram. Four days had worked miracles in dispelling their initial distrust of each other. There was a tender look in his eyes right now. Storm liked the feeling swirling and building quietly between them, a sharing of something far greater than themselves. The apricot hue deepened to an incredible orange that grew paler as it reached toward the darkening cobalt sky.

Bram glanced down at Storm. Her profile was clean, and her skin had a glow to it. There was a faraway look on her face now, and he longed to reach out and touch her. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes wide, as she continued to watch the spectacle. They stood in silence another ten minutes before he spoke.

“I’ve been trying to find some time today to talk with you alone, Storm,” he said, turning toward her.

Her heart catapulted as he called her by her first name. It rolled off his tongue like a caress, and she responded effortlessly to the tone in his voice. But she also heard the seriousness of it and faced him, a mere twelve inches separating them. Looking guilelessly up into his features, she searched his darkened blue eyes.

“About what?”

“You don’t play games, do you?”

Her brows drew downward. “Games? No. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”