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Bronco eased back his chair, a big-brother concern glinting in his eyes she recognized too well. “What’s got your G-suit in a knot today, Renshaw?”
Nuh-uh. She wasn’t answering that one. Her feelings were her own. Always had been since the terrorist raid on her childhood overseas home.
Time to launch this flight and bring her closer to launching her life, as well. She rolled her chair away from the table. “I’m going to find out what’s keeping Keagan so we can get this mission off the ground.”
Footsteps sounded from the hall, stalling Darcy half standing. The door swung open, voices swelling through as three men strode in, two in naval khaki uniforms, one in creased pants and a bow tie.
Ah, the professor.
Just as Darcy started to look away, another man strolled through the doorway. One glimpse at him and she lost all interest in studying flight data scrawled on the dry erase board.
Holy marine mammal, the guy was hot.
Six foot two, three maybe. Early thirties? Given his laid-back air and casual clothes, perhaps he was the graduate assistant accompanying the professor on the flight. A graduate assistant who looked as if he spent all his after-school hours on a surfboard.
Sandy-brown hair spiked from his head, like from a day in the salty ocean. The damp disarray could have been styled deliberately, but somehow she didn’t think so. His five-o’-clock shadow at 8:00 a.m. hinted his only comb might be fingers tunneling through sun-kissed hair.
A sea-foam-colored windbreaker was zipped halfway up his broad chest. The banded waist grazed the top of his low-riding drawstring swim trunks covered in flowers. Loud tangerine and purple blooms blazoned from faded nylon hitting right around knee-length, obliterating her earlier frustration in a Technicolor sensory tidal wave.
After hanging out in an almost exclusively male world all her life, she wasn’t often rattled by a man’s physical appearance. So why were her fingers itching to comb through this guy’s hair?
The senior Navy officer paused beside the dry erase board. “Sorry for the delay. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce Dr. Maxwell Keagan, head of Marine Mammal Communications at the University of San Diego. And his research assistant, Perry Griffin. Now that they’ve arrived, I’ll set up the computer and projector while you introduce yourselves.” The officer turned to the two civilians. “Dr. Keagan, we’ll be ready for your brief in about five minutes.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
Huh?
Dr. Keagan’s answer hadn’t come from Mr. Bow Tie, but from the surfboarder dude with incredible pecs and horrid fashion sense. Darcy dropped into her seat with more force than a botched parasail landing. She blinked, stared again.
Sure enough those tropical-flower-clad hips were advancing toward her end of the table for an introduction. Not Mr. Bow Tie. That guy was crawling along the floorboards searching for an outlet for the computer like an eager-to-please research assistant.
Surfboarder dude extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Dr. Max Keagan.”
A beach bum with a brain. Fantasies didn’t come any better.
“Hello, Doctor.” Standing, she transferred her sunflower seeds to her left hand and extended her right. “Lieutenant Darcy Renshaw.”
His callused fingers enfolded hers, his scent chasing right up the link to blanket her with intoxicating potency. Coconut oil, salty air and a hint of musk wafted from him, like a piña colada after leisurely, sweaty lovemaking on the beach.
If she’d ever had such a moment.
For a crazy, impulsive second, Darcy wondered what it would be like to make that memory—with this guy. A shiver whispered through her that had nothing to do with thewhooshof the air conditioner.
Did she see an answering attraction in his blue-green eyes? Maybe the slightest narrowing of his gaze to one of those sleepy-lidded assessments she’d seen her eight kazillion pseudo big brothers give other women when—
Bronco cleared his throat just before the chair behind Darcy jarred the back of her knees. Did the big guy have to kick it so hard? Be so obvious in pointing out she was still clasping Max Keagan’s fingers?
Darcy jerked her hand away and glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, the pilots stood side by side, a mismatched Mutt and Jeff with identical smirks. They would pick on her all the way across the Pacific.
She willed herself not to blush. Salvaging what she could of her pride and professionalism, Darcy pulled to attention. “Dr. Keagan, a pleasure to meet you.”
Pleasure? She stifled a groan at her word choice.
Bronco snorted.
Forget salvaging squat. She turned on her boot heel toward the aircraft commander. “With all due respect, sir, I’m going to roll you off the load ramp right after we cross into international airspace.”
Bronco raised his hands, easing back.
