Twenty-five years of virginity, of overprotective relatives, of being everybody's pal and never the object of those sleepy-lidded stares, weighed her down like a seventy-pound survival pack ready to be shed after a marathon trek. She was tired of being slotted into safer roles.
Why wait until after this mission to go for what she wanted? Here was a big, hunky risk ready for the taking.
And she could have that risk without breaking her personal rule. No military men. No men like her father, government protectors by training, trade and blood.
Before she lost her nerve, Darcy extended her fist toward Max. Her fingers unfurled to reveal a now-steady palm full of sunflower seeds. "Want some?"
Max stared at that slim hand, up to Darcy Renshaw's wrist where a pulse double-timed in a fragile vein.
He wanted a lot more than sunflower seeds from the leggy dynamo seated beside him. Her flight suit and take-no-lip attitude assured him she could probably down the average man in five different ways. One helluva woman, no doubt.
Not that he intended to act on the impulse to accept that challenge. Following impulses could get even the best of CIA officers killed.
Or worse yet, someone else.
"Thanks. But I'll pass."
A flicker of disappointment chased through her amber-brown eyes. Followed by an impish flash of determination.
Well, damn. Flattering, sure, but her timing stunk. He couldn't afford distractions, not now when eighteen months of deep cover was about to pay off.
Finally he would discover the traitor who'd sold out Eva two and a half years ago.
Captain Baker's arm shot past toward the seeds. "I'll take 'em, Wren."
She blasted him with an exasperated eye roll. "Crusty, do you ever get full?"
"Nope. My jaws just get tired of chewing." The wiry relief pilot grinned.
The other pilot added his nod of agreement.
In need of mental distancing from the leggy distraction beside him, Max studied the three bickering crew members who would fly him across the Pacific. He slid into work mode with determined focus, mentally merging the real people with the profiles from his intelligence briefing.
Captain Tanner "Bronco" Bennett. Air Force Academy grad who'd turned down a seven-figure pro-football contract to serve his country. Combat vet. Trustworthy, team player down the line.
A dry smile tugged at Max. His father would have given his favorite fishing pole to have a son like that.
Too bad, old man. You got me.
Max shifted to the next pilot. Captain Daniel "Crusty" Baker. That rumpled flight suit housed a razor-sharp liaison to the Air Force's Office of Special Investigations. A dark-ops test pilot with a penchant for junk food — and the only one on the crew who knew Max's real mission. As much as Max chafed at checking in with anyone, he accepted the military intel contact as necessary if he wanted this operation. And he did. Badly.
He allowed his gaze to stray to the last flyer. The one he'd forced himself not to assess first simply because he wanted to look at her too much.
First Lieutenant Darcy "Wren" Renshaw. Military brat with an impressive Air Force family tree. Top graduate out of ROTC and pilot training. And Papa's pampered princess, slotted as a last-minute sub on a primo mission.
Max let his gaze linger.
Darcy shot repeated comebacks to her crew while scooping a hand into her thigh pocket. He had to admit. Those were great thighs attached to her sleek body.
She tugged out her blue military hat, then dug deeper. As she reached, he studied the back of her head, the silky cap of short brown hair.
No, wait. Brown wasn't the exact color and details were important in his job. Right?
He looked again, resisting the urge to test the texture with his fingers. Cinnamon, maybe? Like the stuff a neighbor lady of his used to sprinkle on golden-brown cookies warm from the oven.
Darcy whipped out another bag of sunflower seeds and pitched them across the room, catching Crusty Baker square in the chest. "That's it, Baker. No more mooching or I'll tell the flight kitchen to fill your lunch with raw eggs."
She turned her back on the two pilots, her full attention on Max. "Must be pretty cool wearing a swimsuit to work."