"This is a critical time for you."
"Right."
"You don't need distractions."
"You said it." With those legs wrapped around his waist, he would definitely be distracted.
"And neither do I."
"I don't even like sunflower seeds." Liar. He liked the taste just fine on her lips.
"Well then." Her grin lit her face as well as her eyes. "You're history, pal."
Her feet danced back inches from stepping off the path into a tangle of vines.
"Watch out!" Max grabbed her shoulders, soft shoulders in spite of all the toned muscle flexing beneath his touch. His thumbs stroked of their own volition.
They both stood, the plush ground giving beneath their feet like a feather bed. Her pupils widened. The humidity in the air upped, at least it must have since every breath felt thicker. Their newfound ease evaporated in a snap.
Damn.
A great big distraction and her legs weren't anywhere near his waist.
Darcy licked the drop from her lips. "I need to go."
Bugs hummed in the trees as neither of them moved. A foot-long lizard scuttled past.
She opened her mouth again as if to say something else, then shook her head, shrugging from under his hands. "Goodbye, Max."
"Good night," he answered to her retreating back, wondering why he couldn't let her just keep walking right on out of his life. She wasn't his responsibility, especially not since he'd just assigned Lurch to tail her. Besides, she could protect herself with the training she'd received, compliments of Uncle Sam. Darcy Renshaw did not need Max's protection.
Darcy jogged up the path, her flexing calves offering a too-enticing view. He allowed himself the pleasure of watching until she slipped around a thatch of trees and out of sight.
She might not need him, but that wouldn't stop him from checking. Max swacked a branch aside and headed back for the beach. Darcy couldn't run far enough for his peace of mind on a water-locked island where too many vermin scuttled under every rock.
Reaching into her flight bag, Darcy searched by touch for her lunch during their final approach to Guam. The past week of hauling everything from bulldozers to food rations into Taiwan had left her with little time for sleeping. Forget about regular meals.
Worse yet, today's mission off-loading medical supplies had been too turbulence-ridden for her to scarf down even a sandwich. She planned to make the most of the ten minutes before transition, touch-and-go landings.
Darcy fished out an apple and polished it on the leg of her flight suit. Max had been right. They were both too busy to breathe, much less indulge in a wild, fantasy-worthy fling on a sandy beach.
If only she didn't feel his eyes on her every time she turned around.
Yanking her mind back to work, Darcy finished punching in the landing coordinate data into the C-17's computerized instrument panel. Her job was too important to her to risk it for anyone, no matter how hot or interesting. She lived to fly. She thrived on making a difference, and while today's mission might not have been Cantou-kick-butt material, she'd made her mark. She didn't know any other way of life.
Darcy pressed the interphone button to check in with the aircraft commander in the left seat. "Landing calculations complete," she reported, crunching a bite of her apple.
The plane bucked. She grabbed for her green military bag as it slid toward the floor. "Hey, Crusty, how about giving me heads-up next time you opt for acrobatics."
"No problem," Daniel Baker slid a finger under the earpiece of his headset. "If you'll warn me before you blow out my eardrum crunching your lunch. Or better yet, let's go to hot mike so I can hear every bite."
Laughing, Darcy pitched a wadded napkin at him. "Bite this, sir."
"They sure breed copilots mouthy these days."
"I try my best." Darcy flipped the microphone to the side while she finished her apple.
The plane flying wingman eased into view, high and to the right. Bronco manned the helm, flashing a thumbs-up just before the headset crackled with his voice. "Way to pound through the skies. Did Crusty just take over the controls?"