Gray braced a hand on the console and crowded Bronco. "And why don't you—"
"Problem, boys?"
Gray pushed away from the panel. Lt. Col. Zach Dawson hovered in the doorway. The squadron commander, the boss, he would be monitoring the mission as well as serving as the other relief pilot for the overseas flight. The last thing Gray wanted was his private life or lack of one, unrolled for the commander's viewing pleasure during the mission.
Nothing could ground a flyer faster than hints of instability in his home life. A military brat himself, he knew the mantra well. Don't air your dirty laundry in public, son.
He should have held his temper in check and confronted Bronco later. Too late for what-ifs. Gray smoothed his face into an easygoing grin. "No problem, sir."
"You sure?"
Gray slapped Bronco on the shoulder, his smile hitching higher. "Nothing I can't take care of during his next flight physical. You're on the schedule for later this week, aren't you, pal?"
Bronco paled. Lancelot chuckled and stuffed another cookie in his mouth.
"Then let's get this plane off the ground." Lt. Col. Zach Dawson settled into the seat behind the pilot, while Lancelot shoved aside his Ziploc bag.
Gray strapped himself into the other seat behind the copilot and slipped on his headset, grateful for the chance to lose himself in the routine. Routine had carried him through countless Desert Storm missions when he'd been the primary pilot, before he'd gone back to medical school. He could depend on it now, as well.
In a timeless military fashion, disjointed voices wafted through the headset. Checklists from pilots in front and loadmasters in back. A few more minutes and they'd be in the air. Already the escape of flight lured Gray.
Bronco was right. If there wasn't anything left with Lori, being on the mission didn't matter anyway. A thirty-seven-year-old bachelor, he had his life plan set.
He and Lori would spend a few hours together, travel memory lane and move on.
Bronco flashed a thumbs-up. "Checklist complete."
The engine drone built, swelled, vibrating the plane to life. Gray watched Lancelot grip the stick. As skillfully as a kid with a video-game joystick, he eased the throttle forward. No yoke for the C-17 Globemaster III, the mammoth cargo aircraft possessed the same stick and grace of a fighter plane. Smooth as a baby's butt, it rolled forward.
Gray wanted in the pilot's seat, to be in control, but he would get his turn in the cockpit as well as with the patients. He could wait. A small price to pay for having it all.
Having it all?
His thoughts winged back to the woman waiting strapped into one of the red, webbed seats in back. Was she nervous, elegant hands trembling? Or excited, her eyes glittering topaz? With seasoned determination he reeled his thoughts right back into the cockpit.
Forget Lancelot's home-baked cookies and Bronco's psychobabble garbage about Lori only bothering him if she still meant something to him. Gray had created the perfect life for himself where no one would get hurt.
The aircraft picked up speed, roaring down the runway. The copilot's voice rumbled over the headset. "One hundred forty knots."
"Committed to take off," the pilot acknowledged.
Committed. Damn. Even the word beaded Gray with sweat. With his messed-up past, who could blame him? Lori was better off without him.
The nose lifted off the runway.
Committed. To spending the next thirty hours learning how to forget Lori Rutledge once and for all.
Chapter 2
Lori gave up trying to forget about Gray. No way could she dodge thoughts of him while stuck in the middle of this military mission. She couldn't even manage to escape through sleep for more than an hour or two.
After thirteen hours in the air, the plane descended to the antiquated landing strip outside Sentavo. Her stomach lurched in synch. Was Gray piloting? Or one of the others?
She let memories steamroll over her. Not that she seemed to have a choice today.
Memories of meeting Gray through a mutual friend and then dancing for half the night, both knowing that someday they wouldn't go home alone.
Gray singing hokey Karaoke love songs at the Officer's Club, his husky voice growling out the lyrics. Definitely a stylist, not an artist. But so doggone charming.