Then came the problem with Renshaw. Something was eating the young lieutenant, and she was too set on proving herself to the rest of the squadron to share. He hoped Renshaw would find a mentor in the unflappable Seabrook.
And he'd come close to accomplishing his most important task the past month—retracing the steps of Lance Sinclair's fatal flight. Zach knew in his gut something had gone wrong in the South American control tower.
With luck, the flight next week would prove just that, with the help of those who knew Lance Sinclair's flying habits best, those he crewed with most often—Tanner Bennett and Jim Price. Even Gray Clark had flown in with his family from Washington the night before to crew on the upcoming mission.
Only a week more and Zach could finally close that file once and for all.
Seabrook snapped the checklist shut and tucked it in her oversized black flight bag. "All clear."
"Roger, Captain." Zach nodded. "Renshaw, how about taking over and calling us into the parking area."
Thirty minutes later, he climbed into his truck. The past month, the sound of Julia's voice on the phone had left him so damned hard, no way would he torture himself with long-distance discussions of sex. They'd kept conversations superficial.
Until that last call when she'd ended with, I'm ready now.
She'd disconnected before he could answer, and he hadn't called back before takeoff. He needed to see her face to know she meant those words. Things would be complicated enough when they ended the marriage without adding another halted encounter to the mix.
Another divorce.
He stifled a curse.
One day at a time. And tonight, he had plans for his wife.
Zach pulled into the driveway, frowning over the strange car parked behind Julia's. The pizza guy maybe? If so, the pizza joint was paying big these days since the sedan looked new.
Zach sprinted for the steps, no detour to check out his bike. He wanted to see Julia.
Shoving open the door, he called, "Hey, gang, I'm home."
The kitchen gaped empty.
Where were the kids?
Julia stepped into view. "Hello, Zach."
Any other thoughts flew straight out of his head. Holy hell, the woman looked awesome.
Black velvet draped over her all the way to the floor and down long sleeves, in a regal way totally contradicted by the drop-dead-incredible flash of leg showing through the side slit.
Damned if beads of sweat didn't pop out on his forehead.
Her hair fluffed around her face in a mass of blond curls. Already he could imagine those spirals tousled from his hands plunging through while he made love to her.
Zach started toward her. "Jules, you look incredible."
Her stark expression stopped him before he finished his step or sentence. She cut her eyes toward the family room. He followed her gaze through the connecting dining area all the way to the sofa where Ivy sat with...
Her mother.
Anger simmered, roiled, threatened to fire free in a need to lash out before this woman hurt his children again. Her timing couldn't have sucked more, just when his girls finally had some stability.
One breath at a time, Zach regained control. His kids did not need to live with the memory of a scene. Rein it in and start the damage control. He wouldn't think about the past. And he definitely couldn't think about the woman standing beside him looking so hot she threatened to distract him from the mess in the making waiting on his couch.
Resolutely, he shut down everything inside him as fast as those engines on the runway.
"Hello, Pam."
Shelby glared at her mother sitting on the sofa gushing all over Ivy about their sleepover plans. Couldn't the woman give it a rest? She hadn't shut up since the Colonel had come home fifteen minutes ago.