Her Perfect Stranger

She couldn't find him. She couldn't find any of her team. As a last resort, she hunted down Ed, one of the administrative assistants.

'They're out to dinner,' he said.

'They?'

'Your team.'

Was that pity in his eyes? It was hard to tell, as he vanished as soon as he'd answered, reminding her that most of the assistants lived in terror of her.

For no real reason, she told herself. Yes, she was usually in a hurry. And maybe sometimes she could be…well, abrupt. It wasn't anything personal, though.

But her team going off without her, now that, she was pretty certain, was personal.

No biggie. She didn't want to eat with them, anyway.

Much. Besides, she had work to do.

She stayed late to prove it, but she knew damn well a small part of her was wondering if any of them would come back after dinner to see how she was doing.

Ah, geez. Pathetic. She hated that she'd been reduced to thinking such nonsense.

Get over it and move on.

That night she lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The mission was far from her mind, which was otherwise occupied by a tall, leanly muscled, beautiful man who, when he smiled could talk her into jumping off a cliff.

Maybe he'd be waiting to pounce on her in the hallway, she thought at midnight, leaping to her feet, her heart racing in anticipation. But as she made her way to the bathroom, as slowly and loudly as she dared, no one grabbed her. Not then, and not when she came out.

She was alone, truly alone, just as she'd always wanted to be.

Before he knew it, their week at Marshall Space Flight Center was over. Mike and the rest of the team were leaving for Houston and the Johnson Space Center, where they would remain in training until mission launch at Kennedy Space Center, Florida.

There was much left to be done. At Johnson Space Center, each of them would be run through their paces. Over and over again. Loading. Unloading. Constructing. Repairing. Reconstructing. Takeoff. Landing. Going through each possible scenario, and just when they thought they were close to done, they'd be ordered to do it again.

NASA took it all very seriously. Having had painful, painful failures in the past, mistakes that had cost billions, not to mention the taxpayers faith, they didn't care to repeat any of those mistakes.

Mike understood this all too well, and still he loved his job. He loved everything except the fact he was working for a woman he wanted to kiss stupid, and he couldn't quite get that out of his head.

He planned to travel to Houston the way he'd traveled to Huntsville, piloting himself in his honey of a plane, which he'd rebuilt himself.

Frank had also flown himself into Marshall, so he flew himself out. But Stephen and Jimmy jumped at Mike's offer to come along with him.

And to his shock, so did Corrine.

She appeared on the tarmac, her bag on her shoulder. 'You have room for one more?'

'Absolutely.' At the sudden, awkward silence, Mike glanced at Stephen and Jimmy, both of whom shrugged noncommittally. Their faces had been wiped clear of the laughter they'd just been sharing over some obscene joke, but even they were professional enough not to quibble if their commander wanted to horn in on their ride.

With Stephen and Jimmy preoccupied admiring Mike's work on the Lear, Corrine moved close. 'I wanted to talk to you.'

'You've said that before.' Mike lifted a brow. 'And haven't really meant it.'

Shifting from one foot to the other, she let out a half laugh, and he realized with some shock that she was nervous. Corrine never looked nervous, and his curiosity twitched. She seemed so put together in her business suit, revealing none of her lush curves and warm softness. He remembered both so well that her armor didn't matter, and his curiosity wasn't the only thing that twitched.

Damn her anyway, for standing there killing him, for being so heart-wrenchingly beautiful. 'Talk away then,' he said with far more lightness than he felt.

'Okay, good. Thanks.' She set down her bag. 'You've been avoiding me.'

Yes, he had. Self-preservation. But damned if he was going to tell her that. Mike Wright avoided no one. 'How is that possible? We've been working side by side for over a week now.'

A breeze blew over them, but Corrine had her hair tightly back and beaten into submission. Not a strand moved, not as it had that night they'd been together, when her mane of hair had flowed over his hot flesh, teasing him with its silky scent.

'Yes, we worked together,' she agreed. 'But we haven't…'

It was wrong to pretend he had no idea what she was trying to say-wrong, but ever so satisfying. 'Yes?' he coaxed. 'We haven't…?'

She let out a huff of breath. 'You know. Talked. Or…'

Even more satisfying was her blush. 'Are you referring to our hot, wet, long kisses? Or the hot, wet fun we had in my hotel room?'

Her eyes darkened. Her mouth turned grim.

'It was a mistake to bring this up. I'm sorry.' She went to step past him and into the plane, but he stopped her.

'It was wrong,' he said in a harsh whisper. 'Because you don't really want to talk about it. You want to forget it ever happened. You're ashamed-'

'No.' She put a hand to his chest, deflating his sudden anger with just one touch. 'I'm not ashamed. That's what I wanted to tell you. I'm sorry I let you think it.'

For a moment, she actually let him see inside her, past the aloofness and into the woman he'd held so closely that night. It gave him a funny ache in his chest. 'Why do you do that?' he whispered, unable to help himself from stroking her arm. 'Why do you let them think of you as the Ice Queen? I know you're not.'

Her eyes widened; her mouth opened, then carefully shut. 'What?'

His stomach fell. 'Nothing.' God, she didn't know what they called her. 'Nothing at all.'

'What?' she finally said again, very, very softly. 'What did you say they call me?'

His fault, that devastating, stricken look in her eyes, and though she managed to hide it with amazing speed and grace, he couldn't have felt worse. 'Corrine-'

'Never mind.' She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin high. 'No need for me to be insulted when it's the truth.'

'Wait…'

'No, let's not. We have a meeting this afternoon and need to hustle.'

'Yes, but-'

'You going to fly this baby or what?' she snapped, stepping aboard. She nodded curtly to the others, without an outward sign that she'd just been brought to her knees.

'Final inspection complete?' she asked Mike when he slid into the pilot's seat.

'Done. Corrine-'

'Don't.' Sitting there next to him in the cockpit, as if she belonged there, she proceeded to grab his clipboard and start the preflight check.

He grabbed it back. 'I've got it.'

She picked up his headphones and would have put them on, but in his plane, he was in charge. He took those from her as well.

'Route?' She ran her hands over the controls.

'I know how to get us there.' He brushed her fingers away from the instrument panel

She shot him a look of annoyance. 'Then do it.'

He ignored the tone of that remark, because he understood she was hurt. But with her obnoxious, controlling attitude, he was damn close to forgetting how lush and warm and giving she could be.

He didn't like it.