Chapter 1

"Hunk alert! Hunk alert!"

Megan Bradshaw gritted her teeth at the sotto voce signal. Stephie, her man-crazy flying partner, reminded Megan of her twin sisters. She could tolerate the thirteen-year-olds' obsession--barely--but it ground on her nerves to be forced to work with a supposedly grown woman always on the prowl. She refused to pay attention to Stephie's often-repeated refrain.

They completed the meal service. Returning to the galley, Megan glanced at the man seated in 4B as she passed by. Their eyes locked for a brief moment. Her heart skipped a beat and the breath whooshed from her lungs.

He winked.

Megan's knees went weak. It was a good thing her hands gripped the cart handle. Gathering her wits, she continued pulling the cart to the front of the airplane.

"Have you ever seen such blue gorgeous eyes?" Stephie asked, as she emptied. the service items off the cart. "So dark, like brand new jeans. Those lashes must be an inch long."

Megan wasn't about to let on she agreed. She pulled a wad of bills from her apron pocket and began counting the cash from the sale of boxed breakfasts. "Whose eyes are you talking about?"

"The guy in uniform in 4B."

"I didn't notice," Megan fibbed. "You served him."

Stephie picked up a fresh coffee pot and shoved it at Megan. "Go check him out."

"Did I ever tell you remind me of my kid sisters?"

"Nope." Stephie grinned.

"Don't take it as a compliment. They're thirteen and boy crazy."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with noticing," she huffed, tossing her bleached hair over her shoulder. "I'm not planning to jump his bones."

"Don't tell me you wouldn't, given the opportunity. I've seen you in action."

Stephie bristled. "If you'd loosen up and have a little fun with the passengers, you wouldn't spend every night all by your lonesome self."

"Don't knock it. I'm not in danger of contracting a disease, breaking up a marriage or having my heart broken."

"One day, Miss Prudie, some guy is going to knock you for a loop. I hope I'm around to see it happen. You'd better pass through the cabin with that coffee one more time."

Megan grabbed a small tray with cream and sugar. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? She had no business lecturing Stephie. This wasn't the first month she'd flown with her and it wouldn't be the last. Heartland Air was too small a carrier and the turnover rate was low. But they didn't work together all the time, thank goodness. A little Stephie went a long way. They were just too different.

She stopped at row four. "More coffee?" Was that her voice, all breathy and sexy? Nah. Totally out of character. Everyone knew a person didn't hear their own voice as others did.

"May I have a glass of ice water?"

His baritone voice sent tingles up her spine. She looked him straight in the eyes. Oh, my. How can a simple look take my breath away? "Ah... Certainly--" She read the nametag Velcroed above his shirt pocket. "Mr. Fraser. I'll be back with it shortly."

No wedding ring she thought, as she continued pouring coffee.

As if that meant anything. Why should she care? She wasn't in the market for a boyfriend, much less a husband.

Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental had happened the moment Mr. Fraser stepped onboard.

The pot ran dry and she walked quickly back to the galley. "I got through aisle fifteen," she said to Stephie. "Would you please finish the coffee? I have a couple requests to take out."

"Sure," Stephie said, picking up a fresh pot.

Megan filled three glasses with ice and set them on a tray with a can of tomato juice, a Coke and a bottle of water. She walked back down the aisle and stopped at 4B. "Your water, sir," she said, forcing herself to speak in a business-like manner as she held out the glass.

Suddenly the plane lurched.

She pitched sideways. The glass slipped from her fingers. She grabbed the back of the seat. Everything on the tray slid into the passenger's lap.

Megan caught her balance. "Oh!" She reached over, picking the melting ice off his lap. "I'm so sorry."

"Not as good as a cold shower, but it'll do."

She jerked her hand back. Heat suffused her face. "Ah-- I'll get a som-something..."

Megan sped to the galley and grabbed a handful of paper towels. Dashing back to row four, she seized the cans and glasses from Mr. Fraser and practically threw the towels at him. "I'm really sorry," she repeated.

"Hey, no harm done." He mopped the water spots from his lap. His gaze caught hers, his eyes sparkling mischief.

That inexplicable feeling hit her again.

"It could've been hot coffee," he said.

She wanted to die on the spot. The ice was bad enough. But coffee? There? "Would you like my hair dryer? There's a plug in the lavatory."

"That's okay. I'll dry by the time we land. Besides" his grin wicked "no one will notice. The uniform camouflage hides a multitude of sins."

Her cheeks burned. "I'll get you another glass." She forced a smile and turned away. Why did that have to happen to the best-looking guy on the whole flight?

Fixing the tray again, she made her way down the aisle, serving the requested drinks. When she handed Mr. Fraser his glass, she kept moving. She continued strolling aft, checking on the passengers. Light flight today. Usually the Washington, DC/Omaha run was close to full. On the way back to the front, she picked up trash as she went.

"Ma'am," Mr. Fraser called as she came abreast of row four.

Not emotionally ready for another encounter, Megan stopped anyway. She was here to see to her passengers. It was her job. "Yes, sir."

"Are you familiar with Omaha?"

She nodded. "I'm based there."

"How long will it going take me to drive to Offutt Air Force Base?"

"Once you're on the road, about twenty-five minutes. That is if you take the freeway. If you go through downtown, it'll take a little longer." She paused, furrowing her brow, and glanced at the US Army tape on his uniform shirt. "You're in the Army?"

He nodded. "Corps of Engineers."

"Oh." She stopped and thought a moment. "You're the guys who control the rivers and dams."

"The Corps does, but that's not my job," he said, a closed off look in his eyes.

"If you don't mind my asking, why would someone in the Army be going to an Air Force base?"

"US Strategic Command is combined. They have people from all branches of the military assigned there."

"What do you do?"

He grinned. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"Oh, one of those." Her neighbor across the hall couldn't talk about his work either. Quickly, she changed the subject. "Still damp? The offer for the hair dryer is still open."

He patted a spot too close to his zipper for her comfort. "Not much. Don't worry about it."

"I still feel awful for dumping all that stuff on you."

"You couldn't help the bumpy air."

"Well, enjoy your stay in my fair city."

"Wish I could see some of it, but I'm going back tonight."

An attendant call button chimed. "Excuse me," Megan said. She moved down the aisle, grateful that duty called. This guy was way too attractive for her peace of mind.

* * * *

On her way to catch the shuttle to the employee parking lot at Omaha's Eppley Airfield, Megan walked past the car rental counter. Passenger 4B--Mr. Fraser--stepped away from the counter looking disgusted.

"Is something wrong? May I help?"

He glanced her way.

Her breath caught. This reaction had gotten old two hours ago.

"Hello again. I reserved a car but they overbooked. Everybody's sold out. I'll have to get a cab to the base."

"Don't do that. I'll take you." The words were out of her mouth before her brain shifted into gear. Whatever possessed her? Still, after drenching him in an ice bath, she owed him a good turn. "I live practically next door to the base. I'm heading home and can drop you off on the way."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. It's the least I can do after dumping ice all over you." Besides she needed to prove she could spend thirty minutes in his company and still breathe.

"I don't want to impose."

"No imposition," she insisted. Oh geez, did I say that?

"Well, if you really don't mind."

I mind all right but I can't back out now. "This way. My car's in employee parking."

Ten minutes later they were headed south.

"Which gate do you want, Mr. Fraser?" Megan asked as she pulled onto Abbott Drive. I still can't believe I'm doing this. The man's a perfect stranger. Yet she felt safe. Undoubtedly it was the uniform. After all, she'd learned in flight attendant training to go to a person in uniform for help if she had trouble on a flight.

"Please call me Duncan."

"Okay, Duncan, but only if you call me Megan. When you say ma'am, I look for my grandmother."

He opened his briefcase and checked a paper. "My instructions say to use the SAC gate and give directions to STRATCOM headquarters."

"I just thought of something. Can I get on the base?"

"As long as you're with an authorized person. You've never been there before?"

"Once. I went to a wedding reception at the Patriot Club. It was a real hassle while the guard checked everyone on the guest list."

"Mmm." Before Megan could say another word, he had his cell phone in his hand and placed a call. "This is Captain Fraser. I'm arriving in an unregistered POV. Could someone meet me at the SAC gate?" He turned to Megan. "How much longer will it take to get there?"

"Fifteen minutes."

Duncan repeated their ETA. "Got it." He ended the call.

"What's a POV? I'm driving a car."

He chuckled. "Military alphabet soup. It means privately owned vehicle. By the way, I really appreciate the lift. I hate cabs."

"Anything to keep the passengers happy."

He arched an eyebrow. "Anything?"

Megan's face grew hot. Why am I so stupid? Uniform or not, I don't know this guy from Adam. "I'm not offering coffee, tea or me."

"Too bad."

She shot a quick glance at him. "Heartland Air appreciates your business," she said, keeping her tone crisp.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist."

Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken, despite the teasing she heard in his voice, Megan changed the subject.. "Do you do a turn-around out here often?"

"A what?"

"Sorry--airline lingo. I mean coming out and going back the same day."

"It's my first trip in this job. I'm not sure yet how much I'll have to travel."

"I'm glad you're going back tonight." That sounded ungracious in the extreme. "Ah... The forecast is for snow tomorrow. You'll freeze without a coat."

He glanced at the clear sky. "It's a lovely spring day. Hard to believe snow's on the way."

"The weather can change in the blink of an eye out here. Some of the heaviest snow falls in March--even in April," she said. "Obviously, you're not a Midwesterner."

"Virginian, born and bred."

"That explains your accent. Not quite southern, but not northeast either."

"I can't place yours."

"I'm from California, but I've lived in the Midwest since I finished college." Megan gestured to a busy exit surrounded by shopping centers and restaurants. "This is Bellevue. We're almost there."

"The guys in the office said it was about twenty miles from the airport. In the DC area that's likely to be more than an hour's commute."

"Omaha traffic is nothing like DC's. I'm glad I don't have cope with it much. Washington is a great place to visit, but I'd rather not live there."

"I'm not crazy about the DC area either, but Uncle Sam says that's where I am for now. Of course, the powers that be can change their mind and order me elsewhere in a hurry."

"I'm sure your wife just loves the uncertainty," she said, tongue firmly tucked in her cheek.

"If I had a wife, she might complain. A lot of wives do, especially since we're at war."

"I can well imagine. I've seen the departures and reunions at any number of airports. It's got to be hard on families."

"It is. Those left behind support each other. The military is an extended family."

"That's good." Megan flipped on her turn signal, thinking how glad she was to have fifteen hundred plus miles between herself and her family. Exiting the Kennedy Freeway, she stopped at the light. "Where am I supposed to take you?"

"I'm being met at the Pass and Identification building. He said it's a right turn just before you get to the gate."

"Will you be able to get back to the airport okay?" She pulled into a small parking lot.

"I'll bum a ride with someone. Thanks for the lift. I really appreciate it." He stuck out his hand. "Nice meeting you, Megan."

"Happy to help. Nice meeting you, too." Nice but scary, her confused heart said. Stupid as it sounded, she hated to see him go. "Have a good trip home."

Duncan got out of the car and strode toward the brick building.

It took a moment for Megan to figure out she didn't have to negotiate the barriers that slowed traffic entering and exiting the base. The airlines weren't the only ones that had undergone extensive security upgrades since 9/11.

* * * *

"Dunc! Over here!"

He turned to the voice. "Marty! You old son-of-gun. Whatcha doing here?"

"Picking you up."

"Man, it's been forever," Duncan said, clapping his old college friend on the back. "How are you?"

"Can't complain."

They climbed in a SUV. "Don't need to ask how you are," Marty said. "Your chauffeur was a gorgeous babe."

"Leave it to an intel weanie to notice. She didn't get out of the car."

Marty pulled into the traffic lane to enter the base. He stopped at the guard shack and showed his ID card. "So give. Who is she?"

"A flight attendant I met coming out."

"Flight attendant! Man, you have all the luck. The only attendants on my flights are old enough to be my mom."

"For all I know she's married with kids. It was no big deal. She was making nice after she spilled ice and drink cans all over me."

Marty raised an eyebrow. "The plot thickens."

"No plot to thicken. I don't even know her last name."

Marty turned into the parking lot and swiped his card at the security checkpoint. The arms rose. "All this security is a royal pain in the butt."

"Our world has changed, my friend," Duncan said. "You think this is bad? Try Washington."

Marty parked the car and they headed to a side entrance of the tan brick headquarters. "Have to get your visitor's badge in here."

They entered the building and were greeted with a large sign warning everyone to turn cell phones off or remove the batteries. Duncan reached for the phone clipped to his pocket. It wasn't there. What the...?

They stepped to the window and he filled out paperwork. While he waited for the badge, he checked his briefcase. No phone. "I must've left my cell in Megan's car."

"You can call her from the office," Marty said.

"I didn't get her number." They moved at a brisk pace through what seemed like endless hallways. "I'll call the cell. Maybe she'll answer."

"No last name, no number. Man, you're slipping. What happened to the guy with the thickest black book on the Virginia Military Institute campus?"

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