Lindsay McKenna - Mission - Christmas

Giving him a grin, Dallas settled her helmet on her head, strapped in and shut and locked the door. “Yeah, must be my Israeli blood showing. Israel is nothing but desert.”

Mike handed her the preflight checklist and they quickly went through it. Everything was in order. When he took the list back from her, their fingertips met. Murdoch relished the chance to touch Dallas. Ever since he’d grabbed her on the tarmac and she’d thrown him to the ground with her krav maga techniques, he’d been both wary of and fascinated by her. It had taken two months for them to adjust to one another. They worked well together, like a team. But Mike couldn’t help wishing for more contact. For now, he pushed the thought from his mind.

Dallas was pilot today. Since her first confrontation with Murdoch, he had cleaned up his act. He’d never again come on the tarmac drunk. He’d even stopped his hard drinking and partying in Nogales.

Dallas watched Scotty give her the signal, then she started up the engine. The Cessna coughed and sputtered.

“Even the plane is cold today,” she remarked, listening to the motor catch and take hold. The prop whirled, and she eased off the rudders, letting the craft trundle to the end of its short runway, then turn around, ready for takeoff. Dallas paused there, waiting for a sudden rain shower to pass.

“Every plane has a personality,” Mike agreed. “You want some coffee after we get airborne?”

“You bet.”

He’d come to enjoy their intimate patter, their chance to be alone in the air. On the ground, Dallas was in charge. He couldn’t be caught using such familiarity. But here in the air, their professionalism facade dissolved and they’d become like best buddies. Mike wanted more, but she seemed immune to his subtle suggestions. He’d sometimes touch her shoulder when they were teasing one another, or he’d crack a joke, and she’d laugh huskily in return. Whenever his fingers met hers, a pleasant ribbon of warmth flowed up his hand and arm.

The Cessna rolled down the runway after the squall had moved by. The aftermath of a hurricane that had started in Mexico on the Pacific side was making the skies dicey. In Arizona, the storm had already been downgraded to a low frontal system.

Once they leveled off at three thousand feet, the air was much less turbulent. Murdoch pulled out the large metal thermos from the net pocket, quickly poured Dallas half a cup of steaming black coffee and handed it to her. Another chance to touch the beautiful, remote Dallas Klein.

“Thanks,” she said, gripping the metal cup. The warmth felt good to her fingers.

Mike dug into his net pouch for a second cup and poured himself some. Today, they were headed deep into Mexico, to Hermosillo. Mexican federales had located a secret airstrip outside the beautiful city, and the two of them were going to investigate. With a fading hurricane in the vicinity, rain would be falling off and on all day. It would do no good to hunt bad guys along the border because they would be grounded by the weather. Dallas had predicted that, and Mike agreed with her. The druggie action would come after the hurricane moved north. Right now, central Mexico enjoyed sunshine and clear blue skies, just the ticket for druggies to climb into their Cessna Stationairs, and Dallas hoped to intercept them. It was a solid tactical plan.

“Hey, how come I never see you with a dude?” Mike asked, keeping his tone light and bantering. Dallas grimaced and took another sip of her coffee. He had tried all kinds of ways to find out about the enigmatic woman’s personal life but had failed. Yet was he really ready to hear she was in a relationship?

“Murdoch, you’re a terrible tease.”

Shrugging, he said, “Hey, you’re not exactly an open book, you know. I’m just trying to find out if you have a relationship right now.”

Chuckling, Dallas said, “My parents work for the Mossad. Did you expect me to be an open book? I grew up with two spies. They taught me well.” She flashed him a grin.

Undeterred, Mike drawled, “Okay, fair enough, but I’m the guy that has your six. Can’t you level with me?”

With a quizzical glance, she retorted, “Is it safe? You know, the first month you were a snarly dude. I was afraid you were going to bite my hand off.”

Mike snorted. He couldn’t help watching those luscious lips, curving sweetly upward in the corners. If he confided to Dallas he dreamed of her almost nightly, and mention what they did together in his dreams, she’d blush crimson and probably retreat even deeper into herself. “Listen, you’re my X.O., and keeping things professional and detached are fine at the BP station. But this is me. I’ve changed. You can see that. You were right—I was snarly because of my divorce.” He frowned. “And losing Randy, my partner.” Dallas gave him a sympathetic look. “But stop feeling sorry for me, okay? I’d really like to know you personally.”

“Hmm,” Dallas murmured. “Why?”

“Because you’re single, as far as I know, damn good-looking, and I’m a single guy myself.” There, the truth was out. Mike wondered how she was going to handle it. Might as well find out.

Dallas finished her coffee and handed the cup back. “First of all, I am single. And no, I don’t have a steady guy in my life right now.”

“You used to?”

“Yes, back in Cuzco. He was a Peruvian medical doctor.” Dallas shrugged. “Things got complicated. I was in a black ops, and he was a renowned heart surgeon. Between our two schedules, we rarely saw one another, and even then, if I got called back to BJS for an emergency, I was gone. His family put a lot of pressure on him to drop me, and eventually, he did.”

“Families can do that,” Mike agreed. He felt elated she was sharing with him. “Now, my family is very laid-back. I’m the oldest, with two younger sisters, Julie and JoAnn.”

“Laid-back. Hmm. Like you, right?” Dallas chuckled.

Mike smiled back and scanned the gray sky and scudding clouds. Rain splattered across the cockpit window, but less and less frequently the farther south they flew. “I’m laid-back, too.”

“Oh, right. Mr. Intense. You lock on to a druggie through your binoculars, and you’re like a laser-fired rocket.” She laughed wryly. “Give me a break, Murdoch. You’re the least laid-back dude I’ve ever known, a bloodhound on a scent!”

“So, you don’t like intense dudes? They’re a turnoff? A surgeon isn’t exactly a laid-back sort, either. They are well known type A personalities.”

A smile lurked on her lips. “Murdoch, you’re fishing. What’s this all about?”

“Well…” he sighed, sitting back, sipping his coffee. “I wanted to invite you out to dinner tonight after we get back. I know a really nice Mexican couple in Nogales who’ve been friends of mine for years. I thought you might like to have some good home cooking, Mexican style. Since you spent six years in Peru, I thought you’d probably enjoy Latin food.”

“Now that’s a provocative invitation,” Dallas said, trying to look serious. She noticed his black, straight brows moving downward. “Good food is always a draw for me.”

“You mean you’d come along for the food? And not because you’re with me?”

“You’re incorrigible, Murdoch.”

He grinned wolfishly and added, “Maria is a damn good cook. Her husband, Alfredo, is a businessman. He owns a trading post on both sides of the border. I think you’d enjoy them. They’re very intelligent, compassionate people with big hearts. Did you know that at Christmas, they take thousands of dollars worth of gifts to orphanages in Sonora? Alfredo likes to dress up as Santa Claus, and Maria becomes Mrs. Claus. They’re a hoot, the two of them.”