Lindsay McKenna - Mission - Christmas - The Christmas Wild Bunch / Snowbound with a Prince

“I’m glad we cleared the air, Mike. I didn’t know the details about your divorce. That had to be horrible on you. The shock…If you entered that marriage with the idea it was forever…Well, what a heartbreaking situation.”

“That’s why I was hitting the Nogales nightclubs when you arrived. I was drinking to stop the pain I was feeling,” he admitted quietly. After looking around, which was his habit as a copilot, he returned his gaze to her. “And you really snapped me out of it that first day we flew together.” Giving her another boyish grin, he said, “Thanks. I needed that.”

“What? Being laid out flat on your back on the tarmac?”

Murdoch chuckled. “Yeah, I’d been drinking heavily, almost nonstop, for two weeks. It wasn’t like me, but I had to do something to dull the pain.”

“Helluva way to do it,” Dallas commented, searching the airspace below them. The sky was lightening up even more. The Cessna chugged like the stalwart workhorse it was. “Sometimes we all have to hit brick walls, Mike. Maybe I was your wall.”

“Yeah,” he murmured wryly, “but your wall has a door, and I’m knockin’ to be let in, darlin’.”

Dallas was sitting in her office on a cold, early December morning when Mike sauntered in. She glanced at her watch and realized time was slipping away from them. As usual, he was in his rumpled flight suit, but he made it look pulverizingly male. What was there not to like about him?

“Hey, I heard some scuttlebutt from Thomas Boyce at the BP headquarters in D.C.,” he said, closing the door quickly to keep in the heat. He couldn’t help but stare. She was wearing a ponytail at the nape of her neck. He fantasized about removing the rubber band that held her thick, shining hair and then running his hands through it. He knew the rose-scented locks would feel like sleek, raw silk.

“Yeah? What kind of scuttlebutt?” Dallas asked, picking up her morning coffee.

Mike leaned lazily against the wooden counter where all the flight plans were created. “That you are landing us another flight team. Are we going to get in more personnel? God knows we’re working 24-7, and we need the help. Our C.O. was never able to pry loose more pilots and planes from the Border Patrol because of the budget.” Mike eyed her. “Is all this true?”

Grinning triumphantly, she eased back in her chair. “Sure is.” She liked the way he glowed with happiness at her comment. “I’ve been here long enough to see that the four of us are going to be driven into the ground by the work demands.” She pointed to a map behind her desk that had red pins all across the state of Sonora. “You and I have been working seven days a week since I got here.”

Resting his elbows on the counter, he held her gaze. “Yeah, I can’t even get a date with you because of our killer schedule,” he griped good-naturedly. “That night you agreed to go to dinner with me? Our flight that day ended up lasting far past my friends’ dinner hour, and it was scrubbed. When have we had time for dinner together? Much less with my friends?”

A shaft of heat moved through her. Dallas didn’t tell him she was glad that long mission had happened. A part of her had been looking forward to having dinner with Mike and his Mexican friends. But another part had been reluctant. Murdoch was a macho guy who, if he saw something he wanted, went after it with no apology. While Dallas liked that kind of assertiveness in their trade, working against drug smugglers, he was moving way too fast for her on a personal front. She liked him but wasn’t ready to commit to anything. Not yet. “Well,” she drawled with a smile, “all in good time, Murdoch. Some things are worth waiting for. Did your parents ever try to teach you patience?” She chuckled.

“Not one of my greatest attributes, is it, Ms. Dallas?”

They were alone, and Dallas enjoyed their repartee. Mike was the biggest jokester in Nogales, and he made her laugh even at grim times chasing the druggies. “No, it’s not, but you have others.”

“Oh?” He perked up and placed his hands on his hips. “Like what?”

“Oh, no,” Dallas said, holding up her own hands and laughing, “I’m not going there! Your head is swelled enough, Cowboy.”

“I know, my arrogance is becoming. Even appealing to you. Isn’t it?” Mike liked the way her cheeks grew pink. He knew how to get beneath her armor.

“At times,” she said, holding his penetrating gaze and trying not to respond physically. Did Murdoch know how damn virile he was? Dallas suspected he did. Even though he’d shaved that morning, a hint of stubble already grew, making his face seem slightly dangerous. That kind of danger Dallas liked, and she quelled her yearning for him. She had to settle in as X.O., not to mention she had a number of jobs to undertake to keep this small flight unit functional.

“Well,” Mike said, “since the rumor is true, where did you scrounge up these extra bodies? The C.O. has never been able to force Washington to give us relief pilots so we could have a weekend off.”

“I got one pilot,” she told him. “Captain Alexander. She was due for rotation out of the Black Jaguar Squadron. I knew that in advance, so I made a phone call to an influential U.S. Army general back at the Pentagon.” Dallas handed him the summary orders. It was an excuse to touch his hand. The moment their fingertips met, warmth flowed into her. She savored the sensation.

“Thanks,” Mike said, taking the paper. He stared down at the new orders for the pilot. “Nike Alexander?”

“It’s pronounced ‘Nikee.’”

“Interesting. Wasn’t there a Greek goddess by that name?”

“Sure was. Nike Alexander was named after the goddess of victory. She was born in Athens. And she likes to tell everyone that the goddess was created when the god of war, Ares, consorted with a mortal woman. Nike was the child created by their love.”

“She sounds like she’ll be real aggressive in the air,” Murdoch said, handing the sheet back to Dallas. “And if she was named after the goddess of victory, then it sounds like you picked a real winner. We want aggressive pilots around here.”

“You got that right. There isn’t a woman at BJS who isn’t air combat aggressive, and from my experience around here, that’s needed in spades. Those drug smugglers in Sonora are the worst bunch I’ve ever run into. And I believe Nike can help us make a difference.”

“What about a copilot for her? You got one yet?”

Dallas shook her head. “No. I’ve got some pull in the Pentagon, and I’m working that angle right now. With the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, pilots are rare as hen’s teeth. But I’ve got a lead on one, and I believe we can get him.”

Rubbing his hands, Mike said, “You’re an accomplished, crafty woman, you know that?” He was proud of her abilities. The more he knew about Dallas, the more he admired her.

“That’s the X.O.’s job,” she parried, putting a number of items on her desk away. It was time to get going on their morning mission. “I like what I do. All the chess moves to get what we need around here. The C.O.’s thrilled pink we have Nike assigned to us.”

“I’m sure he is. Jake and Bob are gonna be jumping up and down over this change, too. They’d like to have some time off with their families.”

“I know,” Dallas said, frowning. “This work is demanding. We can’t be fresh and alert when we’re working 24-7, either, so that’s another reason to get a third flight team in here.”

Giving her an intent look, Murdoch said, “You know, I got a funny feeling about you. Why do I think you aren’t going to be around here forever?”

She smiled slightly as she put Nike Alexander’s orders in a personnel folder, which she tucked in the file drawer on the left side of her desk. Her heart twinged at the thought of leaving Mike, and that was new for her.