“Hi, Mike.” Jett gestured to Tristan. “This is Dr. Holmes.”

“Hi,” Tristan said, extending her hand. Off to the west, the sun was just about to set, and the purple glow of the night sky and the warm wind on the rooftop made her wish that Jett weren’t working the rest of the night. It was a night made for walking along the river or through the park. As soon as she thought it, she knew why she’d come to the hospital. She’d been looking for Jett. With a start, she dropped Mike’s hand and put both of hers in her pockets. She’d been looking for a woman after all, she just hadn’t realized it. Her instincts had taken her where she needed to go.

The idea of being unknowingly drawn to Jett made her uneasy, and she quickly reminded herself that Jett just happened to be the woman she’d spent time with most recently and her subconscious naturally prodded her to reconnect. No mystery. Nothing had changed. Everything was just as it should be. Except when she looked at Jett, standing beside her with her legs slightly spread, her arms clasped behind her back, Tristan didn’t get the same urge for a quick, easy tumble. She wanted the hard weight of Jett’s body holding her down, and all that pent-up energy she sensed to be unleashed on her. Jett reminded her of storm clouds gathering on a still, heavy summer night and she wanted to be deluged by the ferocity of that storm.

Tristan eased away. She wasn’t herself. Sleep deprived, maybe.

Or maybe the encounter in Las Vegas when she’d been neatly flipped and ended up loving it had thrown her equilibrium off a little. She’d get herself together soon.

“Mike is one of the other pilots,” Jett said.

“How many of you are there?” Tristan said, not really caring, but not wanting to think any more about romantic strolls or summer storms or mind-numbing sex with Jett doing things to her she never knew she wanted.

“Four,” Jett said. “That way, we always have a backup pilot.”

Tristan laughed. “Kind of like being on second call. Which most of the time means first call.”

Both pilots laughed with her. Then Mike handed the clipboard to Jett. “Three routine runs so far today. The mechanic finished all the maintenance this morning. I’ll brief you inside whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll be right there,” Jett said.

“No rush.” Mike gave a wave and walked away.

“I don’t want to keep you,” Tristan said, even though it wasn’t true.

She was looking at a long night alone and right now, standing around on a rooftop with Jett felt just fine as long as she didn’t think about anything except how good Jett looked in black military-style pants and a black T-shirt. The contrast with her fair coloring was striking.

“I’ve got a few minutes before I officially relieve Mike.” Jett gestured to the aircraft. “This is a Eurocopter EC-145—the elite model in its class.”

“Is this what you flew in the Army?”

Jett stiffened. “No. Black Hawks. The medevac versions mostly. Every once in a while I’d fly a UH 60L, a troop transport aircraft.”

“Are there a lot of women flying over there?” Tristan asked.

“Most of the medevac pilots are women. A lot of the troop transport pilots too.” Jett glanced past the aircraft toward downtown, where lights in the taller buildings were beginning to flicker on the horizon, and her features settled into an inscrutable expression.

Tristan recognized the look from earlier that morning. When the conversation got too close to whatever it was Jett didn’t want to talk about, she walked away. Metaphorically, at least. Tristan knew one way to get her back from wherever she had gone. “So this helicopter’s— what—a civilian version of what you flew?”

Jett refocused on Tristan. “Not exactly, but it’s easy to make the transition to one of these when you’ve been flying Black Hawks.”

She opened the door of the aircraft and gestured for Tristan to climb inside.

“You sure?”

Jett grinned. “You can’t break it. Go ahead.”

Tristan climbed inside and turned around to take in the main part of the cabin where all the medical equipment and medications she’d used the night before were neatly stowed away. There was no hint of the controlled chaos. “It looks pretty much like any EMS vehicle.”

“It is, except for the rotors.”

“Oh yeah. That small detail.” Tristan grinned. “How fast does it go?”

“Maximum speed is about two hundred eighty kph, but cruising speed is considerably less.”

The more they talked about the aircraft, the more relaxed Jett seemed to become. As she described the helicopter’s capabilities, Tristan, while interested, found herself focused more on Jett than on what she was saying. The big square halogen lights ringing the helipad came on automatically, backlighting Jett as she sat in the pilot’s seat.

The lines of her face were normally as sharp as if they’d been etched in precious metal, but as she described what she so obviously loved, her expression softened. For a fleeting second, Tristan had a glimpse of another woman behind Jett’s fierce façade. Tristan was reminded of the way she’d felt when she first discovered women, as if every one was a wonderful mystery just waiting to be explored. She hadn’t felt that way in so long, she’d forgotten how good it was. Her easy relationships were fun and physically satisfying, but they didn’t touch her deep inside.

Most of the time that was fine, except on nights like tonight when she wanted something she couldn’t quite name. Something more.

“Sorry I can’t take you up,” Jett said. “Against regulations.”

Tristan tried to focus. “That’s okay. I know this is serious stuff.”

“Well,” Jett said, “I hope I didn’t bore you.”

“You don’t bore me.” Tristan felt the pressure of time bearing down on her. Jett was going to disappear any second. “I was wondering—”

Linda appeared around the front of the helicopter and peered in.

“Hey! You two aren’t going anywhere without me, are you?”

“Did we get a request?” Jett asked, instantly serious. She climbed out of the helicopter and Tristan followed.

“No,” Linda said. “Mike said you were out here, so I figured it was a good time to catch you before the night got too crazy. Hello, Dr. Holmes.”

“Hi.” Tristan felt Linda’s curious scrutiny as she gazed from Jett to Tristan.

“I’m having a party at the house next Saturday night,” Linda said, “and I wanted to invite you before you made plans to take any extra shifts, Cap. You too, Dr. Holmes. Pretty much the whole neighborhood is coming. We hope Honor will be able to make it too.”

“That’s great,” Tristan said. “I’ll be there. And call me Tristan.”

When Jett said nothing, Linda added, “Most of the flight crew is coming. It’s casual. Some beer and burgers. That kind of thing.”

“If I don’t need to work, I’ll try to make it.” Jett glanced at Tristan. “I better get inside. Good night.”

“Hope it’s quiet,” Tristan called after her.

“We live around the corner from Quinn and Honor.” Linda gave Tristan the address. “I’m sorry we haven’t invited you over sooner. It’s been a little crazy with me switching from the ER to the medevac crew this spring.”

“That’s okay. I’m just getting settled myself.”

“You’re welcome to bring a date,” Linda said with a playful smile.

“Thanks.” Tristan eyed the stairwell where Jett had disappeared.

She’d been about to impetuously ask Jett out when Linda had interrupted her, but she wasn’t at all sure that was such a good idea. Jett really wasn’t her type, and it was never smart to change a winning game plan.

Evie or Darla would be a much better choice. “I just might do that.”

Chapter Seven

“Nice flying, Jett!” Linda held open the door to the stairwell as sheets of rain lashed the rooftop. “The ride was so smooth I wouldn’t have even known we were in the middle of a thunderstorm if it hadn’t been for the lightning.”

“Thanks.” Jett finger-combed the water from her hair as she and Linda started down the stairwell toward the crew quarters. The storm front had blown up out of nowhere while they were transporting a patient to the burn unit in Hershey, seventy miles away. The eleven year-old boy had been the sole survivor of a house fire that had claimed the rest of his family. The weather had been clear when they’d picked him up. Jett had put the helicopter down in the twisting two-lane road adjacent to the still-flaming house as fire rescue worked to quench the blaze and locate victims. Jett watched, feeling as if she’d viewed the scene a thousand times before, as first one body and then another had been brought from the smoldering structure. As each casualty emerged, draped in black plastic, she wondered if she would return to base with an empty aircraft. Already, the medical examiner’s van stood waiting with doors open twenty yards in front of her. Finally a shout went up and she could feel the excitement all the way into the cockpit. Someone had been found alive. Linda and Juan and the fire rescue personnel swarmed the stretcher, performed the initial resuscitation, and had the boy in the aircraft within minutes.

“Good save out there,” Jett said, pausing in the hallway outside the flight crew lounge.

Linda smiled wearily. “I hope so. He’s got a long road ahead of him.” She touched Jett’s bare arm. “He wouldn’t have had any chance at all if you hadn’t gotten us to Hershey. I was afraid for a few minutes there you were going to have to abort the flight.”

Jett shrugged. Flying in electrical storms was hazardous. A lightning strike would fry the radio at the very least, and worst-case scenario, the gears would mesh or the rotors debond and come apart.

She’d considered detouring to another hospital away from the storm path, but that would have delayed the boy’s essential care for too long.

Any hospital could handle most noncritical burns, but with the degree of injuries he had, even a few hours’ delay might have meant the onset of fatal respiratory or infectious complications. She’d seen enough burns to know. So she’d set a course around the worst of it and made it to the burn center. She’d pushed to the limits, but she’d still been in her safety zone. Other pilots might’ve felt differently, but other pilots hadn’t flown in the conditions she’d flown under every day for months.

“We’ve got the best aircraft going. It will take us through anything.”

Linda laughed. “I think it’s the pilot I trust the most.”

“Thanks,” Jett said again, drawing her arm away. Linda was a vibrant, sensual woman who touched easily, laughed easily, and exuded compassion. Jett knew there was nothing special about Linda’s attention, or even out of the ordinary, but she was in that place where the brush of a woman’s skin against hers could twist her insides until she couldn’t think.

“I’m going to make some fresh coffee.” Linda pushed the door to the lounge open and shot Jett a questioning look. “Coming in?”

“I was downwind most of the time out there, and the cockpit took a lot of smoke from the fire. I need to shower and change my clothes.”

“Mmm, me too.” Linda smiled. “Well, you know where it will be.”

Jett nodded and made her way to her room alone.

“The weapons fire was heavy out there tonight,” Gail said breathlessly. “They must have gotten a new shipment of ammunition from somewhere.”

Jett grimaced. “Kept our gunners busy.” She rolled her shoulders, trying to work loose some of the stiffness. She’d had a death grip on the stick, trying to maneuver her Black Hawk away from the small arms fire that hammered the air around her aircraft with lethal projectiles.

The dense black sky would have been beautiful, bursting with streaks of color, if every one of those pyrotechnic displays hadn’t been so deadly.

Since the insurgents rarely had sophisticated weaponry, they blanketed the sky with as much small arms fire as possible, hoping for a random hit. Her only choice was to fly as straight and fast as possible while hoping a round didn’t hit her fuel tank or her passengers. Or her.

“You’ve been flying for eight days straight in terrible conditions. You’ve got to be pretty beat up.”

“No more than usual,” Jett said.

“Come on, I’ve got just the thing.”

When Gail headed toward her tent, Jett hesitated. It was the middle of the night, and there wasn’t much activity in camp, so no one was likely to see them. Nevertheless, going into Gail’s tent made her uneasy. Gail was just being friendly, but Jett didn’t think spending time alone with her was a good idea. She’d been in the desert for months, and although she was certain she wasn’t the only lesbian, she restricted her sexual forays to when she was on leave. As time passed and her sense of futility and anger over the tragic waste of life escalated, her control wavered. She was edgy all the time, and nothing she managed on her own eased the relentless tension. She should go back to her own tent.