It had never happened, not yet anyway, and she was beginning to believe it never would. Another bitter disappointment, knowing love, true love, always eluded her.

"Corrine."

His voice was so soft, so urgent, so utterly gripping. She lifted her head, but Stephen entered the room just then, followed by Frank.

"Ready to rock and roll?" Frank asked, rubbing his hands together with glee. Nothing made Frank happier than a SIM, which was what they were going to be doing directly after their team meeting.

"Let's get to it," Stephen said, the two of them oblivious to the tension in the room.

Jimmy came in next, his eyes suddenly measured and assessing as he looked back and forth between the commander and pilot. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Corrine said quickly. Too quickly, damn it. She felt herself starting to crumble. They could see something, some crack in her control, and she knew it would be beyond awful if she didn't get it together right here, right now. "We're just getting ready for the meeting, going over some notes."

Jimmy's eyebrows came together as he studied her. And now Frank and Stephen were more closely assessing her as well.

"Did we miss something?"

"Yeah. The doughnuts," Mike said, shocking

Corrine with his rescue, especially since she'd jumped all over him the last time he'd done that.

"There were doughnuts and you ate them all?" Stephen sighed. "You owe me, Wright."

"Two kinds of people on this team," Mike said, still looking at Corrine. "The quick and the hungry.

Frank laughed. "Well, color me hungry then."

"Damn," Jimmy said, pulling out a chair.

Stephen waggled a finger beneath Mike's nose. "You're buying lunch, pal. With dessert."

Corrine managed a smile as she grabbed her clipboard. "Lunch is on me. We'll be needing to calorie up for this afternoon's SIM."

Among the pretend groans and eye rolling, she dared a glance at Mike. He looked back at her steadily, and utterly without expression.

Not once since they'd first met had the heat and even basic affection been gone from his gaze. Not once.

It was gone now. Good. Just as she'd wanted.

But her throat burned and her chest felt tight as a drum. And for the first time, she had to wonder what she'd sacrificed in the name of success and her job.

For the next month Corrine didn't have time to so much as breathe, nor did anyone else associated with the mission.

Still, Mike was everywhere-in her SIM, in her meetings, at her side… and in her dreams.

At work they did nothing but simulation after simulation. Everything from this point on would be a run-through of the upcoming mission, only a month away now. Everything they did, they did as a team.

So she was constantly with Mike.

Her frozen heart, along with all its complicated, newly defrosted emotions, left her with no defenses. During one particularly grueling afternoon, when things weren't going right, her first instinct was to bark out orders and get the team back on track. But two words stopped her.

Ice Queen.

Walking the length of the hangar, consulting her clipboard and trying to smooth out a dozen things at once, she happened to catch sight of herself, reflected in a shiny control panel.

Her hair was clipped back, not a strand out of place. She wore little makeup and no smile, making her appear… stern.

The Ice Queen.

Around her was controlled chaos as her team prepared for yet another simulated flight, but she went stock-still. Was she really as stern as she looked? She didn't want to think so. She was as fun-loving and full of joy as anyone else.

So why did she look so hard? Pulling her lips back, she attempted a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Standing there, she tried to think of something funny, something that would evoke a genuine smile. Leaning closer to her reflection, she racked her brain and-

"Need a mirror, Commander?"

The half-ass smile froze in place. Moving her eyes from her reflection to the one that had appeared right next to her, she groaned.

Mike, of course.

"What are you doing?" She straightened up as if she hadn't just been practicing ridiculous smiles at herself in the reflective panel of a space shuttle.

"Watching you watch yourself." He leaned back, making himself comfortable. He was always comfortable, damn him. "That's some smile you've got there, Commander."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because that's what you are, remember? My commander. Nothing more, nothing less."

Well. Her own doing, that, so there was no reason to get her feelings hurt.

"You ought to try using it more." For just a moment, his eyes roamed over her face like a sweet touch, before he caught himself and looked away. "The smile, that is."

She'd used her smile plenty with him, mostly in bed. At that thought, she bent down, pretending to study a panel, but it was merely an excuse to gather herself. Yet the facade she wore like a coat wouldn't work this time, because it would only prove his point.

Oh hell, why did she even care? She didn't. She'd just have to be the woman she always was, and if he chose to misunderstand, then so much the better. It would remind her of her own foolishness.

While she was hunkered down, contemplating all this, a hand appeared in front of her face. Mike's hand. She stared at those reaching fingers. With any other man, she'd have taken the gesture as an insult, because she could get up herself and always had. But with Mike, she knew it had nothing at all to do with her capabilities, or his perception of them. He was simply being a gentleman.

Which meant she was a lady, at least in his eyes. Well, she'd been a lady and more with him, hadn't she?

Silently she took his hand and rose. Together they joined the team on the other side of the hangar, and all moved into place for their SIM.

For this particular exercise-simulating the landing at the space station, the "parking" and the subsequent unloading-Mike and she had to sit side by side in a relatively small space, with little natural light, mostly just the blue-green glare from the glowing controls. Even the air felt constricted, creating an intimate ambience that was almost too much to take.

With every passing second, as Corrine worked the controls, she became more and more aware of him. She couldn't even breathe without his scent filling her lungs. Did he mean to be so overwhelming with his presence? Did he know that his dark eyes drew her, that every time he swallowed, his Adam's apple danced and she felt the insane urge to put her mouth to that very spot? Did he know that his rolled-up sleeves, so carelessly shoved up his strong arms, made her want to reach out and touch? That when she leaned to the right, her shoulder brushed his broader, stronger one? And that she kept doing it on purpose for the small thrill of it?

He didn't look at her, but had dropped into the "zone" where he was utterly calm and totally focused, ready for anything.

As she should have been.

She'd nearly managed it when their fingers tangled as they both reached for the same control.

Her eye caught his, and though he was completely into his work, something flickered there, warmed.

It should be against the code of space travel to be so sexy, she thought, and turned away to focus on unloading the cargo.

And when, two minutes later, one of the solar panels malfunctioned during the unfurling, it took her a moment to understand it wasn't her fault, that it had nothing to do with what she was feeling for her pilot.

The broken equipment was only a prototype for the real component, one of three that had been built for exactly these practice missions, but that made it no less of a problem. It required sending hordes of engineers back to the drawing board, soothing freaked-out NASA officials and dealing with the press, who were dying to put a negative spin on the price of the space program.

Hours and hours later, when Corrine finally took a moment to draw a deep breath, she escaped to the staff kitchen.

Mike had gotten there first.

He said nothing, just lifted the milk carton he held as if in a silent toast.

A job well done? Is that what he meant? "Thanks for your hard work today," she said.

He took a long swig, then licked his upper lip. "You worked harder than any of us. Did anyone thank you?"

"No."

"They should have." He stayed where he was, which was unlike him, but then again, she'd made it pretty clear that's what she wanted. A lot of space between them. "Then thank you," he said simply. "You've done a great job."

"For an Ice Queen."

"What?"

"I've done a good job, for an Ice Queen. Isn't that what you meant?"

He actually looked surprised, then slowly shook his head. "You still stewing over that?"

Apparently so. How terribly revealing.

"I would have apologized. Should have apologized." He looked at her for a long second, then let out a hard breath. "I was mad at you, Corrine. I wanted to break through and see, if only for a moment, the woman beneath the tough veneer, the woman I've laughed with, talked to, made love with. I was frustrated and hot and full of temper, a bad combo on any day."

"You're saying that was just temper talking?"

"As in do I really think of you as an Ice Queen?" He stepped closer, touched her hair. "I don't want to. God, I don't want to."

But he did, she thought.

His voice lowered. Softened. Became irresistible. "I hurt you. I'm sorry for that, Corrine. So sorry."

He was sorry, which left her floundering, because without her anger, everything else pushed and shoved its way to the surface. It was that everything else she couldn't handle.

As usual, she slept alone, haunted by dreams of warm, loving arms holding her, pressing her against a long, hard, muscled body that knew exactly how to give and what to take.

She woke up hot, damp and frustrated, and wrapped around her pillow.

A bad start, to say the least, and the day didn't improve from there. A critical communications program, brand-new for this mission, crashed. Another catastrophe, and another rush for the drawing board.

By the end of the day she was tense, tired and maybe more than a tad irritable. Grumbling to herself, she went to the staff room for scalding, black coffee… and ran into Mike.

He wasn't drinking milk this time, wasn't doing anything but standing near the coffeepot. She wondered if maybe he'd been waiting there for her.

"You going to thank me again for a job well done?" she asked, more than a little caustically. She couldn't help it. If ever she'd deserved her Ice Queen title, it had been today. "After all, I've worked pretty damn hard these past hours, yelling at computer programmers, scaring engineers, terrorizing rogue reporters, etcetera."

"Yeah, I'm going to thank you." He smiled at her dare, deflating her anger with nothing more than his presence. "You saved our butts today.

You saved our butts yesterday, too, and you know what? I think you're magnificent."

"I…" How did he do that, render her speechless? "I don't know what to say to you."

His mouth curved. "You never do, when it comes to a compliment."

The way he looked at her made her suddenly long for the simplicity of what they shared only when they were in bed.

His eyes darkened. "I'd give anything to hear your thought, the one that made your cheeks flush hot."

"Not a chance."

"Damn."

"I figured you were still mad at me."

"Mad?" He slowly shook his head. "I've been a lot of things when it comes to you, most of which you don't want to hear, so think good and hard, Corrine, before you open up this can of worms."

She might have done just that, if her beeper hadn't suddenly gone off. An emergency page, she discovered, which didn't bode well.

What else can go wrong? she wondered, rushing through the maze of hallways.

"Anything," Mike said grimly, startling her, because she hadn't realized he'd come along or that she'd spoken out loud.

It was the robotic arm, they discovered a few moments later, which was now malfunctioning after Stephen's weight had been on it, while he was working on a relaying function.

"Defunct," Stephen called down in disgust.

The arm, too, was just a prototype, but a malfunction was a malfunction. Corrine didn't hesitate to climb up, pushing aside all the technicians to get there. Then dug right in, barking suggestions and orders, and more suggestions.

Two hours later, they'd solved the problem. By the time Corrine climbed down, she was exhausted, had a headache and could eat a horse.