What was happening to him? To his satisfyingly single, devil-may-care, wild existence?

He wished he knew. Ah, hell, forget that. He did know. He knew exactly.

Corrine paced her office but no matter how long she walked, the images wouldn't go away. Her, with her back to the wall, legs shrink-wrapped around Mike, head thrown back as she let him take her hard and fast.

Let him take her.

She'd never let anyone take her in her entire life. No, she'd demanded it, and the memory of that now burned.

And everyone knew.

Well, whatever. It was done and she was not going to sit around and cry over spilled milk. So her team knew. She'd deal with that. What she couldn't deal with was having it happen again. Ever.

Grabbing the phone, she pounded out a number. "Mom," she said with relief when her mother picked up. "I miss you." An understatement. Nowhere on earth did she ever feel so good, so comfortable, so happy in her own skin, as she did with her family. "I have three days off, and I'm coming home."

When she'd dealt with her mother's joy, she picked up her purse, ignored her briefcase and hauled open her office door.

Tripping over Mike, she fell right into his lap.

His arms came around her and, wrapped in his warm strength, she forgot to hate him.

"You okay?" he murmured, and that voice, God, that sexy voice, reminded her.

Scrambling to her knees, she pointed at him. "You."

He was sitting crosslegged, right there on the floor, looking, to her satisfaction, every bit as miserable as she'd felt before she'd called home. "Me," he agreed.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?"

"I'm not sure you'd believe it. I don't hardly believe it myself," he muttered. "And anyway, it occurred to me, leaving you this mad might be a really bad idea."

With as much dignity as she could, she stood, then sent him a withering glance when he reached out and stopped her from leaving. "Now's not a good time to take me on, Mike."

"I realize that." He held her anyway. "I want you to look me in the eyes, Corrine, and tell me you really believe I did this to hurt you. That I took you against the door of your office for the sole purpose of letting everyone around us know what's going on."

Of course she couldn't look him in the eyes and tell him that. "Now is a bad time."

"Look at me, damn it-" He grappled with her when she fought him. "Tell me."

He was fierce and hurt and full of bad temper. Well, so was she, so she shrugged him off and reached for the purse she'd dropped. "Goodbye, Mike."

She headed for the bathroom to clean up. When she came out he was still there, waiting. Not acknowledging him she turned to leave.

She was halfway down the hall before she realized he was right behind her. Silent. Brooding. She ignored him all the way to her car, even though she wanted to grab him, wanted to hold on to him, lay her head on his shoulder and forget the rest of the world existed.

What a weakness. It terrified her. "Don't even think about following me." She got in her car, started it and pictured the next three days of peace and quiet.

No Mike.

And in the not-too-distant future, after their mission was complete, he'd be out of her life for more than just three days. He'd be gone for good.

Things would be great, she'd be fine and her life would get back to normal. But the truth was, she wasn't fine and nothing would ever be normal again. Not without Mike.

Starting the car, she looked straight ahead and resisted putting her head on the steering wheel to have a good, and very rare, pity party. Mike would be watching, she knew.

In his dumbest move since decorating his high-school math teacher's house with toilet paper after a particularly rough test, Mike followed Corrine.

Not that he easily kept up with her on the freeway; the woman was a holy terror, dodging through traffic left and right, making him wince.

She wasn't going to her condo.

It took less than thirty minutes to arrive in a lovely, quiet little suburb where there were white picket fences and pretty yards with flowers and SUVs and children playing-a world away from the military childhood he'd had.

Having spent the past ten years in Russia, in the teeming, overcrowded cities there, he was experiencing quite a culture shock.

Corrine got out of her car, ran up the walk of one exceptionally pretty house and embraced an older couple. There was a beaming smile across her usually solemn face.

And he understood.

She'd come home. Interesting, as he'd never thought of her as the family type. But then again, he'd never thought he'd find himself chasing down a woman he couldn't get out of his head.

Well, meeting her family ought to do it, really. That should bring on both hives and the need to run far and fast.

He was counting on it, anyway.

He parked and got out, not sure of his next move, or even what he really wanted. Maybe for Corrine to acknowledge she'd been unfair to him back there in her office. Or maybe for her to tell him what the hell they had, because he'd feel better if he could somehow label this whole thing.

He knew the exact moment she sensed him; she stiffened and turned, then frowned. He imagined she growled as well, but he was, thankfully, far enough away that he could only hear the birds chirping and the light breeze rustling the trees in the yard.

Oh, and his own nerves. He could hear those loud and clear.

A glutton for punishment, he moved closer.

"From work," she muttered over her shoulder, obviously in response to her mother's question. "He's my pilot. No, don't look at him, maybe he'll go away."

"Corrine Anne!" Her mother looked shocked and horrified. "That is no way to greet a guest!"

Now Corrine looked directly into Mike's eyes, her own gaze filled with dread, resignation. Fear. Everything he was feeling.

There! he thought. We're in this together, baby.

"Hello," said the man who he assumed was Corrine's father. He thrust out his hand. "Donald Atkinson."

"Dr. Donald Atkinson," Corrine corrected. "My father." She gestured to the petite, dark-haired woman next to her, who was watching Mike closely, brimming with curiosity. "And this is my mother. Dr. Louisa Atkinson." She smiled sweetly. "And now you can go."

This was going to require finesse. "We need to talk, Corrine."

"Actually, Mike, we don't."

"I know you're mad at me, but-"

"Not here. I'm…busy. Really busy."

"Why do you keep running?"

"Running?" She nearly gaped, then seemed to remember their audience and slammed her mouth shut. "I never run. Now go away, Mike."

"Of course he can't go away, darling," her mother said, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to Mike. "He hasn't even come inside yet."

He took her hand immediately, expecting a handshake, but found himself pulled into her warm arms for a welcoming hug. "Well," he said, at an utter loss. Held tight in her embrace, he finally settled for patting her back uncertainly. "Uh…nice to meet you, Dr. Atkinson."

"Oh, just Louisa."

"Mom." Corrine didn't look like a commander at the moment, nor the lover who'd rocked his world; she looked like a peeved daughter. "He doesn't belong here."

Louisa shot her daughter a long look. "I raised you better than that." She smiled at Mike. "We don't stand on formality here. Come in." She slipped an arm through his and led him toward the front door. "So you work with my daughter? All the things you people are doing up there in space, it just blows my mind. Did you get the solar panels to work properly? And what about that complicated computer communications system? What a shame, the troubles, this close to launch. Well, let's not think about that now, hmm? Donald, honey, get the door, will you? And Corrine, put on a pot of water, please. Now, Mike." She squeezed his hand. "Tell me all about yourself. Where are you from? I find that all of you astronauts have such fascinating backgrounds. Corrine's included," she said with a delighted little laugh.

Somehow Mike found himself up the steps, through the front door and sitting in a charming, warm, open living room with a cup of hot tea in his hands.

Corrine paced the length of the room, pausing every five seconds or so to give him a glare that he would have sworn amused her mother all the more.

It should have been awkward, showing up here unannounced and uninvited, but it felt right. And as he opened up for the first time in a long time, he decided Corrine was just going to have to get used to it.

"Oh my goodness," Louisa said, shaking her head after he'd told her a little about himself. "All those years in Russia. What a wonderful experience! I went there for a conference, several years ago now, and I found it to be one of the most beautiful yet haunting places on earth. How lucky you are, to receive that heritage from your mother."

And just that simply, Mike fell in love. He couldn't help it; he had no defenses against a mother, any mother. His had been gone for so long, and his world had always been lacking in any maternal presence or influence whatsoever. But Louisa crossed all barriers and entered his heart.

He looked up and caught Corrine's eye. She'd gone still, and now she was looking at him with something new, something he couldn't place. "What?" he asked softly, but she only shook her head.

And yet her irritation at having him there seemed to diminish. When her parents left the room, ostensibly for cookies, Mike knew it was to give them some privacy.

"You like them," Corrine said with a sigh. "I couldn't have imagined you here, holding a teacup, making nice. But here you are."

"I couldn't have imagined you here, either. But here you are."

"And here we are."

"Yeah." He reached out and touched her hand, wanting, needing, yearning for so much it hurt, and yet he didn't have the words. "What now, Corrine?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"On why you're here. Why are you really here, Mike?"

He opened his mouth, but as he didn't have a clear answer for that, or at least one he understood enough to explain, he closed it again.

Looking oddly deflated, she pulled back.

"What did you want me to say?" he asked in turn.

"That's just it," she whispered with a heartbreaking sigh. "I don't know, either."

12

No doubt about it, Mike's presence in her family home scared Corrine, really scared her.

He looked good here, comfortable. Confused, she took a walk. Unsatisfied, she ended up in her parents' garden, where she found her father showing off his prize roses to Mike.

Both of them were hunkered down in the dirt, their backs to her, admiring the growth of a flower.

It was a contradiction in terms, these so very masculine men surrounded by such sweet, feminine beauty, and yet that was one of the things she loved so much about her dad.

He didn't fit into a type. She stood there, rooted by a sudden realization.

That was why she liked Mike as well.

Oh, God, it was true. He was an astronaut, which meant by definition he should have been cocky, arrogant and in possession of a certain recklessness. A wild adventurer.

He was those things, but he was also so much more. And watching as he reached out now and touched the tip of a blooming rose with such joy, with his entire face lit up, made her heart tighten.

The reason for being one half of a couple had always escaped Corrine, mostly because she'd never wanted to be half of anything. She'd certainly never wanted anyone able to veto her decisions, or God forbid, make them for her.

And yet her parents were a couple, a solid one, and for years they'd managed to work things out with an ease that Corrine always admired but never understood. They were both well-educated overachievers, stubborn as hell, and single-minded, so really, their success was one big mystery.

A mystery Corrine suddenly, urgently needed to solve.

She waited until dinner time, when she found both her parents together in the kitchen. Her father was chopping vegetables. Her mother was standing over him, shaking her head. "You're not cutting diagonally, dear. You need to-" "I think I know how to cut a tomato, Louisa." "No, obviously you don't. You have to-"

"Louisa, honey? Either let me be or order takeout."

"Take-out sounds wonderful."

"Don't you dare," Donald said, smiling when his teasing wife laughed at him.

"How do you do that?" Corrine asked, baffled by the mix of temper and affection. "How do you fight over a tomato and still love each other?"