Her Perfect Stranger

9

Mike walked into the conference room and Corrine's heart took off like a rocket. "Good morning," she said coolly. No one had to know she was on the verge of death by mortification, or that her palms were damp with nerves, just from seeing him again.

She'd left him blissfully, gloriously naked, fully sated and fast asleep. He'd accuse her of being a chicken, but it hadn't been fear that made her run; it had simply been time to put aside all personal stuff and get to work.

Here at work, she couldn't afford to be thinking of someone else, grieving over what could never be. Concentration was required. Time to put everything else aside and get on with her scheduled team meeting.

No problem. Putting everything else aside had always come easy for Corrine.

Until now.

Mike didn't answer or return her greeting, didn't even acknowledge it. He looked tall, dark and royally pissed off, not to mention so beautiful he took her breath away.

"Um…coffee?" she asked, gesturing toward the pot. The few sips she'd already taken were making her jittery.

Or maybe that was Mike.

"No, thanks."

She busied herself adding sugar and cream to her coffee, though she preferred it black. But she needed in the worst way to not look at him.

"Corrine."

He was going to want to talk about it. She should have known.

"Corrine." His eyes glittered with attitude and knowledge, knowledge that she'd run from him. Which really was proof positive that he could never understand her. His dark hair was still wet from what must have been a very recent shower, one in which he hadn't shaved, as witnessed by the dark, day-old stubble on his jaw.

She knew that stubble, knew it intimately, knew how it felt gliding over her skin, the raspy sound it made when he lingered, and the citrusy scent of it.

"Don't, he said in a gruff, almost harsh voice, and she was thankful they were the only ones in the room, because that voice made her blood start singing.

"Don't what?" she asked as lightly as she could.

"Don't look at me as if you can't take your eyes off me, because we both know that's not true."

It was true, but she wasn't about to admit that. "I'm only looking at you because you're early. I'm surprised, is all."

"I'm early," he said, stalking toward her with his long-gaited, very confident stride. "Because I woke up early. With a raging hard-on, as a matter of fact."

She bit her lip and held her ground, forcing her chin up so she would look fearless. Which she absolutely was. Fearless. Nothing got to her, nothing… except for maybe, just maybe, this man. "I thought all men woke up that way."

"Yes, but I woke up expecting to be wrapped around a warm, sleepy woman." He was nearly upon her now. "One whom I could slowly caress and kiss and taste until she was wide awake and writhing beneath me, making those soft, desperate sounds, which, by the way, are the sexiest I've ever heard."

"Mike-"

"And then when I had her that way," he continued in a soft, silky voice, "I was going to slowly sink inside her, one inch at a time, until-"

"Stop," she whispered desperately, weakly, glancing at the open doorway. But no one else had arrived yet. She was shaking, damp from perspiration, just at his words!

Did she really sound soft and desperate when he was buried deep inside her?

And did he really think she was sexy? No one had ever told her such things. No one had ever even thought them of her, she was quite certain. "We can't do this here."

"Oh, yes, we can." His eyes were flashing, and despite his unbearably sensuous words and soft tone, his mouth was grim. "We can do this here, because you're not going to let me do it anywhere else. I might be a little slow on the uptake, Corrine, but I'm not stupid."

No, no he wasn't. And he really was furious. She supposed he had a right, but she had a right, too. And damn it, hadn't she told him nothing could come of this…this thing between them? It wasn't as if she'd led him on, or purposely set out to hurt anyone's feelings. Besides, if anyone was going to get hurt here, it was going to be her. Because she couldn't fool herself any longer; he was magnificent. And he wouldn't stay single for long. Some other woman would come along and snag him.

But she…she would forever pine over what might have been. "I realize you're upset-"

"Upset," he repeated in a quiet, reasonable voice. He even nodded. But he didn't stop coming toward her. "Yes, you're right about that, Corrine. I'm upset."

"I know." Not allowing herself to back up, she reached behind her and gripped the conference table for support. "I do know. But-"

"No, I don't think you do." He stopped a breath away from her, so close she had to tip her head back to see into his face, but no way was she going to retreat.

She retreated for no one.

"I'm beginning to realize you know nothing about me or my feelings," he said. "Nothing at all. In fact…" He tipped his head and studied her for a long, squirmy moment. "Maybe you really are the Ice Queen everyone says you are."

She couldn't even open her mouth, his words cut such a deep wound. Her hand came up to rub at the sudden ache in her chest and she was half surprised to find no sign of blood. "You…you think I'm an Ice Queen."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you're not. Tell me you're not frozen to the emotions running wild within me. Do it," he begged softly, reaching out, trying to make her look at him. But she was done. Done with this, and done with him, because damn it, he didn't understand at all, and she wasn't about to try to make him.

Not when all her life she'd had to explain herself, except with her family. They'd always accepted her just as she was, and she'd always believed that someday, somewhere, she'd find that same acceptance elsewhere. And when she did, she'd always promised herself, that would be the man she'd marry.

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.

Mike wasn't in the kitchen this time as she finally grabbed her things and prepared to go home, but he was in the parking lot, getting into his rental car.

When he saw her, he went still, carefully studying her face for a long moment.

Always uncomfortable with scrutiny, she shifted. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing. Forget it." But he pocketed his keys and moved toward her with that long-legged stride of his. He'd worked all day, too, right by her side, but he didn't look as rumpled as she felt, not at all. His sleeves were still shoved back, and maybe his shirt was a little wrinkled from where he'd been crawling around on the robotic arm alongside her, but he looked…well, unbearably familiar, and unbearably sexy.

Reaching out, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You look beat."

His voice was low, soft. Gentle. His fingers on her cheek, where they lingered, were tender.

Damn him for all the inconsistencies! And damn him for still, after all this time, being able to melt her with nothing more than a half smile and the touch of a finger on her skin.

"You're an amazing woman, Corrine," he said quietly, with a different tight in his gaze than she'd ever seen before. Was that…respect she saw there now? Respect and-oh God, he was leaning down to kiss her. Just once, and ever so softly.

It took everything she had not to cling to that soft, yet firm mouth.

Yes, it was respect in his gaze; she could see that now as he pulled back. And even more irresistible, there was heart, too.

Terrifying, that heart and its emotions, because she'd never received that from anyone other than her family before. She couldn't resist. "Mike."

Slipping his fingers along her jaw, he skimmed the pad of his thumb over her lips, holding her words in. "Night, Corrine."

As she watched him drive away, standing there alone in the NASA parking lot, she had to face an uncomfortable realization.

Her life wasn't nearly as complete as she thought it was, not now that she understood some of what she was missing.