Jett didn’t move, her gaze steady on Tristan’s. The choice was hers. The choice was easy. No attachments, no involvement. Being alone was safe. She’d learned that lesson a long time ago, and when she’d forgotten, she’d paid. She looked away, then back. Tristan still watched her, unwavering.

Why? What was Tristan offering, and why did she care? Why did the empty chairs at her table suddenly seem to take on life, mocking her for being a coward? Jett leaned over and pushed one of the chairs away from the table, making room for Tristan.

Seconds later, Tristan settled beside her. “I hope you’re working tonight.”

“I am,” Jett said. “Why?”

“Because there’s something seriously wrong if you came all the way to the hospital to eat this food for dinner.”

Jett looked down at her plate, realizing she hadn’t even noticed what she was eating. She always ordered the dinner special, no matter what it was. Tonight it was lasagna. “It’s not that bad. I think the law requires that cafeterias like this provide nutritionally balanced meals.”

Tristan stared. “Dog food is nutritionally balanced.”

Jett smiled. “You should try K-rations.”

“That bad?”

“Unimaginative.”

Tristan laughed.

“What about you?” Jett asked. “Come for the coffee?”

“No,” Tristan said, sounding perplexed. “I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I ended up here.”

“Not on call?”

“Not until tomorrow night. Usually every fourth or fifth, but we’re short right now. You work what, twelve-hour shifts?”

“Technically twelve on, twelve off for a week, then off for seven days and we start the rotation again. But sometimes we get called in or work longer if things are busy.”

Tristan sipped her coffee. “Always nights?”

“Technically I should alternate between days and nights, but I like nights, and I never have any problem switching for them.”

“Why nights?”

Jett shrugged. “More action.”

“That’s for sure.” Tristan grimaced. “You can pretty much figure after midnight the gates of hell are open.”

“There’s that,” Jett said. “Besides, I like to fly at night.”

“Why?”

Jett almost asked why she was asking, but when she searched Tristan’s face, all she saw was genuine interest. Like earlier.

“It’s more challenging,” Jett replied. “When you can’t see very far ahead of you, there’s always the chance you’ll run into trouble.”

“Or something good,” Tristan murmured.

“That hasn’t been my experience,” Jett said tightly.

“Things could always change.”

Before Jett could disagree, Tristan pushed her coffee cup away.

“So, do you have time to show me your aircraft? I didn’t get much of a chance to take a look last night.”

Jett didn’t need to look at the clock on the far wall to know what time it was. She always knew what time it was. Just the same, she checked it, because just being around Tristan threw her off. Besides not being able to get a handle on why Tristan sought her company, she couldn’t understand why she liked the fact that Tristan did. “I was about to go up and do my preflight check. You’re welcome to come along.”

“Okay.” Tristan stood.

“I don’t think you’ll find it very exciting.”

Tristan smiled. “You might be surprised.”

“Hi, Jett,” a surfer-boy-handsome blond in cargo pants and a tight white T-shirt, carrying a clipboard, called from beside the bright red helicopter with a white cross painted on its side.

“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.