"This is wrong"

He tucked his hands into his pockets. "I like pilots who run off at the mouth." (Especially pretty ones like yours).

"You wouldn't be referring to my rambling during our time in the air the other day, would you? Because all I wanted was to keep you from jumping out the door at five thousand feet."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "And you did a fine job, captain Tait. I arrived home in one piece, which made my son immensely happy."

Those keen eyes sobered. She looked away.

"What?" he asked, sensing a subtle change in her demeanor.

She shook her head, glanced at the window. "I should be going."

"You were thinking about what I told you. About my family."

She didn't answer. She didn't need to. He knew the information was in her mind. And she pitied him.

"I don't need your emotional charity, Lee," he said. "Or anyone's. That's not why I moved here."

"Why did you move?" she asked softly.

"To make a new life." And then he understood. "Ah. You think I came to escape."

"What I think is moot. We all have our reasons and means for escaping the ugliness of life. Is yours better or worse than mine?" A shrug. "look, I have to get some paper work done." With a small smile, she held up a clipboard he had missed. "See you around."

She was out the door before he could move.

"wait."

Key in her door, she shoved it open. "You don't need to explain, Mr.Matt. Your life is your business and I have a habit of intruding."

He shook his head. They were on the tiniest stairwell landing in existence. Emanating from her hair was a blend sea, sunshine and strawberry shampoo. And those golden freckles on her cheeks.... His fingers flexed at his sides, craving a simple touch.

"First," he rasped, voice alien to his ears. "It's Rogan. Second.... You're right. About everything." Her gaze hung on his. Her lips parted with a soft breath.

He wanted to kiss her, more than he'd wanted to kiss a woman in a long, long while. His head bowed, moved in the direction of her mouth. He could hear the hitch of her breath, feel it strike his chin. A current arced between them, hot and searing and electrifying.

"Rogan," she murmured. "No." The word came as softly as the hand she laid against the pocket of his shirt, where his heart thrummed. "This is wrong."

"Wrong?" The heat of her singed his lips.

With a slow head shake, she edged back. "we've barely met and.... I'm not looking for someone right now."

Right now. Did that mean she'd be receptive later? The question whirled in his mind as he studied her features. She had the most beautiful eyes. Wide and dark-lashed, which seemed incongruous to her fair coloring. Upon closer examination, he realised black rings circled her irises, tiny barricades defending green gems.

Lifting a hand, he touched a nest of freckles on her cheek.

Her throat worked. "I need to prepare for my next flight," she said hoarsely. And then she was gone, inside her apartment, and he was staring at the peephole in her door.