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utter, mouth-watering want that had roared through him when he’d stuck his hand in her glove compartment and found himself wrist-deep in sexy, feminine undergarments. The flood of images that had gone through his brain, the sweet scent lingering in the air, the silky feel against his skin. All that had combined to put him on red alert.
    Even changing her car’s battery and checking her oil had done nothing to cool him down. Because he’d thought about nothing but charging her battery and slickening up her engine.
    “I might not ever be in line to model Dior in Paris, but I bet I could sell a lot of Dr. Scholl’s at Target. So you might just be in luck when it comes to my old lady feet,” she said with a laugh. “I might even be able to pull off flip-flops at seventy and not make you want to hurl.”
    Her words brought an image to his mind—him still knowing her, all those years in the future. And for some reason, Danny didn’t laugh with her.
    Maybe it was that crazy karma thing—fate, serendipity. Whatever the reason, despite being a thirty-three-year-old bachelor, he suddenly found the idea of being with someone for that long, knowing someone that intimately, a little appealing.
    Oh, it had always appealed to him when he thought of his parents and grandparents, all of whom were alive and happy back in Chicago. But he hadn’t really given much thought to it for himself. He’d been focused on so many other things.
    First, of course, on flight. That he’d focused on from the age of five when his mechanic father had first taken him to a field beneath a landing flight path at O’Hare and he’d felt the power of a 747 shaking his small body like an earthquake.
    Then, during a family trip to Disney World, he’d gotten his dad to take him over to Kennedy to watch a shuttle launch. And he’d suddenly begun to dream about another kind of flight altogether.
    Everything he’d done since that point had been with an eye toward space.
    He knew it would take years—and he’d planned his route carefully, knowing how most astronauts made their way into the manned space flight program. He’d listed his goals—air flight, navy, NASA—and pursued them with diligence from the time he hit high school, making sure he got the grades to get into Annapolis. Succeeding at this very academy had been key. Not just for everything that would come later, but also to justify the expense and sacrifices his family had made to get him here.
    Then, on to the navy. He’d finished at the Academy, gone to Pensacola, then to Whiting.
    Then to Afghanistan.
    And there, everything had sort of fallen apart.
    Not anymore. Now he was back on track. Back on schedule.
    So why the hell was he suddenly thinking about what it might be like to grow old with someone, when his focus should be entirely on awaiting word on his application to the Astronaut Candidate Training Program?
    “Anyway, back to my little wardrobe malfunction,” she said, apparently not having noticed his distraction. “I had a run in my hose, and…”
    “You panicked.”
    “Exactly.”
    Part of him was tempted to ask her if she’d had a run in her sexy black panties, too, but he figured that might be pushing his luck.
    Besides, he didn’t want to think about her sexy black panties any more than he had to. He especially didn’t want to think about the fact that she wasn’t wearing them right now. That just wasn’t good for his sanity.
    But it was tough to turn off the mental images, knowing she wasn’t wearing a thing beneath that sinfully tight skirt. Under that simple black fabric was soft skin, curves and hollows and everything deliciously female.
    You’re an officer and a gentleman. An officer and a gentleman.
    “So I made a spur-of-the-moment decision.”
    “Sure, I get that,” he said, pulling his mind out of his own pants. “I mean, I once spilled tomato juice on my dress whites and had to go on duty in my skivvies.”
    She rolled her eyes.