Goddess of the Sea (Goddess Summoning #1)(14)

But Sean's grin didn't fade. "Actually, no. Like the rest of these guys, I'm stationed at the Air National Guard Unit in Tulsa, Oklahoma." He leaned forward and glanced around like they were sharing a secret. "We do things a little differently in the Guard. So just plain Sean is okay with me."

CC didn't know what to say. Of course she knew there was an Air Guard Fighter Unit in Tulsa—her Comm Center had sent and received messages from them several times during the past three months. But she'd never met any of the pilots. Actually, the only fighter pilots she'd ever met had been stationed at her last duty assignment, Peterson AFB, Colorado. They had been arrogant and conceited and had not impressed CC or her girlfriends at all. She couldn't imagine any of them insisting she call them by their first names, at least not in daylight. Thankfully, she was saved from answering Sean by the appearance of the master sergeant who had herded her on to the plane.

"Okay gentlemen," he said, glancing at CC and adding, "and ladies. We're fixin' to get underway. I shouldn't have to tell such a distinguished group to buckle up and stow your carry-ons, but I thought I'd better remind you since you're not used to riding in the back seats." He chuckled at his lame joke as he made his way slowly through the cargo bay, checking the security of the pallets and the pilots. The pilots paid him about as much attention as did the pallets.

CC sighed as the numbing noise of the giant, rotating propellers started to vibrate through the plane. The sound made her realize that she had left her earplugs in her carry-on. CC unsnapped her seat belt and crouched down to pull her carry-on out from underneath the seat, and as she was feeling around in the side pocket her eyes traveled to the wall behind her seat. Her brow furrowed in confusion. That was odd; she hadn't noticed before that framing her seat were two thick, red stripes painted on the inside wall of the plane. Between these stripes were stenciled in bright red the words DANGER and PROPELLER, over and over.

"Sarg, you need to stow that and take your seat." The master sergeant had made his way over to her.

CCgrabbed her earplugs, shoved the bag back and regained her seat. But when the master sergeant tried to walk on down the bay, she called him back.

"Sergeant," she almost had to yell to be heard over the propeller noise. "What do those red lines and words mean?" She pointed over her shoulder.

"That's marking where the propeller would come through the aircraft if we was to throw one." He grinned, showing her a wealth of yellow teeth. "But that don't happen very often." He laughed and moved on.

CC wasn't sure if she should cry or scream—but her body had suddenly frozen solid, so she found she was only able to sit there, ramrod straight and perfectly still.

Across the aisle Sean had overheard the whole exchange. He grimaced to himself as he watched the little sergeant's face turn a ghostly shade of white, which only made her big amber eyes look more fawnlike and appealing. She was such a small, young thing. She'd already looked a little scared when she'd bumped her head and stumbled into the plane, and now she looked practically terrified. Something inside of him lurched insistently.

"CC," he called to her.

She didn't respond.

"CC," he repeated, noting the glazed look in her eyes when they finally met his. "Would you trade seats with me? I hate flying on this side of the plane." He thought for a second, then added. "It's one of those weird pilot superstitions." He shrugged helplessly, like he was ashamed to admit it.

"Trade seats with you?" she asked as if she hadn't heard him correctly.

"Yep. I'd sure appreciate it." He beamed his best nice-guy smile at her.

"I suppose so," she said slowly. "If you really want to."

"I really want to," he said.

"Okay then."

He unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed his flight bag from under the seat. Before she could get her own carry-on, he crossed the ten feet or so that separated them.

"I'll get that for you," he said, taking the bag from her.

CC looked up at him. This close he was even more gorgeous. And just how tall was he? His muscular body seemed to stretch on forever. His short, military cut hair was a medium shade of blond, shot with glistening streaks that looked like they had been dipped in the sun. Actually, his whole body, or at least what could be seen peeking out of his flight suit, looked like he had been blessed by the god of the sun. Unlike so many blonds, he wasn't washed-out looking. Instead he was an irresistible shade of golden tan. His face was made of strong, square lines, and his lips… CC felt herself staring and she jerked her gaze from those amazing lips to his soft, brown eyes, which were smiling down at her.

"Thank you," she managed to stammer.

"Not a problem. Actually, you're doing me a favor." He took her elbow and guided her to his seat.

"Always the gentleman, ain't ya, Apollo." The master sergeant scoffed as he passed back by the two of them. "Just get her in that seat, then get yourself into yours. We're ready to get the hell outta here."

CC hurried to sit down, then she sent a questioning glance up at Sean.

"Apollo?" she asked.

"That's my call sign." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Believe me, it wasn't my idea."

"Oh," was all CC could make her mouth say. It might not have been his idea, but it was certainly appropriate. The man oozed Greek god.