They had walked outside, Bridget trying to find Grant's gaze, which he put onto a distant ridge of hills rising dimly against the desert starscape.
Bridget said seriously, "You think I've been enticing you into the pilot job, is that it?"
Grant's glance fell to hers. "It looked that way to me. All the general's staff have to fly 'em, I thought you knew that. I don't patrol, of course."
They neared her quarters, and the shadow of the building that spilled over them was deep.
"I didn't know, Grant, believe me." Her voice carried earnestness.
"You don't have to prove it," Grant said huskily.
He had caught her hand, and then her arm slid softly around his neck. Her kiss was meant as brief, but he persuaded her differently. They clung together silently until the barracks guard had spun an about-face and headed back their way.
"Please, Grant, get someone else to go up," she whispered.
"You said you wanted a pilot who trusted you," reminded Grant. "Now, get to bed before I gig you for being out of uniform. See me tomorrow on TV."