Adam—the oldest instructor and a former astronaut himself—gave a secret kind of smile. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes that’s the best attitude. The winning attitude. You don’t have room in your mind to think it won’t actually happen.’

Corrine sighed and ran her finger around the edge of her glass. She’d changed her mind about the gin. A spritzer would have hit the mark much better. She reached over for an empty wine glass on the table and filled it up with some white wine sitting in a cooler next to Marcia.

‘What’s the deal with the call sign anyway? Shouldn’t it be something much cooler?’

‘Like what?’ Frank took a swig of his beer and shifted in his seat.

‘You know, like Maverick or Viper or Cougar or... Lightning.’ She was grasping at straws now.

Frank shook his head. ‘You watch way too many movies, Corrine.’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘But why Bates? It’s not anything like his name. And it’s kind of boring.’

Frank laughed. ‘Oh, that’s easy.’ Then he shook his head. ‘And it’s certainly not boring.’

She wrinkled her nose. Frank had been a Top Gun instructor too. Maybe it was some weird navy thing she didn’t know about.

He held out his hand towards her. ‘Let me expand it a little for you. Bates. Norman Bates.’

Corrine blinked and glanced from person to person around the table. Everyone else seemed to have caught on immediately. ‘What do you mean? That he’s crazy?’

The others started to laugh.

‘But that’s impossible. Our pilots undergo complete psychological evaluations. We can’t have anyone that’s a risk taker. That could compromise the mission.’

Adam shook his head. ‘Oh, he’s not crazy. But he’s made some of the gutsiest flight moves I’ve ever seen. That’s how he earned his call sign. And we need people that can make good decisions under pressure—even when it seems like the chips are down. If Austin Mitchell makes it to the space station I think he’ll be a great asset to our programme.’ He raised his glass. ‘I’d even take bets on him making it.’

Marcia shook her head. ‘I’m not taking that bet. He’s too good.’

Frank shook his head too. ‘Me either. I know a shoo-in when I see one.’

Corrine started to get annoyed. Everyone seemed to think this guy was great. They hadn’t seen the gleam of arrogance in his eyes. The one that had prickled her senses in all the wrong places. There were some catcalls from the other side of the bar. A little tremor danced down her spine but there was no way she was turning around.

‘Uh-oh.’ Marcia smiled as she pushed her glass around the table. ‘It looks like Superboy is on his way over.’

She couldn’t help it. Corrine turned towards the bar. Austin Mitchell was walking straight towards them. No. Straight towards her. His eyes locked with hers. That darn white uniform showed off the width of his shoulders and chest. The gold on his epaulettes gleamed at her. But the thing that freaked her out most was the confident grin on his face.

He held out his hand towards her as he gave a brief nod to the others at the table. ‘Dr Carter. Would you like to dance?’

Her mouth almost fell open. It was right up there with things least likely to expect.

She almost choked. ‘What?’ She could hear a stifled snigger behind her.

She looked around the bar. The music was audible, but low—and there was no dance floor. It just wasn’t that kind of place.

His bright blue eyes were fixed on hers. She hadn’t been able to see them properly in the dark hangar. Which was probably just as well, because right now she was getting the full hypnotic effect. The artificial lights in the bar seemed perfect for showing them at their best.

‘Dance,’ he said calmly, as if she’d misunderstood.

There was a nudge at her back. Frank was almost willing her to go. But the nudge lit a little flare inside her. How dared he? How dared he approach her so directly in front of all her colleagues—his instructors—and practically ask her out? Didn’t the guy have any decorum?

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t want to dance.’ She couldn’t hide the disdain in her voice. The coil inside was tightening. She’d wanted to relax tonight—not put herself in an uncomfortable position.

Her earlier comment about him not being a boy had already been misinterpreted by her colleagues. Now, they might actually think something was going on. That was the last thing she needed. She’d only been at WSSA for a few years. This was her first astronaut candidate selection. Her position and job meant everything to her. She’d put her life on hold for it. She didn’t want anything to interfere.

Austin was still standing smiling at her. It was almost as if he hadn’t heard her say no.

She stood up quickly and tugged at her skirt, pulling it back into position. She gave him a sharp stare. ‘That would be a no, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell. Now, if you’d excuse me, myself and your other instructors need to have conversations that you can’t be party to.’

She gave him a nod as she brushed past. It was important that he respect her position on the team. It was important that he realised she wouldn’t be compromised. No matter how good he looked in that uniform. She could see all the expectant faces of the rest of the candidates in the background. They were watching with interest. Waiting to see what she would do. Did any of them actually think she might say yes?

The hairs on his arms came into contact with her skin. Ignore it. Her brain repeated the message as she walked towards the ladies’ room. Her skin was on fire. A thousand little caterpillars were currently marching across that tiny patch of skin. She couldn’t help it—her other hand automatically reached across and rubbed it as she banged the ladies’ room door open with her hip.

Cold water. That was what she needed right now. Anything that would stop the persistent fire caused by Austin Mitchell from circulating around her body.

* * *

There was a whoop behind him as Corrine brushed past him as if he didn’t exist. He’d seen it. That little flicker in her eyes. It wasn’t panic. She wasn’t the type. The disbelief he’d almost expected, but hesitation he hadn’t. Was there the tiniest chance she might have said yes?

He shrugged and gave a rueful smile to the other instructors. Adam winked. He knew exactly what was going on. Traditions didn’t just exist amongst Top Gun pilots—WSSA candidates had a whole book of their own.

Frank stood up. ‘Excuse me, folks. Back in a bit.’ His face looked a bit pinched.

Austin watched him head to the gents’. Was he annoyed with him? He moved back and put a twenty on the bar. ‘Get another round,’ he said to Michael.

Michael lifted the twenty and waved to the bartender. ‘Crashed and burned.’ He laughed at Austin. ‘Get used to it. Corrine Carter looked mad.’

Austin stared at the swinging door of the gents’. It was weird. His parents used to tease him as a kid—they’d told him that his spider sense was tingling whenever he’d had an instinct about things. They’d learned quickly he was always right—even when everything seemed fine. It had served him well on his tours of duty and on his test flights. Knowing when something just wasn’t quite right with a plane or mission had saved him on more than one occasion.

And tonight his spider sense was busy creating a full-on web.

He strode towards the gents’. What was the worst that could happen? Frank would tear a few strips off him for his stunt. He was a big boy. He could take it easily.

The door swung open. Frank hadn’t even made it to a cubicle. His hand was leaning on the wall above one of the urinals. Austin quickly averted his eyes—last thing he needed to do was watch another man take a leak.

But his instincts were on overtime. Darn it. He looked again. Frank hadn’t even managed to unzip his trousers. His other hand was resting on his chest.

‘Frank? You okay?’