DISTRACTION (PART I)

Angela was cursing. Loudly and quite colorfully. It made Dingo smile. He couldn't recall if her vocabulary had been quite so extensive when they first started working together. He didn't think so. He rarely swore himself, but in their line of work they dealt with plenty of people who did. Abandoning his task, he settled back against the Jeep to watch her as she continued to pat down her dusty clothing and then moved on to untangle the mess that had formerly been her twin ponytails. He often wondered why she kept her hair so long, but he'd never asked. Maybe because he was afraid she'd cut it if he did. He liked it long, he realized.

She finished detangling the second half of her hair and pulled both halves back into their neat tails. The movement of her fingers was quick and economical, with nothing wasted, but it was also elegant and graceful. Almost seductive actually. The thought startled him and his foot slid off the side of the Jeep to hit the ground.

It wasn't like Dingo didn't know Angela could be seductive. He'd watched her work over more than one merchant, and even snare a bounty, using her womanly wiles, though she never took it too far. It was just that in their day-to-day life he tried to keep his observations of her strictly platonic. After all, they were partners and roommates, nothing more. And, God, he couldn't think of much more embarrassing than the thought of her catching him calling her name in his sleep. Keep your conscious thoughts clean and your unconscious will generally keep in line – that was Dingo's general opinion on the matter.

But he had to admit she was attractive. A man would have to be blind not to see that, and even then, there was more to her than physical beauty. She was intelligent and witty and capable and– okay, a little uptight, but also genuinely fun. Her smile could light up the darkest of days, and her laughter was the sweetest music he'd ever heard.

His thoughts were turning oddly poetic and Dingo was stopped short a second time. What the heck? It wasn't like him to be so sappy. It was almost like he was in l—

Dingo frowned and pushed off the Jeep, frame straightening without conscious thought. He'd actually taken two steps toward her before he caught himself and deliberately moved back to his previous position, mind racing.

No. Couldn't be . . . Could it?

He tilted his head slightly to one side, eyes tracing her form. She'd finished with her hair and was working at her clothes again, probably collecting loose strands. She'd let off cursing and was now muttering under her breath – probably insulting him directly now, instead of just the job. He was pretty sure he'd caught the word "idiot" tossed around a few times. Insane too. Her two favorite descriptors for him.

When that thought made his chest warm and a smile stretch across his cheeks he knew he was doomed.

He was in love with his partner.

Damn. That was trouble, one way or another. Still, he couldn't say he regretted the realization. Dingo was an honest man by nature; he didn't like to lie to himself.

Lying to Angela though . . . well, he didn't like it, but in this instance it seemed to him discretion was the better part of valor. It wasn't as though he didn't have reason to keep his feelings to himself.

Angela had only been on the surface a year. There was still a lot of this world she hadn't seen and things could change at any moment. Not that Angela was fickle or prone to whimsy and rash decisions, but nothing said she had to stay with him forever.

There was also an age difference. Even setting aside the years she'd shaved off her physical body in her rush to catch Frontier Setter, there was a gap of at least five years. Something like that probably didn't matter on DEVA, but it could in the real world.

And then they lived together. That had the potential to turn very awkward. Worse, Angela might feel obligated. She wasn't, by any means, but she had a strict moral code and he still wasn't sure what all the nuances of it were. Their partnership was a benefit to both of them, but she might feel she owed him a debt.

"Dingo!"

His head whipped up at her snappish tone and he quirked a brow in question.

"Weren't you putting those away?" Her gaze shifted pointedly to the half-empty cases of heavy munitions that had been required for this job, and the miscellaneous parts he'd yet to pack back in them.

"Uh. On it." Crap. How had he let himself get so distracted?

He turned and began cleaning and storing the pieces as quickly as he could. But even still his gaze occasionally slid back toward his partner.

She caught him looking and arched a brow.

He grinned in spite of himself.

In his defense, she was pretty damn distracting.

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Dingo was staring at her, the barest hint of a smile curling the corners of his lips. It was irritating. Where did he get off taking amusement in her appearance? Especially since it was entirely his fault she was in this disheveled state. Honestly, couldn't they, just once, take a normal job? One that didn't require rolling around in the desert sand or blowing things up?

Actually, this was the surface, so probably not. Unless she wanted to stay back in town and work at the bar. Or a shop.

She grimaced at the thought. Boring.

Dingo had obediently returned to his task after her scolding, but every so often his gaze darted to her and his lips would twitch.

Like she had asked that sudden gust of wind to blow her direction moments after his explosion sent ten metric tons of sand into the air between them? Not likely.

He was working with practiced efficiency now, despite the way his eyes kept wandering. It was irritating. He was so good at everything even when he was distracted. Angela wasn't like that. Oh, she was good at everything, but she had to keep laser-like focus on the task at hand at all times.

Well, she didn't suppose she had to. She liked to. And she'd always managed it until she met him. Now she was expected to do things like keep up conversation while climbing countless ladder rungs in abandoned buildings with heavy coils of wire over her shoulder.

Okay, that part had only happened the once, but Dingo always liked to talk. He liked talking almost as much as he liked books. And music.

She couldn't see the point. It was distracting.

Not that Dingo ever seemed to have a problem with that.

Damn, he was infuriating.

Well-worn boots appeared in her field of vision, but she probably wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't spoken.

"Ange? You almost ready?"

She looked down at the bag at her feet and the mess of containers around it that she was supposed to have wiped out and stored inside. Then she shot him a murderous glare.

Dingo was Dingo, so instead of being properly cowed his smile widened.

It was hard to maintain her scowl in the face of that smile and she felt herself soften involuntarily.

Damn cowboy and his damn charm.

He dropped into a crouch and neatly stacked the containers before shoving them into the canvas bag.

Angela opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted before she got the chance.

"We'll wash them at home. The bag too. Come on." He jerked his head toward the Jeep as he shouldered the bag and she followed behind obediently, though she could feel her cheeks heating with a flush.

Damn it. She hated it when he did things like that. She could carry her own weight. And, okay, it wasn't like she'd lazed around on this job, and it wasn't a big thing that he took the bag, and she had been distracted— but he'd been distracted first! And he'd been the one to distract her too.

So, really, it was all Dingo's fault and he should be stuck with the cleanup. Because it was all his fault. So there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.

"Angela?"

With a start Angela realized she'd stopped walking at some point. Dingo was waiting with the passenger door pulled open for her – something she thought was pointless, but he said was gentlemanly.

Her cheeks heated anew and she nearly growled as she stomped forward, unaccountably irritated with him even though it was her feet that had stopped walking.

Why was he so damn distracting?

A/N: *Sheepish smile* Um . . . So, I didn't actually mean to disappear for a month without posting these again. I just sort of . . . forgot I hadn't posted them. So here's part 1 of "Distraction", followed next week by part 2, if I remember . . . Thanks for reading.

reenas-as