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Cy chuckled. “Yes, she’s on our side. Thank God for hawk senators.”
Tess wrinkled her nose. “Going to speak to Senator Stockwell?”
“Of course. The cardinal rules of politics—smile, be polite, and be inoffensive.”
“I can smile, I can work at being polite. But inoffensive?” Tess groaned, throwing her head back and closing her eyes momentarily. “St. Patrick deliver me from this den of wolves I’m dining with tonight. Just don’t let me become their meal.”
“You won’t,” Cy said, laughing. One moment Tess could be so serious and adult. The next she would lapse into the naive candor he was trying to curb. “You’re much too small a fish in the political pond, so to speak. I think it would be a good idea if you acquainted yourself with the military tonight while I make the rounds. You’re familiar with the B-1 blueprints, but you haven’t made the effort to see the actual building of the plane or to acquaint yourself with the pilots who will test it.”
“I know, part of my education,” she mimicked gently. How like Cy to guide her into the next lesson in his plan. “Test pilots are far safer than politicians. I’ll welcome the change,” she returned fervently.
“They are ‘safe,’ as you say,” Cy nodded. “Most of them are fairly taciturn. They’re taught to test and observe. Chances are you’ll have to carry the conversation with them unless you get them talking on the B-1.”
“That’s fine with me.”
The California night was warm for October. Cy proudly escorted his tall, lissome wife into the lobby of the elegant hotel in downtown Los Angeles. Guiding her with a sureness born of his status and position in the company, he motioned Tess into the brass elevator.
Tess nervously hid her damp hands by burying them in the shawl against her breast. Inwardly she steeled herself, fighting back the panic that would fill her the instant the doors opened. Life had been so simple back on campus. The moment she married Cy, she had stepped into an unfamiliar, changing landscape. A landscape that she feared she would never be at home in.
* * *
Captain Shepherd Ramsey rested his lean, wiry body against the wall. With his back protected, he idly scanned the milling crowd of people. This was a black-tie dinner. A slight deprecating smile pulled at his well-chiseled lips. The blue of his Air Force uniform stood out against the black tuxedos of the civilians present. Black and blue, he thought wryly. A lot of bruises. Plenty of infighting between the Hill and us. He inhaled deeply and released his breath slowly, continuing to scan the crowd. It looked like a gathering of beautifully colored birds with the women present. He spotted gowns by Halston, Yves St. Laurent, Geoffrey Beene and others whose names he was sure his wife was memorizing. Raising one dark brown brow, he lifted his strong chin, searching the crowd for Allyson.
He caught sight of his wife carrying on an animated conversation with a staffer from Senator Diane Browning’s office. The staffer had probably been sent ahead to check out the atmosphere of the dinner since Browning was due to drop in unexpectedly on a courtesy visit sometime during the evening. Shep lifted his Scotch to his lips, sipping the smooth golden liquid. He didn’t know which he disliked more: staffers or the politicians themselves. But, they were a fact of life.
Major Tom Cunningham, another test pilot, ambled over. He matched Shep’s six-foot height, looking almost like a brother to the captain. The major’s light brown eyes darkened with silent laughter. He stood easily at Shep’s right arm. “Well, what do you think of this shindig?” he asked in his Arkansas drawl.
Shep shrugged his broad shoulders. “Boring as hell but necessary.”
“Kinda reminds me of the good ole days when chickens were pick’n’dough out of a bread pan. See how the less important ones are orbiting the staffers? God, the intrigue is so damn thick in here I could cut it with a knife.”
“Yes, and Allyson is in all her glory.”
Tom raised his head. “Don’t knock it, buddy. She probably helped get you into test pilot school with her manuevering. It doesn’t hurt to have a politically savvy Air Force wife.”
Shep frowned, not liking the thought that Allyson might have been responsible for his acceptance to the test pilot school at Edwards Air Force Base. He also heard the wistful note in Tom’s voice and turned to his friend. Tom had lost his wife to cancer two years before. It had been hell on all of them. Shep had stood by his Air Force Academy brother through it all. Had that been the beginning of the end of his marriage with Allyson? She had complained mightily of his absence at parties when he stayed with Tom at the hospital.
He moved the ice cubes around in his scotch, lapsing into thought. Allyson. Beautiful, poised, cosmopolitan Allyson. At twenty-eight he found it difficult to explain why he had married her. Why couldn’t he have had a relationship like Tom and Marie’s? They had been devoted to each other. And he’d enjoyed being with them because of the warmth that flowed between them and out to all those around them. But Allyson always chafed at the bit when he wanted to go over to their home for dinner. It was all right to spend a certain amount of time with Tom, she informed him, because he was a major. And after all, Shep should be seen with higher ranking men, but there was no need to spend so much of their time with the other couple.
It was in the closing days of Marie’s illness that Shep realized he didn’t love Allyson. At least not in the way he had wanted to love his wife. Tom had remained at Marie’s side constantly, holding her hand, talking soothingly to her. It was Tom’s ability to reach out and touch, that same holding, touching, and sharing Shep valued and missed, but Allyson deemed it inconsequential.
After Marie’s death both he and Tom had gotten orders to test pilot school. Shep had breathed a deep sigh of relief, glad that Tom’s grief would be consumed in the demanding rigors of the schooling. It was their shared grief over Marie’s death and then the help they’d given each other during the grueling training course that welded them into an inseparable team.
Shep glanced over at his friend, an undisguised smile on his mouth. “They do look like a bunch of chickens don’t they? All scrambling around, clucking and squawking.”
Cunningham grinned wickedly. “For a city boy, you’re learnin’, son. We got a couple of big dawgs coming tonight. I’m kinda wait’n’ to see if Browning and Stockwell show up at the same time. Wouldn’t that be something? Prodefense woman senator meets anti-defense male chauvinist. Some feathers ought to fly over that confrontation.”
“Conflagration is more like it,” Shep growled. “Stockwell has his head up his—”
“Easy, son. Remember, we’re just measly ole test pilots. We don’t get asked our politics or party preferences.” He rubbed his hands together. “And frankly, I can hardly wait to get my hands on the stick of that B-1. Pure sex, son. Yes, sir, pure sex to fly that bomber.”
Shep laughed deeply. “You damn Arkansas hillbilly.”
“And you stand there with that bland look on your face and tell me you ain’t excited about gett’n’ in that bomber too? You might fool most people, Ramsey. But you don’t fool me. Beneath that cool Maine facade of yours beats a red-blooded heart and soul. Hell, it’s a good thing you have me around to knock down some of those walls you like to hide behind. Get you loosened up a little.”
“Look, people from Maine are supposed to be unreadable,” he argued in good-natured defense. “I can’t help it if you always seem to be able to read me anyway.”
Tom nodded his head sagely. “All I gotta do, boy, is look in them gray eyes of yours and I got you by the throat. Funny, Allyson can’t read you the way I can.”
That was true, Shep thought. Allyson spent all her time scheming over the future. She never wasted time on small but important moments in the present. How many times had he wanted to share the beauty of a pale apricot sunset or a silvered mass of clouds struck by the sun? Too many times, a voice admitted deep within him.
“Hey ...” Tom exclaimed, nudging Shep’s elbow. “Who is that delicious-look’n’ lady that just stepped through the doors? My God, I think I’m in love.”
Shep looked up toward the entrance. And for a frozen instant in time he felt as if someone had stolen the breath from his body. She was dressed in a long ivory gown delicately touched with lace. The high Victorian collar only accentuated the old-fashioned aura surrounding her. She was a complete contrast to the chic modern women here and the contrast struck him deeply. His eyes traveled from the slender lines of her gown, across her small, firm breasts, to her face.
“Damn,” Tom breathed. “Isn’t she—”
“Beautiful,” Shep finished, straightening up. Trained to observe, he noticed that every male in the place had turned and looked at the woman. Shep’s eyes narrowed as he detected a certain tenseness in her porcelain features. Her eyes, the incredible azure blue of the sky, were wide, almost child-like as she nervously glanced around. His body tightened with desire as he watched her mouth. Her lips were full, slightly parted, and incredibly expressive. Dark auburn tendrils curled at her temples, softening the severity of her simple hairdo. Why did she wear her hair like that? Shep had no trouble imagining that dark mass flowing freely across her shapely shoulders. He noticed she was gripping her husband’s arm tightly. Didn’t the man realize how frightened and uncomfortable she was? Shep frowned, squaring his shoulders. Compared to the sleekly dressed women here at the party she seemed to be out of place, part of another time.
“Darling…”
Shep tore his gaze from the woman and reluctantly turned toward his wife. Allyson smiled brightly. Her green eyes were narrowed and intent as she breathlessly glided up to Shep. She curled her lacquer-tipped fingers around his hand. “Look who’s here. Now that’s someone you need to know.” Allyson cast a brief, plastic smile at the major. “Hello, Tom.”
“Allyson. How are you tonight?”
She laughed gaily. “Fine. Just fine. Now Shep, you have to go over with me and I’ll introduce you. That’s Cyril Hamilton and his wife, Tess. He’s the chief engineer for the aeronautical portion of the B-1 and she’s his administrative assistant. Although,” Allyson drawled in her best whiskey voice for added dramatic effect, “everyone knows he’s grooming her to replace him someday in the Rockwell hierarchy.”
Shep glanced down at his black-haired wife. “Oh really? And how do you know that?”
Allyson shrugged her shoulders in a very eloquent fashion. Her emerald green gown fit her petite figure beautifully, bringing each luscious curve to full ripeness. Shep looked again at Tess Hamilton. The difference was frightening. Alluring.
“Darling, I make it my business to know who’s in and who’s out on this project. I’ve been dying to meet Cy! You’ll be working directly under him so you might as well come and let me introduce you.”
“Correction, Aly, he’s working for us, remember? This is an Air Force project and Rockwell is the contractor.”
She pouted. “But that doesn’t really matter. He’s a VIP and you want him on your side. You have to work together; that’s the bottom line.”
Shep slipped his hand beneath his wife’s elbow. She loved to irritate him by dodging certain facts. He turned to Tom. “See you a little later, buddy.”
Cunningham smiled politely, resuming his Air Force officer demeanor. “Later,” he agreed.
A staffer from the Hill came up, grabbing Cy’s large, fleshy hand and pumping it expertly. Tess remained at her husband’s side, keeping her eyes lowered most of the time, terribly unsure of herself. Sensing the approach of more strangers, Tess raised her head. Her heart pulsed erratically as her eyes met and locked with the smoky gray gaze of the man who stood before her. Bits and pieces of information whirled through her mind—the Air Force blue of his uniform, his gentle gray eyes assessing her with keen curiosity, his intense masculinity.
Her lips parted as she saw him smile down at her. It was a reassuring smile, telling her silently that she was safe with him. Tess was unable to tear her gaze from his face; she felt mesmerized by the gentle strength she saw there. His hair was a dark umber brown, neatly trimmed, with a few rebellious strands that refused to stay in place dipping down on his brow. He was a lone eagle, her imagination whispered. Indeed, he did look like an eagle with his gray eyes and black, penetrating pupils. His face was lean, like the rest of him, and oval, with a strong chin. His eyes were wide-set and alertly intelligent. His nose was aquiline, adding to his hawklike appearance. If it weren’t for the fact that his well-chiseled lips turned up at the corners, she would have been frightened of him initially. There was a calculating coolness in him that was softened by his smile.
She barely heard the introductions. The woman at the captain’s side had deftly maneuvered between her and Cy. Tess raised her hand automatically to greet the strangers. She was aware of the officer’s long, spare fingers wrapping around the damp coolness of her own. He murmured something, inclining his head forward, his eyes never leaving her flushed features.
“Tess, why don’t you spend some time with Captain Ramsey?”
Tess blinked once, tearing her gaze from the officer. “What?” she barely whispered, her throat constricted. Cy offered her a paternal smile as Allyson draped herself over his arm. “Why don’t you and Captain Ramsey talk about the B-1? I’m sure he’d like to know the progress on the defensive avionics system. That contract was just awarded and I’m sure he’d be interested in some of the details.” Her heart was pounding as Captain Ramsey placed her arm under his own. Immediately she sensed his controlled strength. Tess was intensely aware of his maleness. Why was he affecting her so strongly? Her mind gyrated out of control as she compared him to Cy. The love she and Cy shared was quiet, uneventful, and devoted. This officer was creating a firestorm within her suddenly aroused senses. And more than anything, Tess knew he was aware of the effect that he had upon her. She felt terribly unsure of herself as he led her adroitly through the milling crowd. Tess regretted her lack of experience with men. Why had she stuck her head in books all those years? Why hadn’t she developed outside relationships? Because you were scared, too afraid, she told herself. And now…now this officer was affecting her like some lost and forgotten aphrodisiac. Her body knew. But her mind refused to admit it.
Oddly, Tess felt safe with him. She didn’t know why. He seemed to intuitively know how to make her feel more secure in these surroundings. More secure around him.
He leaned down, his features mobile and readable. It surprised Tess because he had seemed distant an instant before. “Would you like a drink? Looks like you could use one.”
She responded immediately to the intimate, quiet quality of his husky voice. She managed a nervous smile. “I—yes. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to appear so flighty. It’s just that…” Tess saw him nod, his fingers briefly squeezing her arm.
“You don’t belong here,” was all he said. “Wait by the balcony doors. What do you drink?”
Her heart was skipping beats. Tess groaned inwardly as she blushed a second time. “Just wine.”
Shep stood there, drinking in the sight of her upturned, flushed face. She couldn’t be any more beautiful in that moment. Her blue eyes were wide and trusting, her lips were like rare, dark pink flower petals. She was looking to him for protection and that was something he wanted to give her. It would be easy to bestow it on her. He heard the uncertainty of her soft wispy voice. It sent an unnamed quiver through his taut body. “Red or white? What about champagne?”
Tess laughed softly. “Not champagne or I’m afraid you’ll find me under some table.”
He smiled. “Okay. We don’t need you under a table. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Tess watched him turn and walk away, her knees feeling weak. Was it the aura of power at this gathering or simply the presence of Captain Shepherd Ramsey that was making her feel like this? She had to get hold of herself, regardless. Gripping her small evening bag until her knuckles whitened, Tess tried to calm her nerves.
He was never out of sight, even though he had left her side. She was amazed at his calmness. He walked like a panther prowling disinterestedly through the clusters of people, head held high, aloof, unique. Were all test pilots like that? Such men had charisma, she knew. It was the glamor job of the Air Force, but Ramsey’s appeal went deeper than that.
She took a deep, steadying breath, realizing that she was glad to be in his care. With him, she could relax.
Chapter 2
“YOU KNOW, FOR A PARTY THIS SIZE, YOU’D THINK THEY’D have wine at the bar.” Shep apologetically handed her the glass of champagne and gave her a wry smile. “Guess we’ll have to make sure you don’t go under the table.”
Tess reached for the glass, her fingers making contact with his own. A pleasurable tingle went up her arm. Had he hesitated before pulling away? So much was happening that she was unable to be certain of anything where he was concerned. “That’s all right, Captain Ramsey,” she heard herself say, “I’ll just hold it. That way everyone will think I’m imbibing.”
“I see. Play the game, is that it?” He pushed open the balcony door, guiding her out onto the tile patio.
“I find game playing very taxing, Captain.”
He pulled her gently to a stop at the waist-high stone balustrade. As much as he wanted to keep holding her arm, he allowed his hand to drop to his side. He had read fear in her eyes upon first meeting her. Was she unsure of herself with men? Looking down at her youthful features, he knew the answer to that. “Call me Shep,” he urged. He turned and leaned against the still sun-warmed stone which overlooked the glittering valley of Los Angeles. “You couldn’t play a game if you tried,” he said, amusement tinging his voice. “Your eyes give you away.”
She took a gulp of the champagne, resting against the balcony, facing him. He was so close… “Cy has told me again and again to maintain a poker face.” She chewed on her lower lip, completely crushed by the fact that Shep could read her so easily.
Shep turned his head toward her. “Why?” he asked, perplexed. Why take away her natural spontaneity? He watched a variety of emotions flit across her features. Her skin was a flawless peach color, her nose and cheeks lightly sprinkled with freckles. He noted with pleasure that she wore little makeup; she made no attempt to hide those telltale freckles. He smiled to himself. Despite her uncertainty in these surroundings, she was not afraid to show her individuality.
Nervously, Tess took another gulp of champagne. “Administrative assistants are supposed to know how to deal effectively with every management situation. And with aplomb. Part of it is controlling your body language and facial expressions.”
Shep grinned. “Whoa ... if I don’t hear an MBA talking, I’ll eat my wings.”
Tess laughed liltingly. She liked his smile. It was devastating. “Are all test pilots as perceptive as you are, Shep?”
“You aren’t going to fall into the trap of stereotyping test pilots, are you? How long have you been with Rockwell and the B-1 program?”
She shrugged. “Two years. I joined the company after coming out of Harvard with my MBA.” She gave him a mischievous look. “See, you were right. I do have an MBA. And if it isn’t your perceptiveness that told you that, then you’re reading my mind.”
“I’m reading your mind,” he returned. “You’re easy to read.” God was she easy to read! He had to keep himself from becoming too familiar with her. It was too easy to let down all his shields and simply be himself. He found himself wanting to tease her playfully, to make her eyes glint with the laughter he had seen dancing in their depths moments earlier. “Can I get personal for a moment?” he asked.
She regarded him solemnly for a long second. Finally, she inclined her head forward. “Yes.”
“I was just wondering if your family was Irish.”
Tess gave a sigh of relief. He could have asked her anything, and she would have found herself giving the answer. Shep was someone whom she could easily confide in. “One hundred percent. My great-grandparents came from a small seacoast village in southern Ireland.”
“The land of fishermen and potato farmers?” he teased gently.
“And don’t forget, Ireland raises some of the finest Thoroughbreds in the world too. It’s a country with many faces.” Tess finished the champagne, placing the glass on the rail in front of her. The momentary silence lengthened between them as they both gazed out over the dark valley. “L.A. is so huge,” she murmured finally, almost to herself. “I wish we lived out in the country.”
“You’re a woman who would rather stick her toes into the warm earth instead of dressing elegantly for parties like this.”
She grimaced. “Tell me about it! Cy cringes every time I put my hair into braids.”
Shep turned, studying her. “Oh? Somehow I picture you being very comfortable in a pair of well-worn jeans instead of designer clothes.”
“That’s true.” She gave him a searching look. “How could you know that?”
He raised the glass of Scotch to his mouth and took a sip. “How old are you, Tess? Do you mind if I call you by your first name?”
She shivered in response to the sound of her name on his tongue. “No, I’d love it. I hate standing on formality. And to answer your question, I’m twenty-four.”
“I thought so,” he murmured.
That secretive grin of his got to her and she laughed. “What does that mean?”
“Hmm, just that you’ve probably spent all your adult life in the ivory towers of higher education. You haven’t had much of a chance to mingle with people on a purely social level. And the fact that you got your MBA when you were twenty-two implies that you jumped a couple of grades somewhere along the line”—he shook his head in a rueful gesture—”which means you probably didn’t get much time to grow up.”
Tess nodded. “Ever since I can remember, my parents had me in some sort of school. I guess they discovered I was bright when I was around two years old.” She shrugged her shoulders. “From then on, it was a matter of bringing out my gifts.”
“Don’t sound unhappy about it,” Shep soothed. “And certainly don’t apologize for your intelligence.” He grinned suddenly. “Even if you are a woman,” he taunted without rancor.
Tess placed a hand on her hip, lifting her chin in defiance. “You’re a chauvinist after all, Captain!”
Shep held up his hand. “No way, lady. We’ve got women in all phases of the Air Force, even flying planes. There’s talk that someday we’ll have women test pilots. No, I’m a believer in what women can do. Peace?”
Tess tried to stare him down and then burst out into laughter. “Fair enough.”
Shep warmed to her bell-like laughter. He took a deep breath, captivated by her unstudied loveliness. What was she doing here? She was like a flower on the desert, natural, unpretentious. Was her powerful, influential husband trying to mold her into someone like Allyson? The thought chilled him.
He observed her dispassionately for a moment, trying to be objective and finding it difficult.
He could not fault her on beauty or personality, and certainly she was very intelligent. Her only flaw was that she did not belong. But was it right to curb her naturalness? To rob her of that effortless laughter, the sparkle in the depths of her blue eyes, just so she would fit in? No, he told himself. No. A sense of despair settled over him. He looked at her again. There was nothing he could do. She was married. And so was he. He felt a knife twisting in his heart. Tess was the kind of woman he had hungered for all his life. The thought jolted him.
“Shep?”
He frowned. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I was thinking.”
