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“About what?”
He took a good stiff drink of the scotch, looking back over the scintillating night lights of L. A. When he didn’t answer, she moved closer, until mere inches separated them. Groaning inwardly, he wondered if she knew what she was doing to him. One look at her worried face, and he knew it was a guiless gesture on her part. There was a genuine concern registering in her eyes. She had seen his agony. Damn! He forced himself to adopt a mask of cool, calm composure.
Tess reached out, touching his arm momentarily. “I know, you’re thinking about the B-1! Are you worried about the flight date? That we won’t make the June 1974 commitment? I’ll bet you can hardly wait to fly the bomber.”
He gave her a tight smile, forcing himself not to react to her touch. It was as if a butterfly had briefly grazed his arm. His mind was running rampant, unchecked. What would it be like to kiss those full lips? To feel her response to him? She might be married, but he guessed that her husband had never fully brought out her ability to love. Angrily Shep cut off all thoughts of wanting her…needing her. It took every fiber of his being to do so. “I understand that the avionics contract was just awarded,” he answered, his voice carefully neutral, slightly strained.
“Yes, it was. But I would think you’d be more interested in the Preliminary Flight Rating Test which will take place in March.”
Shep put a tight leash on his emotions as he turned to drink in the sight of her upturned features. Her eyes…oh, God, he could lose himself in the depths of her warm blue eyes. “I am interested,” he agreed. “The PFRT is the last test before we actually place the engines in the bomber.” Did his voice sound like a monotone to her too? It sounded flat, uninterested. Hell, he wanted to discuss anything with her other than business. He wanted to know about her, her background, her likes and dislikes. His mind leaped from one question to another.
But before he could formulate any of them, they were interrupted by the waiter calling them to dinner. Shep slipped his arm around her small waist and led her slowly back to the opened doors. “Thanks for coming out here with me,” he said, meaning it.
She looked up at him. He was incredibly handsome in the dim light. The silver bars of his rank glimmered on his broad shoulders. The feel of his hand against her waist seemed so right. It had been natural to turn toward his body and fall in step beside him while they walked. His touch was firm, knowing. Her flesh tingled where his fingers rested, and Tess was incapable of stilling her singing heart. “I have a feeling we’re both the same,” she said. “You don’t like these parties any more than I do. You certainly appear to be more at ease here than I, but you strike me as a man who prefers the company of a few close friends and family.” Shep ushered her into the large, brightly lit room. Reluctantly he dropped his hand from her waist, keeping it on her elbow instead. “Are you sure you aren’t mind reading now?” he teased gently, meeting her gaze.
The intimate huskiness in his voice caused her to blush. She felt as if he had caressed her. What was happening? Again, that same sensation of confusion and heady excitement deluged her.
Shep was suddenly aware of an excitement that rippled through the gathering. He pulled Tess to a halt at the edge of the milling crowd, spotting Senator Diane Browning of California. She entered with a group of staffers, camera people and several other hangers-on. He leaned over and whispered intimately, “Here’s the gal who’s fighting for us in the Senate. Have you ever met Senator Browning?”
Tess stood on tiptoe to catch sight of the woman. She smiled up at Shep. “Cy talks about her all the time. I’ve never met her personally, just some of her staffers from time to time. She’s terribly attractive, isn’t she?”
He smiled to himself. Tess didn’t see the ramrod way Browning carried herself or the way the senator jutted out that strong chin of hers. She saw only the tasteful business suit the older woman wore and the golden hair knotted severely in a chignon. “She looks a little like you,” he confided to Tess.
“Now I know you’re flirting, captain.” Her blue eyes sparkled with merriment.
He grinned. “And I just paid you a compliment. A sincere one, I might add. Although you’re far more beautiful than she could ever be.”
Tess blushed fiercely, unable to hold his gray gaze. Intuitively she knew that Shep Ramsey didn’t go around flirting haphazardly. No, there was a quietness to him, a central core that many people did not reach. He was more introvert than extrovert although he had extended himself to make her comfortable. “I suppose the senator and I wear our hair in a chignon because it looks more businesslike. That way the men we have to work with deal with us on a professional level.”
“Did Harvard teach you that?” he drawled, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth.
It was her turn to give an impish grin. “No. I learned that the hard way.”
Shep looked at the reddish-gold highlights of her hair. The desire to loosen the carefully hidden pins and allow that fiery mass to tumble free was tempting. “A pity. Frankly I think you would look devastating with your hair down. There isn’t a man here who wouldn’t succumb to your beauty.”
She felt her heart soar. Something in his voice—the husky inference in it—made her deliciously aware of being a woman. Tess was confused. Cy had never made her feel so desirable, so…. She frowned. Shep Ramsey made her feel the power of her own femininity. That discovery frightened her badly. Taking a step away from him she murmured, “1 think it’s time I found Cy. It looks as though they’re going to begin seating all of us.”
Shep maintained his distance, realizing he had made her uncomfortable. “I think I see your husband and my wife. Come on, I’ll escort you over to them.”
As they approached, Allyson gave him a dazzling smile, her hand still draped casually on Cy Hamilton’s arm. “Darling! Cy and I have been having the most wonderful discussion.”
“I’m sure you have.” Shep nodded gravely in Hamilton’s direction. He watched through hooded eyes as Tess attached herself to her husband. The difference between them was a chasm. Hamilton looked fifty-five, not the forty-nine Shep knew him to be. His hair was prematurely gray, his face heavily lined with the responsibility he carried. And Tess was so young! Even younger emotionally than physically. She was just beginning to explore life. He found himself wanting to share those discoveries with her and quickly shoved the thought into a closed, secret compartment of his heart. Tess’s features had been glowing and alive when she had talked to him earlier. Shep watched as the natural spark in her subsided and she became once again a silent shadow of her aging husband.
“It appears you get the honors, Captain,” Hamilton said. “You’ll be seated next to Senator Stockwell.”
Shep pursed his mouth, glancing down at Allyson. “I didn’t want to eat very much anyway,” he answered dryly, not allowing the true extent of his feelings to be known. That was all he needed. Chad Stockwell had fought against the B-1 program since its inception. The congressman was obligated to attend the dinner because it was taking place in his home state. But that didn’t mean he would be gracious about it, especially when his opponent, Senator Browning, was in attendance as well.
“Are you sure there isn’t a seating mistake?” Tess asked.
Shep looked up at her, grateful for her concern. Allyson simply looked bored and disappointed. And Hamilton was obviously just glad that he didn’t have to sit next to Stockwell. But Tess was sensitive enough to realize the implications of putting a military officer beside a dove congressman. To make matters worse, it was an insult to Stockwell to place him next to a mere captain. He should have been seated beside one of the generals who were attending this affair. Shep didn’t like being used to snub the congressman. Who the hell was running this show? he wondered angrily. But he controlled his anger and smiled coolly. “I doubt if it was a mistake, Tess. Thanks for being concerned though.”
Hamilton eyed him appraisingly. “Apparently, Captain Ramsey, someone must think you have the ‘right stuff to take this kind of encounter.”
“Frankly, sir, I’d rather be behind the stick of an F-15 out of control in a graveyard spin.”
Hamilton smiled slightly. “Yes, I think I would too. Good luck, Captain. And by the way, I’m very impressed with your credentials. Your lovely wife has been filling me in on your career. I’m sure our test pilots from Rockwell are looking forward to working with you and your colleagues.”
For Shep, dinner was a long, drawn out affair during which he tried valiantly to converse with Senator Stockwell. Afterward everyone got up and drifted into small clusters to continue talking. Allyson started making her customary rounds of the different Air Force officers, making sure none were overlooked. He hid his surprise when Cy Hamilton headed in his direction with Tess at his side.
“Captain Ramsey?”
Shep gravely inclined his head. “Yes, sir?”
“Tess hasn’t seen the B-1 prototype yet over at our Palmdale plant. And as my administrative assistant, she needs to get out and start nosing around.” Cy glanced down at her warmly, patting her hand. “I wonder if you might have a few hours free next week to show Tess around? She’s seen blueprints until she can draw them in her sleep. Now she needs to see the actual bomber. How about it?”
“I’d consider it an honor and a pleasure, Mr. Hamilton.”
Cy smiled genially up at the officer. “Good, good. May I leave my lovely wife in your capable hands, Captain, for a few minutes? I must chat a moment with Senator Browning before she leaves. Tess, I’ll drop by after a while with your wrap and then we’ll leave.”
Tess opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. She felt vaguely disturbed by Shep’s presence. Even so, a smile touched her lips as Cy left.
“You look like the cat that ate the canary,” she noted drily.
“I am. I was just trying to figure out a way to see you one more time before you left this evening.” He slid his fingers beneath her elbow, guiding her toward the balcony. “Ready for some fresh air?”
Tess hesitated. “I—”
“What’s this? My Irish lass is frightened?” he teased. “Relax, I enjoy your company. I intend to remain in control of myself.” He smiled, watching her visibly relax. She moved forward at his coaxing.
“Not all women of Gaelic ancestory are fearless. Some of us get frightened. Cy says I get scared too easily.”
Shep opened the door, ushering her through it. “You’re lacking in confidence. But I don’t see you chickening out in an emergency situation.”
Tess tilted her head, trying to understand him. “Why do you say that?” she demanded, halting near him at the balustrade.
“The way you carry yourself. You have a proud, natural carriage. You walk with your shoulders back and chin up. A woman that’s afraid tends to round her shoulders, take a much smaller step, and is inclined to keep her eyes fixed on the ground or only a few feet ahead of her. You,” he murmured, losing himself in her widening blue eyes, “look ahead. Far ahead. I can see why your husband chose you to occupy such a powerful position in the company you work for. You have moxie, lady. Something very few women possess.”
She colored. “I don’t understand how so many people can see all that in me when I don’t feel it in myself.” She laughed. “Are you sure test pilots aren’t dyed-in-the-wool romantics, Shep?”
Grinning, he murmured, “In a sense, I think we are. We see ourselves as unique. We are able to take something new and untried and coax, cajole, or force it to meet its potential. There is something idealistic or romantic in being able to accomplish that. Or,” he said, becoming more serious, “in dying if you don’t succeed.”
Tess sobered considerably at that. What possessed men to risk their lives that way? Was it a death wish? A heroic, subconscious passion to leave the earth as someone who had shoved back the limits of the unknown? A sudden, inexplicable dread washed over Tess. Looking up into Shep’s confident, stalwart face, she could never imagine him dying in a fiery crash. There was something too special, too vibrant about him. She couldn’t bear the thought that he might die, like a good percentage of test pilots, behind the stick of an unmanageable aircraft.
She chided herself sternly for dropping into the mire of depression. Rallying herself, she forced a smile. “From what little 1 know or understand about your career, Shep, I gather that test pilots seem to enjoy the surprise of the unknown. I think you like to pit yourself against it. No matter how much time you spend with our engineers, planners, and mechanics there is still that missing piece from the puzzle. You don’t know how the B-1 will handle until she’s airborne. You can only calculate the fly-ability of the plane by the computer printouts on the models in the wind tunnel tests.”
He looked at her with surprise. She was talking his language now. And very easily. “I’m having a hard time reconciling your image with what’s coming out of your lovely mouth. On the one hand you sound like an engineer. On the other I see a very romantic-looking woman right out of old Ireland.”
She bowed her head, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. “Please…” she whispered achingly.
Shep moved within inches of her, a troubled expression in his eyes. “You don’t even know how to take a compliment,” he whispered. “Hey…” he coaxed, placing his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes, “You can’t tell me other men haven’t complimented you, Tess. My God, you’re too lovely. Too…fresh and alive.” Her skin was velvety to his touch. He knew he ought to remove his hand but the feel of her skin sent waves of arousal through his body. Very gently Shep caressed her cheek.
Tess drew in a breath, acutely aware of time melting into nothingness as he slid his hand beneath her jaw, tilting her head up. Up to meet his descending mouth. A mixture of confusion mingled violently with molten desire inside her. He hesitated, a bare inch separating his mouth from her full, glistening lips. Her eyes had darkened to cobalt, flecked with bits of gold. Shep felt her tremble, caught the fleeting fear in her gaze. Cupping her face, he gently pulled her close to his body, wanting to erase the fear he saw.
His breath was warm against her face as she stared up into his eyes. Her heart beat heavily in her breast, her breath catching as he brought her against him. His mouth, so strong-looking, lightly brushed her lips, parting them gently. A quiver coursed through her at even that slight touch. A small cry lodged in her throat. This shouldn’t be happening, her mind screamed. Her heart thrilled to his masterful caress. Before she could pull away, his mouth fitted perfectly against her own, claiming her completely. Forever.
A shadowy figure remained frozen by the balcony doors, watching. Quietly, he reclosed the doors. A look of crafty pleasure registered on his features as he turned, moving back toward the knot of departing guests. This was exactly what he had been hunting for. He would use what he had stumbled upon at the right time and place. Yes, Cy Hamilton was practically in his pocket now. All that remained to be accomplished was the timing of his disclosure.
Chapter 3
“TESS, AREN’T YOU GOING TO MEET CAPTAIN RAMSEY today?” Cy inquired, looking at his watch. “You’d better get going if you’re going to make that luncheon date with him, you know.”
Tess stood in front of the large picture window, staring out over the smog-ridden form of Los Angeles in the midmorning light. It was Monday and the gears of the engineering department were turning in earnest at Rockwell. Cy had worked all Sunday at the office as usual, overseeing details on the B-1. She had remained at their posh Beverly Hills home thinking about the dinner party the night before. She had allowed Shep Ramsey to kiss her ... to steal the very breath from her starving, hungry soul. Her eyes clouded with pain and remorse. It shouldn’t have happened. She should never have allowed him to touch her. The war continued within her and her stomach felt as if it were twisted in knots.
‘Tess?”
“What? Oh, I’m sorry, Cy. I was thinking.”
He raised his head momentarily from the blueprints spread out on his large drafting board. “You seem nervous. Is everything all right? Last night you tossed and turned a great deal.”
Her heart contracted in anguish. Touching her forehead in a nervous gesture, Tess turned, forcing a smile for his benefit. “I haven’t been feeling well. Really Cy, I ought to cancel that engagement with Captain Ramsey. I—”
“You need some good desert sun. That’s what I get for taking you out of your natural environment of woods and meadows. I’ve worried what city living might do to you. I know you’re an outdoors girl. I think some fresh air, a walk in the sun will put the color back into your cheeks again.” He studied her. “You do look quite pale. Please, go. Besides, I’m booked with one meeting after another this afternoon and I won’t have time to discuss that contract you’re handling. Perhaps tonight we can go over it after dinner.”
Tess pursed her lips, walking back to his desk. “Cy, you’re working far too hard! You’re putting in eighty hours a week on this. It’s not necessary. Four or five hours of sleep a night just isn’t enough!” She reached out, gently massaging his stooped shoulders as he leaned over the blueprint. “Please, darling. Come with me. You show me the B-1. We’ll let Captain Ramsey be our guide.” Her voice grew desperate with pleading. “Darling, please…for me?”
Cy chuckled softly. “I love you so much, Tess.” He slid his arm around her waist, giving her a quick hug. “The offer is very tempting, but these meetings won’t run without me being there. Now you’d better hurry. It’s a two-hour drive up to Palmdale, and I very much want you to see that beautiful bomber. I’ll see you tonight when you get back.”
* * *
Her mouth was dry and her throat constricted as she walked into the restaurant at the Palmdale facility. Clutching her leather shoulder bag, Tess caught sight of him and froze. Shep came out of the shadows, the light playing across his face. He was a lone eagle, his gray eyes narrowed and intent as he closed the distance between them. Today he was in his regular Air Force uniform, looking masculine and lean. Her lips parted slightly as he halted a few feet from where she stood. Tess tried to decipher the unreadable quality of his facial features. What was he thinking? Feeling? Would he try to kiss her again? Her heart began to race in panic at that last thought. No, it mustn’t happen. Not ever again!
“Tess?” he murmured huskily.
She melted inwardly at the sound of his voice. She blinked back a sudden flood of tears that made her eyes look even more lustrous. “I didn’t want to come,” she blurted out unsteadily. “I was afraid. And guilty. I’m afraid of myself and what I’m feeling. It shouldn’t have happened, Shep ... I can’t live with myself knowing that I’ve cheated on Cy. I—”
He reached out, taking her elbow, guiding her into an adjoining room. “We have to talk,” he agreed. “Come on, let’s get you a chair and a drink to calm your nerves. You’re white as a sheet.”
She held the drink with both hands, seated away from most of the other luncheon guests. After taking two healthy gulps of the vodka gimlet, she felt a little calmer. Shep made no move to touch her or talk while she drank. Finally she raised her head, meeting those incredibly warm gray eyes. He was relaxed, the expressionless mask having dropped from his features. He offered her a slight smile.
“Better?”
Tess gave a nod of her head. “Better,” she agreed hoarsely.
“I owe you an apology, Tess,” he began. “I took advantage of the situation. I’m a gentleman, and it was my responsibility to control myself.” He shook his head, looking mystified. “There are things I want to say to you, but I can’t because you’re married.”
Her dark lashes framed widening eyes. “I am married. And I love my husband very much, Shep,” she said in a trembling voice. “I know I don’t have very much experience. And I can’t explain why I let you kiss me.” She dragged in a deep breath, hands pressed against her hot, flushed cheeks. “But please, for God’s sake, don’t do it again. I—I can barely live with myself now. If Cy knew—”
“No one saw us, Tess.” He leaned forward, a new urgency in his voice. “Look, one kiss doesn’t mean you’re having a full-blown affair. It’s not the end of the world. Put it into perspective.” His mouth thinned as he assessed her worriedly. “I’m sorry. Truly sorry for evoking this kind of pain in you. I never intended to do that, Tess, believe me. You didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of hurt.”
Tears slid down her cheeks and she brushed them away. Drawing a handkerchief from his back pocket, he placed it in her cool, damp fingers. Shakily she wiped the tears away. “All I want to do is see the B-1 and then leave, Shep.” How could she explain that her heart craved what Shep Ramsey had offered her? But her head was telling her that she was married to Cy.
“It’s not as simple as that,” he corrected gently. “You know well be seeing each other in the future because of the bomber. You can’t run away and hide from this, Tess. Neither of us can,” he concluded with more authority. “I promise not to make it any more awkward than it’s already become. But you’re going to have to put any guilt you feel over this into proper perspective and then lay it to rest. Otherwise you’ll only tear yourself apart.” He frowned, watching pain cross her mobile features. How could he have forgotten for one instant that emotionally she was a naive eighteen-year-old and not a mature woman of twenty-four? Agony slashed at his heart because he had selfishly inflicted this pain on her because of his own desire.
Shep idly sloshed the Scotch around in his glass, staring moodily at the ice cubes. He had done a great deal of thinking since kissing Tess. Most of his thoughts were centered on his disintegrating marriage. Allyson was a social climber. She lived for it. It hurt him to think that all she had seen in him when they married was a way to reach the top. But he knew she’d always dreamed of becoming a general’s wife. And God knew, he had the proper background to make him eligible in another twelve years. He took a sip of the Scotch, glancing over at Tess.
Her cheeks were tear-wet and flushed, her lashes thick and dark with tears. Instinctively, Shep knew Tess wasn’t concerned with the trappings of the material world. Hers was a world of emotional sensitivity. A world he had been craving to be a part of since he had been old enough to recognize it. And emotional sensitivity was something entirely foreign to Allyson.
“Come on, Tess. Finish your drink and I’ll take you to look at that bomber you’re building,” he said.
Tess raised her head, meeting his gray gaze. A new kind of warmth invaded her heart, soothing the ragged edges of the guilt. A tremulous smile touched her lips.
* * *
Shep escorted her inside a large, rectangular hangar. Inside sat the first two prototypes of the B-1 bomber. Workmen on tall, skeleton-like ladders swarmed over the two planes. Shep showed his security badge to the guard. Tess brought out her badge, too, and attached it to her camel hair coat.
“Compared to the B-52, the B-1 looks like a glamor girl,” Shep said, gesturing to the lean-looking bomber.
Tess nodded as her gaze traveled from the needlelike nose over the swept-back canopy of the cockpit to the sleek, aerodynamic shape of the main fuselage. “The B-1 looks more like the French Concorde,” she agreed, and then smiled. “Although, I think we have a better design.”
“The Concorde is designed for speeds of Mach 2. This bomber will hit subsonic speeds at low level.”
“Do you like the design, Shep?”
He turned, looking down at her. “As my friend Major Tom Cunningham put it, the plane is pure sex.”
She laughed with him. The B-1 was a Thoroughbred. It was a beautifully crafted plane and much smaller than the aging, eight-engined B-52. The B-1 could carry twice as many weapons, and once tested, it was hoped its overall performance would far surpass any existing bomber. “When you stop to think that there are over three thousand contractors and subcontractors working to put the B-1 together, it boggles your mind.”
Shep nodded, leading her around to the tricyclelike landing gear that raised the bomber twelve feet off the ground. A huge nacelle placed beneath each wing would hold two engines each.
“Speaking of contractors, I’d rather fly this thing than have to deal with them.” His slate-colored eyes sparkled with mirth. “Trying to handle the three thousand companies involved would be enough to give me gray hair long before my time.”
Tess sobered. “I know,” she answered, worry tinging her voice. “Cy deals directly with both the Air Force and the contractors. He works far too hard.”
Shep leaned against one of the thick white steel landing gear struts, studying her. “Your husband is in a very powerful and influential position at Rockwell. I’m sure he has to work hard to keep the whole thing moving. What’s the matter, don’t you like the prestige that goes with that position?” Shep was thinking that Allyson would revel in it.
Tess gave a vague shrug. “Money isn’t everything, Captain. Sure, it’s nice to have it but”—she smiled, her eyes crinkling with silent laughter—“sometimes, quite frankly, I’d rather be back in my jeans and pigtails.”
“And out walking in the woods. Right?”
She tilted her head, perplexed. “Now, how did you know that?”
“Anyone who has freckles is an outdoors girl,” Shep baited, grinning.
Tess blushed, avoiding his caressing gaze. Even with their truce, she still felt inexorably drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Noticing his bronzed skin, Tess countered, “You’re a country boy yourself.”
“Oh? Does my Maine heritage show through that strongly?” he asked, continuing to wander beneath the carriage of the bomber.
Tess turned, smiling up at him. “So! That’s where you get your poker face. You’re so hard to read when you don’t want to be read!”
