Читать книгу Love Me Before Dawn - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 10

“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.”

“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.