Читать книгу Cosmic Rendezvous - Robyn Amos - Страница 8

Shelly London shifted her stare from the blinking error message on her monitor to the window and back again. She was tempted to hoist her computer through the glass and jump out after it.

Moving to Houston to train astronauts on an experimental spacecraft for NASA wasn’t nearly as cool as it had originally seemed.

She’d felt as though she’d been caught up in a tornado from the minute she’d stepped off the plane from Washington, D.C. Between setting up her new home and overseeing the final design and production of the spacecraft, she’d barely had a moment to herself.

And there certainly hadn’t been time to find a decent hairdresser, she thought, patting her gel-slicked topknot. Houston’s humidity had gotten the best of her, and it had been one bad-hair day after another.

She knew her life would never resemble a rerun of Sex and the City. Expensive clothes and shoes, fabulous parties with beautiful people and an endless string of handsome men weren’t her destiny.

But at least back in D.C., she’d been stylish and put together, making the most of her cute potential. She’d had a social life, with girlfriends and dates when she’d wanted them, and close family ties with her mother and sister. Shelly knew it would take some time to build a life here in Houston, but it was slower going than she’d expected.

Still living out of boxes, she was lucky to put together a shirt and pants that matched. This made it easy to fall into the collegelike culture of her fellow aerospace geeks. Rolling out of bed for shift work, she dressed in blue jeans and old T-shirts, and ate whatever fast food was available.

She was close with those on her engineering team—most of whom she’d brought with her from D.C.—and knew the affable group of guys couldn’t care less how she looked. But just once since she’d moved to Houston, she’d like to have a good-hair day.

Yesterday, out of a desperate need for a touch-up, she’d pulled off the highway and walked into a hair salon. She’d figured that with the name Lady of Color, she had a fighting chance of getting a stylist who could straighten her frizzled mess. She’d been right about one thing. The salon did specialize in African-American hair. Unfortunately, it didn’t specialize in doing it well.

Shelly’s hair had been bone straight when she left the salon yesterday, but that had lasted only until she walked through the thick, souplike humidity to her car this morning. By the time she’d driven to her office—with the windows down, because the air conditioner was broken—she’d looked like a wet poodle.

After two months and two containers of hair gel, Shelly had been looking forward to sporting something other than a bun or an unruly ponytail. No such luck. Thanks to the emergency gel she’d retrieved from the trunk of her car and the wide rubber band from her desk drawer, she was back to her perpetual bad-hair-day look.

In fact, it was looking as if it was going to be a bad day all the way around. In the dark monitor of her computer, which she was rebooting for the third time, she saw the reflection of a thunderstorm headed her way. Actually, it was Lightning. Lightning Ripley.

But she refused to use Lincoln Ripley’s self-indulgent nickname out loud. Shelly didn’t care how many engineers on her team suffered from hero worship. Or how often she heard women in the ladies’ room drooling over his chiseled features and rock-hard muscles. Shelly was convinced Ripley’s reputation was all hype.

By her estimation, he was a cocky, overconfident hotshot, channeling Will Smith in Independence Day. Ripley thought he was a hero destined to become a legend, and Shelly didn’t want any part of it.

Guardian Rescue Mission, or GRM, was her baby. Draco, the spacecraft, was her design. And she wasn’t going to let some ego-driven astronaut ruin the very thing her entire career and reputation were riding on.

Spinning around in her chair to face him, Shelly braced herself. She knew exactly what was coming. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Lincoln Ripley felt anger radiating from his body like invisible waves of heat. He stalked up to Shelly London, fully intending to spin her chair to face him, but she stole his thunder when she turned to him on her own.

She stopped him short with the look of challenge in her dark eyes. He knew right then that she was going to be trouble. He wished for some way to wipe that smug expression off her face.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t have the authority to get me pulled off this mission.” At the sound of his voice echoing through the quiet room, three heads popped up in alarm. The rest of the team was watching the scene with rapt attention, but Linc didn’t care.

Shelly stared up at him without blinking. Her cold gaze sent a shiver down his spine. “You haven’t been pulled from the mission. So, what’s the problem?”

Linc blinked. Was she kidding? That morning she’d issued a request to the mission director for his reassignment. “The problem is that you tried to get me kicked off.”

“Relax, Ripley. This isn’t Survivor. You can’t be voted off, as you well know. I simply inquired as to whether you were the best choice for lead astronaut on this mission.”

Her indifference ramped up his anger another notch. “You question whether or not I’m the best choice? Don’t you know who I am?”

His stomach muscles were clenched. Linc was used to maintaining his composure, especially with women. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted this strongly to one.

More infuriating was that her cool smile never changed. “Sure. You’re a lieutenant colonel in the United States Air Force.”

Linc ground his teeth together. She was being deliberately obtuse. “And…”

She gave an unladylike snort. “Oh, you want to know if I saw you on the covers of Time, Newsweek and People. Yes, I’m well aware of your reputation,” she said irreverently. “But piloting a space shuttle has nothing to do with flying Draco. And I’m only interested in training astronauts who are focused on this mission rather than their own achievements.”

Linc suppressed a curse. His achievements had won him an Airman’s Medal. His body had now grown so hot, it was only a matter of time before steam poured from his ears.

“I can’t believe your nerve—”

“There seems to be plenty of nerve to go around, because you had the nerve to miss my briefing yesterday.”

Linc pounded the desk with his fist. “Is that what this is about? Missing one lousy meeting?”

Her back straightened, and for the first time, Linc spotted a crack in her composure. “No, this isn’t about one lousy meeting. I didn’t see you in the Mojave Desert when Draco was unveiled four months ago, and you didn’t show up for the first round of flight testing, either.”

His gut clenched. He’d missed those dates because he’d been flying a covert rescue mission out of Iraq. But he couldn’t discuss that with a civilian. He had no choice but to take the hit to his reputation. “It was my understanding that those exercises were optional.”

“Now we’re down to the wire, and training is about to begin. Yesterday’s briefing was not optional, and you weren’t there. Draco is my design. I don’t want anyone on the team who doesn’t take the spacecraft just as seriously as I do.”

He’d had enough of her attitude. “Your design. Important to you. Lady, this mission isn’t about you. GRM is a top-secret military operation. Missing one little meeting doesn’t warrant you trying to get me bumped from the mission.”

“The briefing wasn’t one little meeting. It was the meeting. And because you weren’t at the meeting, you don’t know anything about this spacecraft. It’s a new design that you’ve never seen before. This mission is on a rushed deadline. We don’t have time to waste catching you up whenever you decide your Porsche needs detailing.”

“It’s a 1969 Cobra, and it needed a carburetor.” He’d nearly killed himself in that car trying to get to the meeting on time, but his pride wouldn’t let him tell her that.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. In any case, you’re still on the project. It’s no secret that I’m not thrilled about that fact, but we have to work together, nonetheless. So, if you’re through disrupting the room, those of us who actually work here have to get back to it.” She spun her chair back around to face her computer.

Linc just stood there for a moment, staring incredulously. There were a million things he could have said, and would have said, if he weren’t so confused.

She’d just dismissed him. No woman had ever dismissed Lincoln Ripley.

Once Shelly heard Linc finally leave the room, she released the breath she’d been holding. That man infuriated her.

She was so mad, she was nearly shaking, but she hadn’t wanted him to see that. Shelly couldn’t focus on her computer screen. Sucking in a deep breath, she pulled her glasses off. She missed her contacts, but she still hadn’t found the time to find an optometrist to update her prescription.

Lately, there wasn’t time for anything the least bit personal. There certainly wasn’t time for a social life of any kind. And to make matters worse, because her mission was top-secret, she couldn’t talk to her family about what she was doing. That made for some strained conversations, because work had become her life.

But it would be worth it. All her life, Shelly had wanted to be an astronaut. Even now as an aerospace engineer, she’d applied to the astronaut program three times. And she’d been rejected. Three times.

After her last rejection, she’d begun to doubt herself. But her boss had given her another shot when he recommended her to work on Draco. He’d told her that this could be her ticket to the stars. And with that goal in mind, Shelly had worked hard on the project. Her ideas for the vehicle had been innovative enough that she’d eventually become the lead designer.

Unfortunately, when that phase had been completed, and she’d angled for a slot on the spacecraft as an expert on the design and maintenance, Shelly had been shot down again. It was at that point that they’d been informed that this new spacecraft was for a military operation that would be manned solely by military personnel.

This wasn’t unusual. Many of NASA’s astronauts were pulled directly from the military, particularly the Air Force, since jet flight experience was valued so highly. But, Shelly knew her background in aerospace engineering should have made her sufficiently qualified under normal circumstances.

Every move Shelly had made in her career was to prepare her to become an astronaut. NASA relied heavily on its private contractors, and Shelly had gone to work for Welloney Incorporated straight from graduate school because they held contracts for some of NASA’s most high-profile projects.

When she learned GRM wasn’t going to get her into space, Shelly had almost thrown in the towel then and there, but there had been a silver lining. For her hard work on the project, she’d been promoted and sent to Houston to train the astronauts on Draco. It was hardly the next best thing to riding a rocket into space, but the money was good, and Shelly needed a change.

She’d be damned if she’d sit back and watch some hotshot pilot take Draco for granted. If she couldn’t man the craft herself, she at least wanted astronauts that saw the mission as more than another notch in their belts.

Shelly shook her head over the argument she’d just had. He’d been trying to intimidate her. Lincoln Ripley was clearly the kind of man who was used to having his way.

Why else would he have leaned over her like that? He’d probably expected that she would get a lungful of that designer cologne he wore and swoon. Or maybe he’d thought she’d be mesmerized by his chocolate-brown eyes and offer him whatever he asked for.

This was the first time Shelly had seen Linc up close, and she couldn’t deny, he was every bit as handsome as the rumor mill suggested. The women in the administration office called him Mr. Right Stuff. But that little fact only annoyed her more.

She hated men like him. The kind that never had to work hard at anything. Panties dropped at their feet with a glance, they made touchdowns without breaking a sweat, and their egos…Shelly was surprised Linc could keep a plane in the air with the weight of his ego on board.

No, this wasn’t the kind of astronaut she wanted on her mission, but they were stuck with each other. Yet, if Lincoln Ripley thought he was going to bat his thick eyelashes and get what he wanted from her, he was sorely mistaken.

She was in charge, and she wasn’t going to let him forget it.

Two days later, Linc was still trying to figure out what he was going to do about Shelly London. It seemed she’d set her mind on riding him hard.

He smiled at the double entendre. If she were any other woman, he might try making the other meaning of that statement a reality. But Linc couldn’t get past her hard edge long enough to see her that way. Prim updo. Glasses. She was clearly wound too tight. And Linc liked his women soft and loose.

At first, he hadn’t known why she was dead set against him, but he’d been certain it was an opinion she’d formed long before they’d ever met.

Sure, from the outside looking in, it might seem to her that flying her spacecraft wasn’t a priority to him—an assumption that couldn’t be further from the truth. But his gut told him that was just a surface excuse for her to continue despising him.

Linc had to admit, having a woman hate him on sight was a new sensation, and it had thrown him off his game for a minute. But he’d never been one to run from a challenge.

So what if she didn’t want him piloting Draco? Colonel Murphy, the mission director, had made it clear that losing him wasn’t an option.

His next move had been to turn the tables on her. If she didn’t want to work with him, why couldn’t she go back to Washington and turn the work over to the remaining team members? After all, Draco was nearly built. What did they need her for now?

He needed to know exactly what kind of enemy he was up against in Shelly. That meant finding out whatever he could about her.

Getting information out of her engineering team had been easy. They were a bit starstruck in his presence and were eager to answer his questions. From them, he’d learned that she was as hard to ditch from this mission as he was.

He hadn’t placed much weight on her words when she’d bragged about designing Draco. Spacecrafts were designed by teams, and being the project manager didn’t exactly make her a genius.

Except in this case. Apparently, she had been a junior member of the design team and had graduated to PM based on her development of a system that could increase propulsion while reducing fuel usage. It was technology that had never been seen before, making Shelly the absolute authority.

Using that fact as leverage, Shelly had lobbied to be included on the flight team as an engineer. Of course, she hadn’t had a chance in hell of that happening. Draco would only be boarded by military personnel. That was a mandate that had come from the vice president himself.

Linc had spent the better part of his morning grilling engineers, but at least now he’d figured out why Shelly had it out for him. She wanted to be an astronaut. And she probably resented him because he epitomized everything she wanted but couldn’t have.

Now that he understood her a bit better, he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy for her. With that in mind, he decided to take the first step toward forming a truce.

Just before lunch, Linc headed toward her workstation to find her. He hadn’t gotten any farther than the hallway outside the GRM offices when he saw Shelly coming at him.

Her brown eyes were like flashing warning signs, but he still took his chances. “Hey, I was just going to look for you—”

She stopped in front of him, arms crossed. “So you finally decided to go to the source?”

He frowned at her bitter tone. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been checking up on me, haven’t you?” Her eyes narrowed, becoming thin slits, and he resisted the survival instinct to back up.

“Well, I just—”

“What exactly was your plan? Did you think turn-about was fair play? Were you looking for some way to get me ousted from GRM so I’d be out of your hair?”

Caught off guard, he didn’t have time to mask his guilt.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. If you were really the hotshot astronaut everyone thinks you are, you would have put this much energy into brushing up on Draco instead of prying into my background.”

Linc had been silent out of pure incredulity, but now his temper snapped. “Give me a break. I didn’t hire a private investigator to follow you around and dig up dirt. I asked a few of the engineers about you. I wanted to know why you have such a giant chip on your shoulder.”

“My chips and my shoulders are none of your concern. The only things you need to concern yourself with are the specifications for the spacecraft. We start training next week, and I don’t want to fall behind schedule because you don’t know what’s going on.”

Linc saw red. “I know everything I need to know about Draco.”

She smirked. “Really? How many days can Draco stay in orbit?”

“Two hundred and ten,” he answered effortlessly.

“That was an easy one. What are Draco’s altitude control specs?”

“Nitrogen jets plus the differential firing of the main thrusters.”

Linc and Shelly were so caught up in their altercation, they barely noticed that they’d drawn a small crowd. What he did finally see was the crowd quickly dispersing and Shelly staring in horror over his shoulder.

Holding his breath, Linc spun on his heel. “Colonel Murphy. Good afternoon, sir.”

“I want the two of you in my office now,” replied the colonel.

The long walk down the hallway to the colonel’s office made Linc acutely aware of how childishly he and Shelly had been behaving. He felt like he’d just been called to the principal’s office. Something about her brought out the worst in him.

Colonel Murphy followed them into the office but didn’t sit at his desk. Instead, he walked to the window and ran a hand through his thick white hair.

Finally, he turned to face them, reining in his anger with noticeable effort. “Do you two know how much this mission is worth? Do you understand what’s at stake here?”

“Yes, sir,” they both answered in unison.

“Then why do I have two of my most valuable team members arguing loudly enough to draw a crowd when there’s work to be done?”

Linc couldn’t find any words to excuse his behavior, and Shelly remained silent beside him.

“Frankly, I’m stunned that the two of you can’t get along,” the colonel continued. “You’re both well-liked by the other members of the team. You’re both leaders. So if you don’t have trouble getting along with anyone else, why the hell can’t you get along with each other?”

Shelly leaned forward. “Actually, Colonel—”

“You know what? I don’t care,” Colonel Murphy said, cutting her off. “You don’t have to braid each other’s hair and have tea parties together. All you have to do is get the job done. You’re stuck with each other. So find a way to behave civilly. If you don’t work it out on your own, I’ll have the two of you shoved so far down each other’s throats, you’ll speak with one voice. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

“Good. Now, I don’t want to hear any more commotion from the two of you, because if I have to intervene again, I guarantee you’ll wish I hadn’t.” With that, he spun on his heel and walked out of his office.

After a moment of stunned silence, Linc and Shelly got up from their seats and hurried away in opposite directions.

Linc was still fuming on the drive home that evening. He hadn’t had a problem with a woman since he’d turned twelve. He increased his pressure on the gas pedal, letting the car gain speed to match his pulse.

Whenever his father had been angry, he’d gotten on his horse and ridden until he was spent. Linc, who’d been a city boy until his father took him in at thirteen, much preferred to ride his steel horse when he was upset. His Cobra Mustang was his pride.

But that car was in the shop now, and he was driving his environmentally conscious hybrid. Though it made his conscience feel great, it wasn’t doing much for his need to burn adrenaline.

Linc tightened his hands on the steering wheel, missing the sound of a revving engine and the rush of power that came with manually shifting gears.

He had to find a way to get along with Shelly—colonel’s orders. He rolled his eyes. Throughout his entire career in the military, he’d never been reprimanded like that. He didn’t appreciate Shelly putting him in a position to get his first reproof.

He jerked up the parking break and turned off the engine. Usually, the hour-long commute from Johnson Space Center to his ranch outside the city gave him plenty of time to work through his frustrations. But as he climbed out of the car that evening, his muscles were wound tighter than ever, and he was still muttering curses under his breath.

For once, he decided to tear a page out of his father’s book and try riding his favorite horse, Galaxy. She was black with silver dapples along the flanks that made her resemble a night sky. He’d known she was his from the second he’d laid eyes on her.

Now this had been one female he’d been able to charm out of her cantankerous demeanor, he thought as he prepared Galaxy for his ride.

He’d been warned against buying her because she’d been stubborn and extremely skittish. A steady regimen of pampering and cajoling had finally won Galaxy over. From then on, Linc thought, there wasn’t a member of the fairer sex who could resist his charms.

Until Shelly.

Mounting his horse, he cantered Galaxy across his land until they were in the open, where she could run free.

Why couldn’t he charm Shelly? She wasn’t his usual type, but he could charm most women. Just thinking about her made his blood boil so much, he could barely remember what she looked like.

She was the stereotypical librarian type, who had the potential to be attractive without the glasses, pinned-up hair, and the gigantic rod up her back. But he preferred women who put some effort into their looks. He liked it when a woman wore makeup and dressed to look good for her man.

Still, no one was saying he had to date her—just get along. Maybe he just needed to turn up the wattage on his charm. An innocent compliment or two, and she’d be eating out of his hand, the way Galaxy was taking sugar cubes from his palm right now.

They’d stopped by the creek for a rest break, but as Linc saw twilight sneaking up on him, he realized he had to get back to the ranch. If he rushed, he could get in the shower before his date that night.

He was going out with Anisa, a contestant from the most recent season of Make Me a Supermodel, and he didn’t want to show up smelling like his horse.

Shelly’s stomach rumbled loudly. The three engineers sitting alongside her launched into a chorus of jibes regarding the monster growling in her belly.

“Quick! Feed the beast,” Quincy said, tossing her a mini Snickers.

“What? I worked through lunch, trying to figure out a way to improve the extension of Draco’s grappling arm,” Shelly informed them.

“Well, that explains it then,” Jason said, looking at the other two men.

Shelly scowled, shoving the candy bar into her mouth. “That explains what?”

“Shelly, you get cranky when you don’t eat,” Raj said. “We could hear you and Lightning arguing in the hall from in here.”

Shelly rolled her eyes, trying to hide her embarrassment. She’d come to the conclusion on her own that she’d handled the situation with Commander Ripley badly from the start.

It had been an impulse that led her to ask Colonel Murphy if they could move Lieutenant Chambers up from the Beta team to the Alpha team to pilot Draco.

Dustin Chambers was the lead astronaut on Draco’s backup team. If anything happened to the crew on the Alpha team—the one led by Ripley—then the Beta team would take over.

Chambers had been gung ho about the mission from the start. He had shown up for all of the briefings and demonstrations and had exhibited particular interest in Shelly’s innovative designs.

He was the kind of astronaut she wanted to fly Draco.

When she’d asked Colonel Murphy the question, she’d only been half serious, knowing full well that Ripley’s fame and reputation would make it difficult to push him aside.

What she hadn’t counted on was Colonel Murphy telling Ripley that she’d made the casual, almost joking, inquiry. When he’d come to confront her, she couldn’t allow herself to back down.

But the hallway incident had been another story. Nothing had been more embarrassing than having Colonel Murphy sit them down like two high school delinquents.

This day had gotten completely out of control. Maybe the guys were right, she thought, turning to face her engineering team. Maybe she just needed to eat.

“Don’t worry, guys,” she told them. “I’m leaving to go rummage up some dinner right now. I promise I’ll show up well-fed Monday morning.”

Raj nodded. “You should stop at Moe’s. They have the best barbecue in Texas.”

“He’s not kidding. The sign actually says that. ‘Best Barbecue in Texas.’” Quincy laughed. “I took it upon myself to investigate that claim, and I haven’t found any better.”

“Damn,” Jason chimed in. “I wish my wife hadn’t already made dinner plans. Now I’m craving Moe’s.”

Shelly felt her tummy rumbling, and her salivary glands had gone into overdrive the minute they’d started talking about food.

“You all don’t have to say another word. I’m sold. Barbecue it is,” she declared.

When Shelly pulled into the parking lot of Moe’s Barbecue, it was a quarter to eight—prime time for the Friday-night-date and family-dinner crowd. The absolute worst time to show up at a restaurant alone.

Making up her mind to do carryout, Shelly marched into the restaurant and paused awkwardly in the foyer. With a name like Moe’s Barbecue, she was expecting red-checkered tablecloths and kitschy Western props adorning the walls. Although there was a folksy Western charm to the hardwood floors and the heavy wood and leather booths, the tables were covered in white linen and set with votive candles.

Finally, she spotted the bar in the back, and near the cash register, there was a long line of customers, which was discouraging. Before Shelly could make a break for it, a hostess appeared. “May I help you?”

Shelly bit her lip. “Actually, I was hoping to do carryout.”

The blond teenager smiled at her. “Carryout is in the back, but there’s already a bit of a backup. If you want faster service, you can sit at the bar.”

Shelly clutched her rumbling stomach. It had heard there was a chance for immediate food, and it wasn’t going to let her forget it.

“Thanks. I think I’ll do that,” she said, taking a menu from the hostess and making her way to the bar.

Luckily, Shelly spotted an empty seat and slipped into it just before an older man in a suit and cowboy boots could get to it.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled, and the man nodded in concession. Shelly ordered a full rack of Texas whiskey ribs and a dark beer, which she’d only recently acquired a taste for.

Despite the long carryout line, the hostess was true to her word, and Shelly’s food came quickly. She ended up having a nice conversation with the shoe salesman sitting beside her. Pleasantly surprised, she discovered that dining alone on a Friday night wasn’t the end of the world.

Of course, her button-down white blouse had been sacrificed to the gods of whiskey barbecue sauce, but her full belly assured her it had been worth it.

Shelly was in the middle of paying her check when she heard a voice that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

“It can’t be,” she whispered to herself. Holding her breath, she darted a look over her shoulder. A few feet away, Lincoln Ripley was being seated with his tall, leggy date.

Quickly turning her head, Shelly thrust her credit card at the bartender. They hadn’t seen her, and if she was quick, she might escape before they did.

Scribbling her name illegibly, Shelly took her receipt and headed for the door, trying to give Linc’s table the widest berth possible. She kept her eyes forward, playing the “if I can’t see you, you can’t see me” game.

She’d only taken a couple of steps before she heard Ripley say, “Is that my favorite coworker?” It stopped her dead in her tracks.