Читать книгу Star-Crossed Lovers - Zena Valentine - Страница 11

Kale flung open the door of the plane, pushed himself out onto the wing and leaped to the ground. Although it wasn’t as hot and humid in Kenross as it had been a hundred and fifty miles south in Minneapolis, the blast of hot July air turned his skin sticky.

He slammed the door, and then he looked up at the small high-wing plane on base leg, perpendicular to the runway. Suddenly the engine stopped and the prop spun to a slow undulating roll. He almost felt the pilot’s shock as one wing dipped sharply and then straightened. It looked for an instant as though it would take a nosedive.

All his senses moved to alert. He thought he was seeing an accident about to happen, but somehow the plane continued, turning to line up with the runway, gliding onto the tarmac with uncertain hops and jolts as it landed and then braked in jerking assaults.

Phil came to stand alongside him. “Don’t worry,” he said as though reading his boss’s mind. “It’s a student pilot flying dual. The instructor shut off the gas on final approach as part of the training.”

“Taking his life into his hands,” Kale mused, still shaken but relieved.

“Her life, you mean,” Phil said.

As the plane drew closer he saw what Phil had already noted, that Jessi sat in the instructor’s seat. He wasn’t prepared for the rush of anger that slammed like a torrent through him at the thought of Jessi being in a plane that was in trouble, of Jessi deliberately shutting off the engine while an unskilled novice was at the wheel, of Jessi putting her life in danger while he watched helplessly from the ground.

And then he caught himself, took a deep breath to clear such thoughts from his mind, and wiped sweat from his brow. He swung around to head for the office and the keys to the rental car. Was he crazy? What in the hell did he care if she wanted to take risks? If she was a flight instructor, she knew what she was doing. How was it that she goaded his anger so easily? It must be that she fed into his entrenched resentment, he thought. It was inconvenient as hell.

No one was behind the counter when he reached the office, so he reached into the drawer and helped himself to the keys. He had been here often enough, and he had reserved the car as usual, so he didn’t feel as though he were trespassing. Looking around quickly, he saw two men smoking in the lounge, and he could hear Chaz’s voice, presumably on the telephone in the next room.

As he closed the drawer with the car key in his hand, he looked up and the memory of nine days ago socked him in the gut. He was standing only inches from where he had lost control then, threaded his hand through her hair and pushed her against the cabinets with his body, angry that she might have been guilty of yet another betrayal a dozen years ago. But as he had held her imprisoned, his rage had colored into a desire so potent he had been obsessed with penetrating her through all the wrappings. He almost kissed her. He’d been only a scant inch from her lips. He’d had an overwhelming urge to take her mouth in a kiss savage enough to bruise.

In horror, he had backed away, cursed her and left, relying on instinct and habit alone to make his legs move, to carry him to the plane and to buckle himself in while Phil went over his checklist.

Strapping himself into the plane, he had been painfully aware that being close to her, touching her, had been a damning mistake, and had left him so shaken he forgot for a while what had inspired his rage in the first place. Every part of his body had been tight and hard with nerves bunched for attack, but it was the hardness in his groin and recognizing his oddly barbarian intentions while he had her in his power that had horrified him.

It had been a first, having his carnal desires violently awakened by rage. He was not, had never been, a violent man, had never forced a woman, or treated a woman roughly. Never in his life. He was appalled by violence, and had never associated it with either sex or desire.

It had frightened him. He had turned his head to face out the window so that Phil would not see his shame and turmoil, and he had held the briefcase temporarily on his lap to cover the evidence of his fierce arousal. Damn that woman for turning him into an animal!

No, that was unfair. She had done nothing to inspire his sudden insanity. It was something within himself, something dark and painful and frighteningly powerful, that had blossomed without warning and overshadowed his civility.

The thought that she had once wooed him with sweet shyness, and then given her body to someone else, had once again infuriated him. He had to know if that was what she had done, borne some other man’s child when he as a teenager in love was lying awake nights missing her and wanting her, wondering when he might see her again. When he thought of his own young innocence and the aching need to be close to her, to take care of her and hold her and dream of a future together, he felt the ominous force of his pain-fired anger, because he had been deluded and used. He had been a fool, naive and trusting. Believing in her.

Until he heard about the “other” man and confronted her.

That Amanda might be her child had caught in his chest, until he had realized she probably wasn’t Jessi’s. During the return flight he had thought about that stretch of time twelve and thirteen years ago, from the accident in September to the last time he saw Jessi the following August, and he figured that if Jessi had got herself pregnant during that time, the child could not yet be twelve years old.

And then, riding in the plane alongside his pilot, he had let the other feelings overwhelm him, the ones he could neither understand nor explain that caught him in their grip when he touched her and felt the length of her soft body against him, and it sickened him. What had possessed him to handle her so harshly and to find himself wanting to force her to his will? What ill-conceived demon had driven him to such lengths?

Was it because he had harbored and nurtured his resentment toward her for so many years that when he finally found himself in her presence he could no longer contain his anger?

He was a man of infinite control. Ask anyone who knew him, the women he had known intimately, the people he worked with, his family, his clients, anyone.

To lose control now was to face a terror, for it was something within himself that he did not recognize. And could not tolerate.

That he must harness these wild errant feelings was without question. And he must do so immediately. Furthermore, he must avoid future contact with Jessi Caldwell Morris, who seemed to bring on this unconscionable behavior.

Now, standing at the cabinet where he had manhandled her nine days ago, he yanked himself back to the present. It had happened again, losing himself in the experience of touching her and suffering the consequences.

He turned quickly from the cabinet, gripping the rental car keys in his hand and strode outside. He was heading for the rental car when she called to him, and without thought he instantly responded.

She was running from the small plane, jogging toward him in a short sleeveless tank top that revealed too many inches of delectable flat midsection, and khaki shorts, a clipboard held against her side. Her hair was frizzed by the heat and humidity, pulled into an inadequate clasp at the back of her neck so that wildly curled tendrils framed her face. As she drew near, he saw that some of the tendrils were wet and stuck to her face.

He saw the sheen of perspiration from her forehead down her clear tanned skin to the top of her breasts. That was how he had thought she would look under him when he finally made love to her, her skin glowing with pleasure and heat while she gave herself to him.

Adolescent thoughts, he warned himself, better forgotten. It would never happen. He would never make love to a woman he despised.

But he remembered her convincing innocence and her quiet vitality. He could still hear her calling his mother “Reggie Mom,” see her savoring the sour apples off the sprawling tree in the Nobles’ backyard.

“Kale,” she called, although she was within a few feet of where he forced himself to stand without expression. He ordered himself to be absolutely still, to express nothing, to stay in control of himself.

She studied him for a moment as though she was looking for something in his face, and then she spoke. “I want to talk to you, Kale,” she said quietly, still searching his face. “Would you have time after your business today?”

“What have we to talk about?”

She inhaled sharply and winced. She ran a hand over her hair which was hopelessly wild. He watched her struggle for a reply, keeping his face cool and immobile, keeping his body still while inside a fire was raging.

“Nothing, I guess,” she said in a voice so low he saw rather than heard it. “Forget it,” she murmured.

He should, although he would like to talk some more about Amanda. He already knew the girl was Charlotte’s and not Jessi’s. And he shouldn’t talk to Jessi. He shouldn’t allow himself to be caught in a conversation with her, and yet, he did intend to pursue his suspicion that she was hiding something in regard to Arnanda. He wanted to ask when Amanda was born. He wanted to know whether there was a possibility she was Paul’s.

It seemed unlikely that even the Jezebel Caldwells could have been cruel enough to withhold all these years a precious child of Paul’s. Still, he wanted to know for certain.

He was watching Jessi’s knotted eyebrows, and then he looked into her eyes. Hell, it was Friday afternoon, and he wouldn’t mind a cool drink before he crawled back into the plane. He tried not to think of how it would be sitting near her, watching her, sharing a drink.

“All right,” he said finally. “But I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” she said softly.

He nodded and tore himself away from her soft voice and her luscious glowing woman’s body, turning swiftly to walk in the opposite direction to the rental car, letting himself through the high latched gate at the end of the sidewalk. He looked back once before he tucked himself into the car, but she was gone.

Jessi wrote her instructor’s comments in the student’s logbook, then gassed the plane and returned it to the hangar. She looked at the schedule for the rest of the day, what planes were reserved by whom for what time periods, and she went through message slips that had been accumulating during the day, then checked the ground school schedule to make sure that Chaz had arranged his hours to teach the Saturday morning class. She would be tied up with lessons as she usually was on Saturdays, and once again she promised herself she would hire another part-time flight instructor.

She had hired Harry, a retired airline pilot, as a part-time pilot after Rollie and Frank had died, and she had given Chaz the full-time job, but she and Chaz were the only ones qualified to instruct, and during the summer she needed another person on weekends.

Amanda skipped in from school, threw herself into Jessi’s embrace and told her aunt she had been invited to spend the night at a friend’s. Jessi approved of the friend and agreed to drive her there if Amanda would go home and pack a bag and come back when she was ready to go.

Before leaving to transport Amanda, she told Chaz she would be gone for fifteen minutes. “If Kale Noble comes back, ask him to wait. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Both Amanda and Chaz were startled at her casual words.

“Mr. Noble? That gorgeous man who said I look like my mom?” Amanda asked.

Chaz observed, “The man can hardly stand to be in the same room with you, Jessi.”

“We have something to discuss,” she snapped, and headed to the door so quickly Amanda had to jerk herself around to keep up.

“I’ll tell him you’re busy getting into your armor,” Chaz yelled after her.

When she returned, Chaz was waiting for her. “You watch out for him, Jessi,” he warned.

“Well, what do you think he’s going to do to me, for heaven’s sake,” she scoffed, fleeing further questions by dashing to her upstairs retreat.

“Jessi!” he shouted, taking the steps two at a time behind her. “Did you ever look in his eyes? They’re black as coal, like there’s a fire burning in there. And the way he acts like he has the whole world in his control. Curt Burness says he’s a genius! A genius, for crying out loud!”

“Curt Burness said that? Interesting.” She pulled an accounting book out of a desk drawer. Well, Curt Burness would know a genius if he worked with one.

Chaz was silent for a moment. She could hear his heavy breathing. When she looked up, his face was a picture of chagrin, but his voice had softened and his arms were still. “I think he could hurt you,” he said.

She was dismayed not only by the intensity of his concern, but also by the unwitting accuracy of his words. Any hurt Kale Noble caused her wouldn’t be of the physical variety, but rather it would be the soul-deep pain of a twice-broken heart. She forced a small smile. “Thank you for worrying, Chaz, but Kale Noble has never been a violent person,” she replied, deliberately misinterpreting his prediction.

“Every time I see that damned Noble plane I get a pain in my gut. Every time I see it fly away I feel relieved. The guy is arrogant as hell,” Chaz continued.

So it wasn’t just her imagination that Kale Noble paced through life with an aura of power and intimidation. It wasn’t just memories of the past or her awareness that he resented her that gave him an appearance almost sinister. And then, there had been the incident behind the counter the last time they were together, when he crowded her and put his hand in her hair. She saw him as a walking energy force, threatening her emotional stability with his raw sensuality.

“You’re probably right, Chaz,” she agreed. “I’ll suggest we meet at the restaurant.”

He reluctantly left, and she worked on accounts payable, stopping frequently while her mind wandered.

Was she doing the right thing intending to probe to learn how close he was to discovering the truth about Amanda’s parentage? She deeply regretted her taunting and defiant response to his question when he held her against the cabinet and let her see for the first time that his rage had been fostered by abject pain. It wasn’t in her nature or true to her principles that she be coy with him. She didn’t approve of playing games with people’s feelings. Certainly it was inappropriate not to be honest about a subject that was so emotionally charged it was bound to cause yet another series of painful eruptions between the Caldwells and the Nobles.

Still, she didn’t think she could bear to tell Kale and risk losing Amanda to the Caldwells’ archenemies.

Whatever action she took or didn’t take in the matter, the truth might eventually be revealed now that Kale was a regular customer, and if it was, all of them were going to be hurt in some way. Better, she thought, to determine how close Kale was to figuring things out. If he should discover Paul was Amanda’s father, his accusations and bitterness were likely to curdle the air. And she wouldn’t blame him.

She disliked working on accounts payable, and when she caught herself writing the wrong amount on a check, she ceased her efforts, and stared out the window at the nice flurry of activity on her airfield.

In spite of the uncomfortable heat, people were coming to fly airplanes, their own that were hangared there and hers that they rented. She saw her sleek six-passenger aircraft turn from downwind to base leg and knew that Harry, her part-time pilot, was returning with officers from one of the corporations that regularly used her flight service.

There was a line of three planes at the gas pump occupying Chaz.

She put away her books and went down to the counter.

She wandered into the lounge to visit with the men who sat around because they loved flying and at the moment had nowhere to go. Sometimes there were a few women around, too, but seldom.

There was no profit in idle pilots sitting around the lounge, but Jessi encouraged it nonetheless, as Rollie had, because she liked the camaraderie. She liked to hear the old-timers talk about tail draggers and tease the younger pilots about the minimal skills required nowadays to fly “tricycles.”

Being a pilot made you a part of a special fellowship. She had felt it the first time she set foot in Rollie’s lounge, and she had known immediately that she wanted to be a part of it. After her first ride aloft, she recognized that a whole new world had been opened to her, a world she was born to.

At times like this she missed Rollie, whose devotion to flying and his friends had left a gaping hole in her life.

And then she felt a bite of guilt because in recent days her thoughts of Rollie had been insidiously replaced by thoughts of Kale Noble, who, as Chaz fantasized, was bedeviling her.

She grinned when he came through the door, having handed off his briefcase to Phil, and the words fell from her lips, “Well, just think about the devil and.”

He eyed her from where he stood by the counter, his white cotton shirt stained with sweat and fine splatters of mud. His black hair was blown out of its natural waves, and strands were plastered to his gleaming skin. He looked rugged and earthy, sensual and elegant.

She stared at him from the lounge. He ran a hand over his ruffled hair and headed for the rest room. When he emerged, the mud splatters were less evident, his face was clean and his hair combed.

“Does that place across the parking lot sell liquor?” he demanded.

“There’s a bar,” she replied.

“Good. Let’s talk there,” he said, reaching out a hand in an impatient gesture to have her join him. He didn’t ask. He just made the decision and expected her to agree.

Well, the talk was her idea and he had reluctantly gone along with it. So let him be high-handed about choosing the site. She had intended to meet in the restaurant anyway.

They walked across the parking lot in awkward silence. She wondered again whether she was doing the right thing, or whether she should keep mum and avoid the risk of triggering further suspicions from Kale.

If her timing would prove to be bad, or if he would lose his temper again and pull her within his body force as he had done before, she would once again find him kindling wild sensations, wrecking her inner balance.

Too late, she recognized she was only dreading the aftermath, not the experience.