Space in His Heart
Read Space in His Heart Online
Authors: Roxanne St. Claire
Tags: #romantic suspense military hero astronaut roxanne st claire contemporary romance
Space in His Heart
Roxanne St. Claire
Copyright © 2011 by Roxanne St. Claire
Smashwords Edition
ISBN: 978-1-4524-6337-7
Editor: Anne Victory
Proofreader: Amy Eye
Cover Design: Kim Killion
This book is a work of fiction. Any
references to historical events, real people, or real locales are
used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents
are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to
actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
coincidental.
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Dedicated with all my love to my
husband...this story and these characters would never have happened
without him.
July 8, 2011
Merritt Island, Florida
Normally, a cloudy day in July was blessing
in Florida, a reprieve from the relentless sun and oppressive heat.
Today, the sheer white film across the summer sky only meant bad
news for Jessica Marlowe. She wouldn’t see more than a brief
glimpse of the shuttle
Atlantis
as it took off for the final
mission in space.
Disappointment pressed on her heart, real
enough to cause a physical ache. Maybe she should have gone to
Kennedy and braved the crowds to sit in the VIP section with those
she held dear, just to witness the majesty of a space shuttle
launch up close one last time. Maybe it would have been worth the
risk.
But common sense had prevailed. No doubt she
would’ve cried, and she was enough of an emotional wreck without
something like the final launch to put her over the edge. The ache
in her chest pushed harder, like a weight on her solar plexus, a
reminder of what was about to happen, how her world was about to
change one more time.
Funny how you make plans… and God has a
little chuckle at your expense.
Glancing inside the house, she squinted at
the muted TV, a picture of
Atlantis
on the launch pad,
billows of steam and smoke surrounding four and a half million
pounds of rocket power. In the corner, the countdown clock ticked
to T-minus four minutes. No one had to tell Jess what that meant:
the crew would close and lock their visors now.
Though there certainly was a time when she
had no idea what T-minus
anything
meant.
At that thought, she touched her queasy
belly. It was the launch, of course. Every takeoff terrified her,
ever since the first one she’d seen twelve years earlier. Each time
the countdown clock started ticking, she feared for someone’s life,
for the loss of a dear friend, a respected colleague or… worse.
So she tried only to think about the miracle
of how they got up there, stayed up there, learned and lived up
there and then came home.
A miracle that happened almost every time.
Almost
.
No surprise, the beach outside her
second-story balcony was jammed with tourists and space fans
gathered at one of the area’s best launch-viewing sites. Her gaze
drifted past the crowd to the gunmetal-gray ocean, then north to
Kennedy Space Center, a sprawling complex of science and hope,
filled with men and women who lived, breathed… and died… for their
dream of exploring space.
A roar from the beach crowd pulled her
attention back to the TV to check the clock. T-minus thirty
seconds. The onboard computers were taking over. More importantly,
most every technological glitch had been conquered.
Launch was a go.
The pressure in her stomach suddenly shifted
to stabbing pain, sharp enough to make her suck in a shocked
breath. Lightheaded, she used the other hand to hold on to the
railing.
“Whoa,” she whispered, shocked by the
intensity of the pain. Gripping the railing for balance, she looked
over her shoulder at the countdown clock. Sixteen seconds. They’d
fire up the main engine in ten seconds.
All those lives on board…
A wave of dizziness threatened and she closed
her eyes, swamped with memories so vivid she swore she could smell
the burn of liquid hydrogen, the pungent stink of fuel and fury
that hung in the air after a launch.
The crowd began to chant the numbers, loud
and slow and perfectly in unison.
The sound reminded her of another launch, on
a crystal-clear day full of promise and possibilities, her hands
locked with two people she’d barely known then. But they’d shared a
bond, a mutual love of their son. He knows what he’s doing, his
father had said.
Deke can fly anything
.
Ten… nine…
The knife in her belly suddenly slid and cut
deeper, making Jess whimper softly. Holy smokes, that hurt.
Eight… seven…
Two stories below, hundreds of people blurred
in her vision, the roar of their counting barely getting through
the throbbing beat of her pulse in her ears. Another agonizing fist
punched low and hard, and her knees nearly buckled.
Six… five…
She backed into the house, momentarily
blinded by the pain, grabbing for the metal rim of the sliding
glass doors but missing, then stumbling awkwardly to the floor.
Think, Jess, think
.
Where’s the cell phone?
Four… three…
Beads of sweat stung her forehead as she
crawled to the table, slapping her hand over the phone. Shaky hands
made dialing the number nearly impossible. She pressed the green
button, looked for the last call…
Two… One…
Please answer. Please, please
answer
.
“There it is!” The screams floated up from
the beach, the excitement of witnessing a miracle in every
voice.
On the second ring, Jess managed to open her
eyes and look up at the clouds just as the fiery plume appeared for
a brief few seconds, orange and huge and headed for space.
“God speed,
Atlantis
.” She could
barely whisper the send-off as she doubled over with searing
pain.
“Jess? Are you watching? Can you see it? A
flawless launch!”
She opened her mouth but another wave of pain
brought only a grunt.
“Wait, I can’t hear you… there’s so much
noise here. Are you watching the launch?”
Her gaze slipped to the TV screen—the
shuttle, well past the bridal veil of clouds, hurtling toward
orbit, caught by cameras much closer than she.
“Jess?
Jess
? Are you okay? Answer
me!”
But she couldn’t speak. Her lids heavy, she
tried to focus. At the bottom of the television, the familiar NASA
insignia burned bright and proud, white and blue, tried and true.
That logo… those letters… they’d once meant nothing to her.
Then they changed her life. That symbol even
saved someone’s life a long time ago.
“Jessie! Answer me!”
She gave in and closed her eyes, the image of
that emblem burning her lids and her memory, only able to whisper
one word.
“Deke…”
New York City, 1999
An intruder had taken the place that Jessica
Marlowe had worked tirelessly for six years to earn. In the coveted
spot next to the president of the world’s largest public relations
agency sat a sunny, phony, conspiring interloper who twirled her
hair and shared a laugh with Mr. Anthony Palermo. Only Carla Drake
called their boss “Tony.” Already. After only two weeks at the
agency.
Jeez. It had taken Jessica two years to work
up the nerve to call him Tony.
With as much poise and nonchalance as she
could muster, Jessica strode to the opposite end of the table and
laid her Palm Pilot in front of an empty chair. She wouldn’t muscle
or flirt her way next to the boss. She could do so much better than
that. She settled into the buttery leather, willing herself to be
as cool and calm as her rival.
She would outsmart Carla from California.
Right here, right now. At this worldwide meeting of the top brains
in Ross & Clayton Communications, Jessica Marlowe would remind
Tony Palermo who was his best team player, his most creative vice
president, and the most logical choice for general manager of the
Boston office. She’d hit a home run and leave Carla choking in her
dust.
She just had no earthly idea how.
For a moment, she listened to the buzz of hip
and conservative Type A’s, charged with caffeine and the thrill of
being part of the elite think-tank session in the international
agency’s New York headquarters. An invitation to the forty-ninth
floor conference room on the first Monday of the month meant they’d
made it to the top, literally and figuratively. Called in from Los
Angeles, Seattle, Chicago, Atlanta, and, like Jessica, Boston, they
would concentrate on one client’s problem and no one would leave
until they’d solved it. Hopefully with a plan that would make the
agency beaucoup bucks.
It was bad enough the slinky blonde had blown
into the Boston office two weeks earlier and been named “the other”
vice president, essentially making her Jessica’s professional
equal. The fact that she’d gotten the coveted invitation to the New
York meeting really rankled Jessica’s nerves.
It didn’t matter. Carla could be sitting next
to God himself, but the better idea won in this room.
Suddenly, a low-pitched rumble drowned out
the hum of conversation as electronic room darkeners slid across
the massive wall of glass and eliminated the breathtaking view of
Manhattan. A young man with thinning hair and black-rimmed glasses
stood at the far end of the conference table, wearing Armani head
to toe and an expectant expression on his angular face. Until this
moment, no one in the room knew what the subject of today’s think
tank would be. He tilted his head toward the screen behind him as
four white letters slowly emerged out of an azure background.
NASA. Silently, he clicked to the next slide.
Jessica read the words with a sinking sensation of dread. National
Aeronautics and Space Administration.
Oh, great.
Space
.
Jessica shifted in her seat and resisted the
urge to rub her temples as she stared at the slide. Why couldn’t it
be like last month when they came up with a way to get more people
on cruise ships in the summer? Or the time she’d masterminded the
Free Fry-Day campaign for a fast-food chain?
Jessica looked up just in time to see Carla
shoot a cocky smile at the presenter. Had she been in on the space
secret?