Untamed Desire (9 page)

A slight smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “I apologize, too. For this afternoon.”

“Forget it. It’s like Ray was saying—we’re all edgy from overwork and have to let off steam somehow.” She grinned. “Maybe Danziger did have the right idea. A good, stiff belt might help.”

Jim shrugged lazily. “I know of a few other tranquilizers that are far more enjoyable.”

Storm caught the glint in his eyes and returned his smile. “Yes, there are other things,” she agreed softly, turning to finish the post-flight paperwork—and to hide her nervousness.

She raised her head a few moments later. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this about Danziger, but—”

“Woman’s intuition?” he prodded.

She shrugged. “Call it that. Do you object?”

His smile was warm. “Not at all.”

She put the pen down on her reports, trying to find the correct words. “Of all the pilots I met the first day, Danziger was the only one who made me feel uneasy. It had something to do with the way he looks and walks, and with the nasty comments he made about me.”

“Danziger was a military pilot for two tours, Storm,” Jim explained. “War takes a terrible toll on a person, and he’s no exception. He’s a little rough around the edges, that’s all. A military man.”

“He’s militaristic, Jim,” she amended. She waved her hands in a gesture of frustration. “I don’t trust him, and I’ve always been glad you never signed me up to fly with him.”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Jim admitted.

“See? You agree!”

“What?”

“That he’s not trustworthy.”

“He’s a good pilot,” he countered. “He can make an aircraft do things I’ve never seen any other pilot do.”

Storm shivered and returned to her paperwork. “He’s dangerous,” she said with finality, “and don’t ask me to explain why I feel that way.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about it any longer. Dan fired him outright and now the rest of us have to shoulder his load on top of everything else.”

“Are you sorry he’s gone?”

“No. It’s been coming on for quite a while. I’m just sorry it happened at the height of the season.”

Silence fell between them, yet Storm didn’t feel uncomfortable about it this time. Finally, Jim leaned over the desk and took the pen out of her hand. “That’s enough work, Storm. I think you need a few lessons in how to relax. Come on, get your purse and coat and let’s go.”

Storm colored. “Go where?”

“Home. To my place. I make good popcorn over the fire, and there’s a bottle of French burgundy I’ve been waiting to share with someone special. Interested?”

She smiled shyly. “It sounds nice, Jim. But—” her laugh was infectious “—there’s one condition. Well, actually two.”

He nodded. “Name them.”

“That we don’t argue, and that I can have butter on my popcorn.”

He held out his hand. “You’ve got them. A truce for the night and butter on the lady’s popcorn.”

STORM LEANED BACK
against a pillow, facing the open fire, a half-full wineglass in her hand. The fire crackled, sending out a pleasant warmth, and she stretched out languidly on the bearskin rug. Jim refilled her glass and set two bowls of popcorn beside her.

“Two bowls?” she asked.

“I don’t like butter on mine.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Just another difference between you and me.” She laughed.

Jim smiled as he nibbled on a handful of popcorn. “I prefer to call it another dimension of our individual personalities.” He sipped the wine, a warm gleam in his eyes. “How would you describe this?” He held up his partially filled glass.

“It’s half-empty.”

“It’s half-full. You’ve been conditioned to see it as a loss, not a gain.”

Storm glared at him. “Are you trying to tell me I’m a pessimist?”

“Now, take it easy. Don’t get that lovely Irish dander up tonight. I’m just pointing out that perhaps you should readjust the way you see things.”

“You mean I should change my perceptions.”

“Broaden them,” he corrected gently.

Storm shrugged and set down the crystal glass. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what you accused me of earlier today.” The words came out haltingly, laced with pain. “You have to understand something, Jim. I—I’ve struggled to succeed in a business that hasn’t always been receptive to a woman pilot. Men have constantly tried to dismiss my ability. I’ve had to be better at everything to compensate. Until I was twenty-seven I shied away from all men. If I dated a pilot, sooner or later he’d start to compete with me. The men I went out with who weren’t pilots didn’t like adjusting to my flight schedule.” She shrugged again and stole a glance at him. “I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t.”

Jim set the bowls aside and pulled Storm into his arms. “Go on,” he coaxed gently. “What about your ex-husband? How did he fit into your life?”

Perhaps it was the wine, or the fact that it was very late and she was exhausted. Whatever it was, Storm didn’t fight her need simply to be near Jim. She rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes half-closed as she watched the flames licking up the chimney.

“Jack was a pilot, terribly flamboyant, good-natured and confident of his ability as both a pilot and a lover. I was cool, detached and competent. I was at an all-time low when I met him. I was so lonely that, when I look back on it now, I wonder if I might not have fallen for anyone who came along.”

“Did you love him?”

She sighed and nodded. “Yes, I did.”

She wanted to add that since meeting Jim, her perception of love had changed drastically. What she felt for Jim was strong and good and deep, not the fluttery giddiness she’d felt for Jack.

“Did he try to compete with you, too?” Jim asked.

“Not at first. I was a flight instructor at another school, and he was setting up his own school. He managed to lure me away. I became the chief instructor and manager.”

“Was that before or after you got married?”

“After.”

“And then?”

“Then,” she murmured sadly. “We’d been married only a year when he began to change. He accused me of spending too much time at the school. He said I wasn’t home—” she swallowed hard “—to make love to him.”

“But weren’t you doing the heavy management and bookkeeping plus handling teaching duties?” Jim asked.

“Yes, and I tried to explain that to him,” she went on. “I didn’t want the supervisory responsibility, but Jack was terrible with figures, and if I didn’t keep a tight rein on the money, it ran right through his fingers. But he was an excellent instructor, and between us we built a very successful business.”

“Were there any other instructors to take part of your load?”

“No. Jack felt we could save money if we did all the teaching ourselves.”

“And he still wanted you to play hausfrau, wife and lover?”

Storm managed a small laugh. Jim made it sound like a ridiculous load to carry. But at the time she hadn’t been able to see the situation clearly. “I’m afraid I flunked the hausfrau and wife roles,” she confided.

“And the role of lover?” he asked softly.

Storm pulled away, her eyes filled with hurt. “Yes,” she answered finally, “I failed that, too.” She folded her hands in her lap and stared into the fire. “Jack used our deteriorating relationship as an excuse to have affairs.”

Jim drew Storm back into his arms. At that moment, it took every ounce of her control to keep from sobbing. She wrapped her arms about his waist, content to rest against his body, listening to the beat of his strong, steady heart.

“The fact of it was, Irish storm goddess,” Jim whispered, “you were working twelve-to-fifteen hours a day and then coming home exhausted.”

Storm sniffed. “You make it sound as if I should have been able to see my mistake then.”

Jim chuckled gently. “No, honey. We rarely see the forest for the trees. I just want to help you put your past in the proper perspective.”

Storm frowned. “I don’t understand.” Jim leaned over and kissed her forehead. “All I’m saying is that you worked long and hard to establish yourself in the airline industry. Couple that with your effort to fulfill the demands of a husband who used you to fulfill his own dreams, and you can see how narrow your existence has been. You don’t know how to relax and enjoy life, that’s all.”

He smiled tenderly, forcing her chin up until their eyes met. “I want to show you how to enjoy life, Storm. I want to hear you laugh. To see your blue eyes wide with pleasure when I make love to you,” he whispered, his breath moist and warm against her cheek.

His mouth curved across her parted lips in a tender kiss. She leaned upward, wanting more of his gentle strength. His words echoed melodiously in her thoughts as she pressed against his body. He groaned, his arms slipping tightly around her. Nuzzling her neck with light, provocative kisses, he growled, “I can’t live without you, Storm. God knows, I tried to avoid you for three weeks.” He pulled away, his eyes turbulent with barely constrained passion.

She gave him a startled look. “You—you were avoiding me?”

He sighed, slipping his fingers through her thick copper hair. “I tried to tell myself that what I felt for you wouldn’t last. That when I didn’t see you, I’d forget you.” He laughed softly. “I’ve been miserable without you, Storm. I missed your voice, your ideas. I love watching you.” He leaned down, kissing her nose. “Do you have any idea how many emotions register on your face?”

Storm was stunned by Jim’s admission, and suddenly her old uncertainties reared their ugly heads. Even as her heart blossomed with love for him, her thoughts spiraled back to the past, shattering her fragile sense of self-worth. She rose hastily to her feet and moved away, her back to the fireplace.

“Is this your way of getting me to quit my job?” she demanded huskily.

She wanted to recall her harsh words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Jim stood up and stared at her across the room, his eyes flashing silver fire. She wrapped her arms about herself, unable to meet his gaze.

“Are you telling me you don’t want me around?” he asked harshly.

“I—I don’t know.” Her voice sounded uncertain, and she hated her indecision. He had been trying to fire her for three months now, and she didn’t know whether to believe her heart or her distrustful head. She rubbed her forehead, her eyes large and dazed. “Please, Jim, I need time. Time to think. I’m so mixed up….”

He seemed to relax. “All right,” he agreed. “You’re tired, and maybe I’ve unloaded too much on you. Let me take you home.”

She nodded dumbly and went to get her coat.

Later that night, after Jim had dropped her off at her apartment, Storm lay in bed listening to the clock ticking in the darkness. Jim had walked her to the door without making a move to touch her. That hurt even more. Was his saying he cared for her just another devious method to put her off her guard and then get her to quit? Or was he telling the truth? Was he really falling in love with her?

Storm groaned and turned onto her stomach. Why couldn’t life be simple and straightforward? Damn Jack for turning her into a defensive, distrustful person. Damn herself for not being strong enough—brave enough—to escape his invisible hold on her.

The second day of November dawned clear and cold. Storm slept until noon and awakened groggy and depressed. A hot bath helped somewhat, as did a careful application of makeup. Staring at herself in the mirror, Storm realized how pale she looked. There was a heavy, painful feeling in her chest, and she touched her mint-green blouse absently. Why couldn’t she wipe out her past and just believe Jim without mistrusting his actions?

She tied her hair in a kelly-green ribbon, then untied it in disgust, allowing her hair to tumble loosely around her shoulders. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she wanted Jim to notice her. He made her feel attractive, and more feminine than she’d ever felt before. Anxiously, she picked up her coat and shoulder bag, eager to get to the office.

Stella looked up worriedly when Storm entered.

“What’s wrong, Stella?” she asked, hanging up her coat.

“It’s Oscelot, honey. He just radioed in with engine trouble.”

Storm frowned. “Again?”

“What do you mean
again?”
Dan Bradford demanded to know as he walked into the room.

Storm turned. “When I was flying in last night, the oil gauge dropped on the Aztec’s starboard engine. Jim said the plane had just undergone inspection.”

Dan shook his gray head and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I sure don’t want to blame Charlie and Rex, the mechanics. They’ve been with me since the beginning. Their work is impeccable,” he muttered. He shuffled off to the other side of the room to watch the air-traffic flow patterns around the airport.

Storm glanced at Stella. “Where’s Jim?” she asked.

“In the control tower. Oscelot’s plane lost all inside power. His aircraft has no cabin electricity. This is awful.”

Storm nodded, moistening her lips. “Things always happen in threes.”

“What?”

“I said things always happen in threes. First the oil pressure on my plane and now Oscelot’s. I wonder who’s next.”

“Don’t talk like that, honey!” Stella ordered. “With bad weather lurking just around the corner and us flying out the bulk of the hunters now, we don’t need a third problem!”

Storm was scheduled to fly within an hour. As much as she wanted to be with Jim, she knew she had to check out her plane. She drove to the hangar, firmly determined to go over the aircraft in minute detail to make doubly sure nothing was wrong with it. The hangar was empty, and her steps echoed eerily. The other company-owned Aztec stood gracefully in the center, its red-and-white surface gleaming dully in the dim lights. Indistinct shadows crisscrossed the area above her head.

Running her fingertips skillfully across the wing elevators, tail rudder and other assembly points, Storm missed nothing. She stood with her hands on her hips as she critically surveyed the engines beneath the gleaming cowl covers. Slipping her hand over the slick expanse, she gave the plane a final pat and then boarded.

In the cockpit, the silence deepened. She looked up, feeling as if something were missing but not knowing what. Perhaps it was the unusual silence. Usually Rex puttered around the hangar or Charlie was there to guide her out with hand signals. Now even the distant roar of a jet taking off sounded muted.

As Storm flipped on the ignition, her thoughts lingered on Oscelot. She knew from experience that a plane without power was dangerous but not critical. Without working electrical circuits, the retractable landing gear would have to be cranked down manually. There would be no light to tell Oscelot that the gear was locked in place. He could only pray that it didn’t fold up under him on landing. Dan would have trucks stationed along the runway and foam laid out to prevent fire-causing sparks in case the landing gear failed and the plane landed on its belly.

Storm’s stomach churned threateningly, and she paused, resting the clipboard on her lap. A wave of nausea hit her, and she closed her eyes.

Taking a steadying breath, she concentrated on her tasks. Maybe she should have eaten something before taking off for Camp Two. Well, it was a short jaunt, and the hunters were sure to have food left after their week in the interior. She would get a candy bar or something from them.

Suddenly, she felt extremely alone. Her overwhelming desire to have Jim in the copilot’s seat was almost unbearable. She could no longer deny the longings of her heart, and she looked up, gazing forlornly across the empty tarmac toward the tower.

It was late afternoon by the time Storm returned to Anchorage with the hunters. This time she paid more attention to the dials and gauges, dreading the possibility of a third accident. Some soda crackers given to her by one of the hunters had helped to quell her continuing nausea.

She brightened as she saw Jim waiting out on the apron for her as she taxied the Aztec in from the runway. She waved, and he waved back, although his face was dark with concern. Storm wondered if Oscelot had made it safely into the airport.

As the hunters deplaned, jubilant because they had bagged a huge elk, Jim climbed aboard. He smiled tightly and sat down in the copilot’s seat.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“If you’re asking about the plane’s performance, fine.” She pushed a lock of hair off her forehead and leaned back in the seat.

“Good. How about you? You look pale as hell.”

She grimaced. “Thank you very much,” she replied sarcastically. “I feel rotten.”

Jim’s hands massaged her shoulders and she sighed, closing her eyes and leaning forward to rest her cheek against him. “If I give you a compliment,” he said, a tinge of humor in his voice, “you’ll think I’ve got ulterior motives.”

Storm opened her eyes to gaze into his handsome, relaxed features. “I had that coming, didn’t I?”

“Well, it’s been a hell of a day. I wanted to say you look absolutely beautiful, pale or not. By the way, Oscelot made it down okay.”

“Thank God.” Storm sat up and Jim’s hands slipped down to imprison her fingers. “Jim, this worries me. Two planes in two days. I’ve been here long enough to know that our mechanics don’t do slipshod work.”