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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.
Chapter 2
Linc couldn’t believe he was seeing Shelly again so soon. If she were a ghost, she’d be haunting him.
He could have let her sneak out without mention, but when he saw her tense posture and averted gaze, he forgot all plans to charm her. Something about her absolute disdain for him made him want to push her buttons.
Colonel Murphy had made them promise to be professional, but this was after hours.
He could see Shelly’s shoulders stiffen as she spun around to face him. With a fake smile plastered on her face, she dragged her feet over to the table where he and his date were sitting.
“Commander Ripley, what a surprise.” Her tone was barely civil.
“Come on, Shelly. Now that we’re going to be such good friends, there’s no need to be so formal. Call me Linc or Lightning. And this is my date, Anisa Tyler. Anisa, this is Shelly.”
Shelly studied Anisa. “Weren’t you on the last season of Make Me a Supermodel? That’s one of my favorite shows.”
It was odd to see Shelly smile at Anisa. Her smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds. Since she’d only given him stormy days, he hadn’t known she was capable of producing sunshine. He was amazed at how much it softened her face, but the fact that she’d been withholding that softness from him set his temper off again.
While Anisa and Shelly exchanged pleasantries, Linc couldn’t take his eyes off the broad reddish stain on Shelly’s blouse. “I see you had some of Moe’s famous barbecue sauce.”
Shelly fingered the stain without looking down. “That’s right. I liked it so much, I had to take some home with me.”
Anisa cackled like a chicken and then started rummaging through her tiny purse. “I think I have something for that,” she said, pulling out a bleach stick. “This should take that right out.”
Shelly leaned over, and Anisa swabbed the stick over the stain. Right before their eyes, it started disappearing. “Will you look at that,” Shelly exclaimed. “I’m going to have to get one of those.”
“You can have mine. I have tons of them at home,” said Anisa.
Linc watched their exchange in disbelief. Within minutes, Shelly slid into the booth next to his date. She then began plugging the number for Anisa’s hair salon into her cell phone.
Anisa and Shelly were getting along great…to the point where they’d completely forgotten his existence.
He never would have pegged Shelly and Anisa as fast friends. They couldn’t have less in common. If Anisa was a peacock, then Shelly was a brown peahen. From what he could see, in the short time they’d been around one another, she never did anything special with her hair and always wore clothes that were dull and colorless.
Of course, Anisa probably could stand to wear a little less makeup. And sometimes her clothes were so fashion-forward that Linc felt a bit embarrassed for her.
Snapping out of his reverie, Linc realized he had to get rid of Shelly before she threw his date completely off track.
“Well, Shelly, we don’t want to keep you. After all, it’s Friday, and you must have plans,” he said.
Refusing to take the bait, Shelly leveled her eyes at him. “No, no plans. Unless you count a date with my pillow and blanket,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “It was great meeting you, Anisa. Thanks for the hair salon tip. I’m going to check it out.”
Linc watched Shelly walk out of the restaurant, wishing he’d let her sneak away unnoticed, after all.
True to her word, Shelly went straight to bed when she got home. But going to bed a hair before ten o’clock threw off her internal clock, and she was wide awake at five in the morning.
She’d gone to bed feeling proud and confident at the way she’d handled her potentially uncomfortable run-in with Linc. But this morning, in the dawning light of day, she realized how she must have looked to him—like a single woman who desperately needed a bib when she dined alone on Friday nights.
It was only the fact that Shelly knew Linc already held her in fairly low regard that had allowed her to keep her composure through his teasing jabs at her appearance and empty social calendar. It was a tool she’d developed in high school, when the popular girls made fun of her lack of designer handbags and stylish clothes.
In high school she’d been a nerd, and she’d known it. There had been little point in trying to impress girls she had no chance of competing with. But in college she’d started wearing makeup, and she’d had a roommate who talked her into growing her hair long so she could teach her how to do fun things with it. Her whole life had changed then. Men had started asking her out, and she began to realize that she was an attractive woman.
She hadn’t felt otherwise until now. She knew what Linc saw when he looked at her. He saw the plain, unpopular girl she’d been in high school. He had no idea that she’d learned to work with what she had. He didn’t know that she’d just been too busy to put in the effort since she’d come to Houston.
Staring in her bathroom mirror, Shelly blanched when she realized that she was actually worrying over what Lincoln Ripley thought of her. Why should she care if he saw her as attractive? She certainly didn’t think of him in that way.
Well, he was attractive—if you liked movie-star handsome. But that didn’t mean she wanted to date him. Even if they didn’t work together, they’d never get along. Two dates and they’d probably kill each other.
Running her hands through her frizzled mess, Shelly almost convinced herself that she shouldn’t improve her image, just to spite Linc. But she quickly reminded herself that not fixing herself up for fear of what Linc might think was just as bad.
Even though it was Saturday, Shelly had planned to pull out her laptop and finish up the training procedures for Monday’s session. Instead, she found herself looking up Anisa’s hair salon online. It looked like a very swanky place in the photographs, and a quick click on the services page showed that their prices reflected as much.
Shelly made a very healthy salary, and truth be told, she could probably afford to pay a couple hundred dollars for her hair. But her common sense wouldn’t let her do it.
Exiting to her Web browser, Shelly searched for a more sensible option. She found a reasonably priced salon that was only ten minutes from her house. And they even allowed her to make an appointment online.
After requesting an appointment for mid-morning, Shelly headed for the shower, vowing to unpack the rest of her clothes when she returned. It wouldn’t hurt to have some more stylish options for work now that training was getting under way.
Miss Celia’s Salon was not quite what Shelly was expecting when she arrived for her appointment later that morning. From the polished Web site and the high-tech online appointment system, Shelly was expecting the building to possess a degree of sophistication.
Unfortunately, Miss Celia’s Salon had seen better days. Paint-chipped walls and torn leather chairs underscored the salon’s need for a face-lift. Still, Shelly remained optimistic. It didn’t matter what the shop looked like as long as Miss Celia could do some hair.
“Can I help you?” an older woman asked.
“I’m Shelly London. I’m here for my ten o’clock appointment.”
“I’m Miss Celia,” the older woman said, clasping Shelly’s hand between both of hers. The older woman had warm dark eyes and short salt-and-pepper curls. “I know this is your first time here, but we hope it won’t be your last.”
Miss Celia’s pleasant demeanor put Shelly at ease. The woman slipped behind the reception desk and started typing on her computer. “It looks like Tonya will be doing your hair today. Please help yourself to some coffee, and she’ll be right with you.”
The prospect of finally having her hair done properly put Shelly in a good mood. “I really loved your Web site. It’s what convinced me to give your shop a try.”
Miss Celia’s face lit up. “Thank you. My grandson Troy designed it for me. He’s a computer science major at the University of Houston. He swore to me it would bring in new business. Now I can sure enough tell him he was right.”
After Shelly finished her coffee, Tonya escorted her back to the shampoo bowl. A young stylist, Tonya seemed nice enough as she made small talk with Shelly. And she gave her a fantastic scalp massage.
“I’m just going to put in your conditioner,” Tonya said. “Then you can sit up for about ten minutes before I wash it out.”
Just as Tonya started working the conditioner through Shelly’s scalp, Miss Celia, who was shampooing a client two bowls over, said, “Hey, is that my Silky Tresses moisturizing conditioner?”
Shelly’s eyes snapped open at Miss Celia’s tone. Tonya looked at the bottle in her hand. “Yeah. I borrowed yours because mine ran out.”
“What did I tell you about borrowing my supplies?” Miss Celia scolded. “Each stylist is responsible for buying her own products.”
Tonya’s neck swiveled as she spoke, her anger rising. “I didn’t have time to buy my own supplies, because you’ve been overbooking my clients.”
Now Miss Celia, who had seemed so sweet just moments ago, had her hands on her hips as she shouted back at Tonya. “If you can’t handle the work, you know what to do.”
Before Shelly could take that in, a bottle of conditioner whizzed past her face.
“Here! Take your funky conditioner. Too bad your mamma never taught you to share,” screeched Tonya.
Shelly lifted her soaking-wet head out of the bowl in time to see Miss Celia duck the flying bottle. “Oh, it’s on now!” shouted the older woman.
Shelly sat up, openmouthed, as the two women lunged at each other. Tonya had Miss Celia by the waist and was pushing her backward into the wall. Miss Celia reached down, grabbed a chunk of Tonya’s hair and pulled.
Two more stylists rushed around the corner, and Shelly clutched her chest in relief. Finally, someone was going to break this up.
Instead, the two women stopped a safe distance away, and one said to the other, “Aw shucks, there they go again.”
Shelly had seen enough. Without looking back, she stood up and headed straight for the door. Without bothering to remove her cape, she ran across the parking lot to her car, with her wet hair dripping down her back.
Spacecraft simulator maneuvers began Monday morning, and Linc made sure he was early for the pre-training briefing. He couldn’t give Shelly yet another reason to question his commitment to the mission.
He showed up at a quarter to the hour, expecting Shelly to already be there or show up minutes later. He sat down on the table at the head of the room, near where she would likely sit. Propping his heel on the table so he could rest his arm on his knee, he was strategically situated to be the first thing she would see when she walked in.
The effect was lost when the rest of the team started filing in, and Shelly was still nowhere to be found. “Hey, Randy. Hi, Mitch,” Linc said, exchanging hand slaps first with the copilot and then with the mission specialist on the Alpha team.
“There he is, Lightning himself,” Dustin Chambers said, pausing in the doorway. “You know what they say, though, don’t you? Lightning never strikes twice.”
Linc resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the commander of the Beta team, the team that would take over flying Draco if something happened to his team. “It’s just a nickname. Like yours. After all, just because they call you Dusty doesn’t mean they think that you’re old.”
Dusty was ten years older than Linc’s thirty-six years, and Linc always felt the two of them couldn’t get along because the older man resented all that Linc had accomplished in such a short period of time.
That and the fact that if it weren’t for Linc’s space shuttle heroics eighteen months ago, Dusty would have been leading the Alpha team.
After Dusty, the rest of the Beta team–—namely, Vince and Paul—trailed in, followed by Quincy, Jason and Raj from Shelly’s engineering team.
But it wasn’t until nearly twenty minutes later that Shelly finally appeared. She flew over the threshold with two overstuffed binders in her arms.
Linc looked at his watch and clucked in disappointment. “I was starting to think that I was going to have to run this meeting myself. Ms. London, I’d hate to think you weren’t taking this mission seriously, as being late for the first day of training clearly shows.”
Some of the other guys in the room gasped or oohed under their breath.
Shelly glared at Linc, muttering, “My alarm clock never went off.” Setting her binders on the corner of the table, she pushed them until Linc was forced to slip off the edge. “I apologize for being late, team. We have a lot to cover, so let’s not waste any more time.”
Choking down her fluster, Shelly tried not to lose control of the briefing before it started. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how she’d become such a total spaz since arriving in Houston. Back in D.C. everyone had respected her. Here, no matter how hard she tried to get one step ahead, she kept falling behind. Shelly was starting to think that Houston was just bad luck.
After her disaster at the hair salon, she’d been forced to wash out the sticky conditioner the hairdresser had half applied to her hair. Since it hadn’t been applied evenly, it created two strangely different textures in her hair. Where the conditioner had been concentrated, her hair was extra wavy; the rest was tangled and matted.
It had taken two washings to get her hair halfway back to normal. But, as a result, she had to wear it in another gel-slicked bun. Because she’d been preoccupied with her hair all day Saturday, she’d been up late Sunday night, going over her training procedures.
She’d forgotten to set her alarm clock, and the rest was history. Linc had lain in wait, ready to mock her. But she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting in her head.
“Okay, team. We all know that we’re on a tough deadline for GRM. You all have flown on space shuttle missions in the past, and you’re here because you’re the best at what you do. Therefore, our training is going to focus only on the areas where Draco is different from the space shuttle. Unfortunately, there are many significant differences, and we’re going to have to account for them during these sessions.” Shelly looked from one astronaut to another. “Let’s talk about the most significant difference. Anybody?”
Vince Patrecchio, the Beta team copilot, nodded to her. “The air launch. Draco is going to be strapped to the bottom of a B-52 aircraft and launched from forty thousand feet.”
“That’s right,” said Shelly. “This allows us to keep this mission secret, since there won’t be a high-profile rocket launch. Since we have to cram several months of training events into the next eight weeks, training has been divided into three phases. The computer simulations for launch, docking and landing, which we’re starting today. Practice related to the maneuverability of Draco’s extension arm will take place in the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, and finally, we’ll be doing flight testing at Edwards Air Force Base in the Mojave Desert.”
Shelly walked to the blackboard and wrote out the launch simulator exercises for the day. “One difference between Draco and the space shuttle is the thrusters. So we’re going to practice—”
Randy snickered next to Linc. “The last thing this team needs to practice is thrusting. Lightning definitely has that down.”