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Dan began to bring the nose back down at thirty-five thousand. At forty thousand the Phantom had struck Mach 2. He could feel the aircraft sloughing off the sticky drag of the low subsonic region. The higher they climbed, the less air there was to slow them down. At forty-five thousand, he leveled out the F-4. “Well?” he asked, grinning, “what do you think?”
Chris gave a shaky laugh. “Things happened so fast that my thinking was way behind the plane! It’s wonderful! What a thrill!”
Dan’s eyes crinkled with pleasure. Her voice mirrored her happiness. She loved flying as much as he did. That mass of metal, wire and circuitry was a living extension of himself, docile beneath his hand, ready to obey his every command. “Take the stick,” he ordered.
Chris slid her gloved fingers around the column. She felt Dan release the stick and rudders to her command and now, she was flying the incredible F-4 Phantom.
For two hours they flew in a restricted flight area over the Mojave. Chris’s initial excitement settled down as Dan began to teach her how to handle the Phantom. She was pleased with Dan’s technique as an instructor. His explanations and orders were easy to follow, and it made the flight that much more thrilling.
“Just remember,” Dan was saying as she reluctantly made the final banking turn that would take them back to Edwards. “Never allow the Phantom to fly at too high an angle of attack.”
“What happens if she goes out of her controlled flight envelope?” Chris wanted to know, restlessly scanning the gauges as she flew the fighter.
“First the nose will abruptly yaw from side to side. And almost simultaneously, it will start to pitch up and down and will depart from controlled flight. And if you don’t catch it right then, it will go into spin. From there, if you’re anywhere around ten thousand feet or less, you eject.”
Chris compressed her dry lips. Her mouth always felt cottony after being on one-hundred-percent oxygen for over an hour. She reached up, adjusting the soft rubber mask against her face. Her skin always itched beneath it! And if she had worn make up, it would have broken the airtight seal of the mask against her skin. If that occurred, she might die of hypoxia, or lack of oxygen. “Is it mandatory if the F-4 is in a spin at ten thousand you automatically bail out?”
She heard Dan’s grim chuckle. “You try and pull this ugly bird out of a dive at less than ten thousand, and it’ll be a mad race between you and the dirt as to whether or not you can pull it out in time, Raven. Don’t chance it. Punch out and live to tell about it.”
The past two hours spent with Dan hadn’t seemed like an instructor-student relationship. Instead, it had been a wonderful time spent between two adults who both became childlike when they flew in the arms of the sky. Dan’s voice was always warm, coaxing and praising her performance. The few times he had had to correct her were done without rebuke and only in a matter-of-fact tone. She never had to be told more than once, either. “But has anyone tried to kick this bird out of a dive below ten and live to tell about it without punching out?” she wanted to know.
“Not many,” he returned grimly.
She nodded. “Not very forgiving, is she?”
“No. She can damn well be your coffin if you start messing around with her in flight. This isn’t a fighter to play with.”
Back on the ground, Chris felt like a shackled eagle once again. Instead of taking the ramp vehicle back to the school, Dan talked her into walking the quarter mile. It was cold and the wind was cutting. Chris zipped up her green flight jacket. She was glad for Dan’s closeness beside her as the darkness engulfed them. Her black hair, once in a chignon and plastered down over her skull from wearing the helmet, blew in silky abandon, barely brushing her shoulders. She reached up, pulling several strands from her eyes. Her heart swelled with happiness and her step was buoyant.
Dan glanced over at her, aware of the light and dark shadows playing across her face. How had Chris grown more beautiful? Those violet eyes were wide and lustrous. Her lips were curved softly upward at the corners, as if she was smiling about some happy secret known only to herself. Most of all, he liked her proud, easy carriage. She was all woman—a very confident, competent woman. “You know, Bill Craig was right,” he said, catching her gaze.
“Major Craig? The officer who gave me my flight tests to enter TPS?”
“Yes.”
A mischievous glint came to her eyes. “And what did he have to say?”
“That you had the best pair of hands he’d ever seen. I agree with him. You’re smooth. You fly by the seat of your pants.”
Chris blushed fiercely, avoiding his admiring glance. “I’ll bet you say that to all your women pilots,” she teased, trying to make light of his compliment.
Dan reached over, pulling her to a halt. “No, you don’t.” His hands settled on her shoulders. “I’m not letting you get away with that.”
Chris looked up into his handsome features, her lips parted in response to Dan’s unexpected action. A pulse leaped crazily at the base of her slender throat as she felt his gaze linger upon each delicate feature of her face. She swallowed. “What are you talking about?”
A wry smile curved his sensual mouth. “My Raven doesn’t know how to take a genuine compliment gracefully and say thank you.” He drank deeply of her widened violet eyes. “I meant what I said. I wasn’t idly throwing you a compliment.”
He was so close...so dizzyingly masculine. Chris shut her eyes momentarily, trying to hang on to her sense of reality...of logic. This shouldn’t be happening, her mind screamed. It was only ten months ago! Ten months! I hurt too much... I can’t go through this again! But her heart spoke another, more pounding message throughout her tense body. “Please...” she begged, trying to pull out of his grip. Another part of her, the woman drawn to him, wanted his touch, his closeness.
“Don’t fight me,” Dan whispered gently. He placed his hand beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’ve got a special touch with an aircraft, Raven. You can be proud of your skills. Now,” he said, his voice becoming more authoritative, “will you believe me when I say you have good hands?”
She nodded convulsively, drawn to his mouth—a firm, well-shaped mouth that smiled often, then drew into a grimace of wry amusement or thinned when he was upset. She felt Dan’s fingers follow the curve of her jaw, sending heated prickles of pleasure across her skin. His touch aroused her senses, stirred to life coals of yearning she had thought were dead. Her pulse was pounding wildly in her throat, her breathing became shallow as he cupped her face, drawing her inexorably closer...closer.
“Chris...” Dan reverently whispered her name, his breath moist against her face. Automatically she closed her eyes, lifting her chin, anticipating...waiting. Then his mouth brushed her lips tentatively, with great tenderness. It shattered her fragile composure. His tongue traced the outline of her, tasting, probing, feeling.... Beneath his gentle advance, her lips parted, allowing him entrance. A small moan rose in her throat as his mouth pressed more urgently against her own, and she felt as if embers of desire were sparking brightness within her reawakened body. Instinctively she rested against him, enjoying his maleness, wanting to maintain the contact. Her feelings for him warred with the logic in her head. Part of her knew this was right and good. And yet, her mind screamed out in warning.... She felt Dan’s arms go around her, drawing her near, fitting her perfectly against his body.
Gradually Dan drew away from her well-kissed lips. Lips that were glistening, parted and full with the invitation to be kissed once again. He groaned inwardly, forcing himself to stop before he lost total control. She trembled perceptibly within his arms, and he was wildly aware of her yielding female softness. He managed a partial smile, pulling several strands of hair away from her cheek, cradling her face within his palm.
Chris inhaled shakily, forcing herself away from Dan. “You—can’t...shouldn’t,” she said weakly, her feeling of euphoria waning. Her eyes mirrored her confusion as she looked up at him. “Is this what you were after?” Chris demanded, taking another step away from him, her voice riddled with hurt. “How many of the jocks did you bet you’d kiss me after the first flight?”
Dan looked at her through narrowed eyes. “What are you talking about, Chris? What bets?”
She shakily touched her lips that throbbed from the virile stamp of his mouth. She was so much jelly, her knees feeling wobbly, her heart pounding. Chris tried to gather her sharded thoughts.
Dan advanced upon her, capturing her arm before she could flee into the darkness. “Hold on just a minute, Chris. This isn’t finished.” He pulled her around. “Now what’s all this paranoia about me betting the guys?”
She drew herself up, chin high, eyes flaring with hurt and anger. Her heart wanted to believe in the honesty of his actions. But her suspicious mind won out. “You know what I’m talking about! Men at the Academy and at the squadron I flew with tried to pull the same trick! They’d bet to see who could get to me first. I fell for it once. Just once!” Her eyes glittered with tears. “You’re no different. I thought you were, but I was wrong.”
His lips thinned, and he took a better grip on her wrist. “Now listen to me,” he grated softly, his face inches from hers. “I didn’t plan to kiss you just then. Hell, it was the farthest thing from my mind.” That was a lie. “But when you stood there looking so damn vulnerable and happy, something happened inside me.” That was the truth. His voice became more coaxing. “Chris, you’re a beautiful woman with heart and incredible sensitivity. You do something to me.”
She avoided his burning gaze, feeling suddenly humiliated at having thought the worst about Dan’s unpremeditated actions. “Then why did you take me on the F-4 tonight?” she hurled back.
“Because the commandant gave me permission to start training you early so you wouldn’t find yourself behind. That’s why.”
Slowly she looked up. Was he telling the truth? Chris searched his eyes to try and find trickery lodged in their depths. She found none. Grimacing, she muttered, “I overreacted. You can let me go now. I’m not going to run away like some lost child.”
Dan eased his grip, sliding his hand up her arm, his fingers caressing her shoulder. “Raven, you aren’t lost anymore. You don’t have to go through this school alone. I’ll be there. I’ve gotten permission to take you up on evening flights during the week and on weekends.” His voice grew more urgent. “No one wants to see you pass this course more than I do. You deserve the chance. And I’m going to make sure you get a fair shot at it. I’m sorry I hadn’t told you this earlier.” A self-deprecating smile curved his mouth, tearing at her heart. “Maybe then you would have realized I kissed you because you were so damn enticing.”
Her eyes glistened with tears as she heard—no, felt—his belief in her. He had volunteered his free time to help her learn to fly the combat aircraft. Dan didn’t have to do that. Her lips parted, trembling. “I’m sorry,” she offered, “you have every right to—”
“Ssh,” he commanded, returning to a more military stance. “If anything, I ought to chew you out for being so damned paranoid. Come on, we’ll both freeze to death if we don’t get inside soon.”
The building was empty with a few lights illuminating the quiet hallways. Dan guided her to his small office. He threw his flight cap on the desk, motioning toward a chair that was stacked with manuals.
“Have a seat—if you can find one. I’m going next door to fix us a pot of coffee. We need something to warm up.”
She took off her flight cap and jacket, placing the manuals on the tile floor. Looking around the cramped cubicle of an office, Chris saw many books on aerodynamics, calculus and higher math surrounding her on shelves that sagged beneath their weight. Impressive-looking certificates adorned one wall, attesting to Dan’s academic expertise. On another wall were various color photos of him in an F-4 or with his squadron mates in what could only be Vietnam. There was a huge mound of paperwork that demanded his attention in the middle of his desk. Although it was far too small, the office was neat and that said something for the way Dan McCord operated his life on a daily basis.
Unconsciously Chris touched her lips where he had kissed her earlier. When had she ever melted into a man’s arms like that? Never, a small voice whispered in her head. One kiss. One gentle kiss had opened the depths of her still-healing heart. And what about the explosions that had rocked her body? Chris took an unsteady breath, trying to logically assess those intangibles. Was Dan sincere when he meant that he would see to it she would not get behind the other students?
She chastised herself for doubting him. Dan had already proven that by requesting permission to take on extra instructing time to help her. Chris looked up when he returned. He handed her a cup.
“You take cream and sugar, right?” Dan asked, settling himself behind the desk.
“How did you know?” she asked, a smile coming to her lips.
“The O’Club the other day. I remember you put in one cream and two sugars.” He gave her a devilish look. “Really, Raven, you’re sweet enough that you don’t need the extra sugar.”
Chris laughed freely. “Honey would melt on your tongue, too! You and Dave Haney. I don’t know which of you is worse.” Haney was a navy pilot student who had said kind words to her on that first day of class.
Dan grinned affably, sipping the steaming coffee. “Just as long as he doesn’t have you in his gun sights, he’s safe.”
She sobered. “Dan, we have to talk.”
“I told you—anytime, any place.”
“No, I mean seriously.”
“I’m always serious where you’re concerned, Raven.”
“Then quit grinning like the cat that just ate the mouse!”
Contrite, Dan suppressed a laugh. “Okay, what is it?”
She fingered the mug, staring down at the contents. “This isn’t right, you know.”
“What isn’t?”
“Us. You and me.”
“Why not? You’re a woman and I’m a man.’’
Chris met his smiling eyes, responding to him easily despite the serious subject she wanted to discuss. “Correction—you are a lecher of the first order.”
“Or I’ll die trying.”
“Dying isn’t funny.”
He shrugged. “We’re all going to die someday, Raven. It’s just a question of when and how. Is that what you wanted to discuss so seriously?”
Chris shivered at the mention of death and dying. It brought back sharp, anguished memories. Oh, God, would she ever be able to sleep a night without reliving the events of that horrible day?
“Raven? Hey, where did you fly off to?” Dan kidded, watching her eyes suddenly grow misty and faraway.
“What? Oh—” She paused to gather her thoughts. “No... I wanted to discuss us. I’m a student here and you’re an instructor. If any of the other students find out what has happened, there could be jealousy. I don’t want anyone to think I didn’t earn my way through this school or received preferential treatment.”‘
He started to interrupt, but she held up her hand.
“No, it’s true, Dan,” she continued earnestly. “Some of the jocks will accuse me of that, regardless. But I don’t want the reputation of other women who might follow in my footsteps tarnished because of my...indiscretion.”
He pursed his lips. “You have a relevant point,” he conceded. “But what we do on our off-hours is no one’s business but our own.”
Her nostrils flared. “Come on! You know that in a tight little community such as ours, talk gets around. And eventually, it will land right here at TPS. I just can’t jeopardize my chances of becoming a test pilot. What would Colonel Martin think of this if he knew?” she challenged.
Dan leaned back in the chair, enjoying the play of emotions across her features. “Tell me to be discreet. Which I will be.”
“You haven’t heard a word I said!”
“Calm down. I’m aware of your feelings and your concern for your reputation. And I don’t intend to embarrass you publicly here with the male students.”
She gave him an accusing look. “You’ve got this all planned, haven’t you?”
“I’m a test pilot by nature, Chris. I preplan as much as I can and then carry it through.” A grin edged his mouth. “Come on, are you going to sit there and tell me you didn’t enjoy that kiss?”
She blushed beautifully, at a loss for words, for once. “You just keep your distance,” she warned throatily, her violet eyes golden with fire.
His grin widened. “Is that threat for my benefit or yours?”
“You’re impossible, McCord! I’ve never run into a jock like you in my whole life! Where did they find you?”
He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of the coffee, his eyes filled with laughter. “I’m one of a kind, Raven. Your kind. And don’t forget it. Because if you try to, I’ll be right there to remind you.”
She stood, infuriated and frustrated with him. “Thanks for the coffee and the flight, Major. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go study. At least my books won’t talk back to me!”
“Hey,” he called, sitting back up, reaching for a manual. “Before you storm out of here, take this and read it.”
Chris turned, giving him a black glare. “What is it?”
“The F-4 manual. You might as well eat, drink and sleep this baby until you can recite it forward and backward. I’m going to test you on it next week. So be ready.”
She stared at the three-inch-thick manual and then at him. Jerking it from his hand, she muttered, “With you, I’m ready for anything!”
4
“I DON’T CARE if the Joint Chiefs of Staff blessed this affair,” Captain Richard Brodie growled, his feet propped up on a desk. “There’s no way a broad can be a test pilot.” He looked up at his two companions who loitered nearby at their respective desks. It was 1245 and most of their fellow students were filtering in for their afternoon classes, which would start promptly at 1300.
“I dunno, Brodie, it’s been almost three weeks and that ‘broad’ as you call her, isn’t looking too bad,” Captain Greg Rondo said, a grin on his wide, handsome features. “Take a look at how good Mallory’s doing in the F-4. She ain’t no slouch at the stick, buddy.”
Rondo was quick to recognize from the outset of his assignment to TPS that every student possessed a marked degree of overachieving drive and desire. He was no exception. He thrived on competition—if not with himself, then pitting his skills against another pilot or taming a shrewish jet aircraft. Yes, they were all winners bent on being the best, setting high personal standards and demands for themselves.
Brodie snorted, turning the paper coffee cup around on his desk. “Screw her.” He lifted his head, glaring up at Rondo. “She’s an icy bitch if I ever saw one.”
Rondo sat down next to him. “She’s got hands, though,” he pointed out, delighting in poking holes in Brodie’s opinionated stance. “Take a look at her test scores in Double Ugly. The gal ain’t flying extra hours for nothing. And from what I’ve seen, she handles the jet real well.”
“You’re only saying that because you want to get close to her,” Brodie growled.
Rondo smiled. “I think she’s kind’a interesting, myself. Good hands, good in the classroom. I’d like to fly with her.” A glint came to his light blue eyes. “I’ll bet that girl could do an inside loop with Ugly and come out smiling.”
Brodie shook his head. “Nobody puts an F-4 into an inside loop and lives to tell about it, buddy. You know that as well as I do.”
Rondo shrugged his thin, wiry shoulders. “Just give me a chance to go up with Mallory, and I’ll show her what an F-4 can really do.”
“You’ll probably scare the hell out of her,” Brodie said, chuckling. “Man, she’s cold.”
“Well, with jocks like you aiming to shoot her down, I don’t blame her for not being none too friendly,” Rondo challenged.
Brodie returned to dutifully turning the cup around in long slender fingers. Mallory was an enigma. She was the epitome of a grade-A student: attentive, serious and worked her rear off on any project assigned to her. A thread of jealousy ate at him. For two weeks he had suffered the ribbing of the other pilots because Mallory had turned him down for a date. There had to be a way to get to her, he finally decided. But what was the key? He had watched in silence as Julio Mendez, the engineering officer from Brazil, had made peace with Mallory. She treated Mendez with deference and politeness, and the Brazilian officer flew as often as he could with Mallory. They were making an impressive team in the standings, gradewise.
He scanned the half-filled classroom of men in green flight suits. Everyone had finished their morning flights by now and was ready to tackle the arduous afternoon of mathematics, theory and aerodynamics. What made Mallory tick? He pursed his thin lips, his brows dipping downward. What got to her? The only time she ever changed was when Captain Karen Barber came around. They were obviously friends, and that was when Mallory seemed most at ease. Somebody had to get to her and force her to screw up. A woman couldn’t stand the pressure.
He made a mental note to contact a friend of his from Reese Air Force Base, where Mallory had been an instructor pilot. Maybe he could dig up some juicy gossip to spread around. Brodie was angry because eighty percent of the class accepted the woman as a bona-fide student. He fumed inwardly. How could a test pilot evaluate equipment for the military if she hadn’t flown in combat?
Everyone was meandering around, holding their perennial cups of coffee, textbooks placed dutifully in front of their desks, talking about the morning’s flights. Brodie saw Karen Barber bounce through the classroom door. Her hair was in ruffled disarray, her eyes sparkling and a smile on her lips. Wasn’t there always a quick smile for everyone from Barber? Often she would drop in to visit with Chris before class started and then disappear down the hall to her office.
Brodie roused himself, watching her like a cat ready to pounce on his next quarry. He checked to make sure Major Mark Hoffman, her boyfriend and also an instructor at TPS, was nowhere in sight. It wasn’t a secret that Karen and Mark were involved with each other, for they were often seen at the O’Club together after class. Brodie didn’t want to tangle with Hoffman because he might have to fly with him at some point. Getting Hoffman angry might also mean the naval officer would deliberately foul up a test flight that they had to pull together, making Brodie look bad. And he didn’t want any bad marks.
“Hey, Barber,” he called. His voice carried across the room, so that everyone automatically looked up from their conversations. “I’m surprised the Air Force lets any women work here at TPS. Everybody knows this is a man’s world over here.”
Karen looked up, stunned by his accusation. Brodie’s tone was both irritating and challenging. Her eyes widened. She swallowed, a myriad of answers forming in the back of her mind. Karen didn’t want trouble. But she couldn’t afford to allow the brash officer to get away with it, either. She was aware of all eyes upon her and felt heat racing upward from her neck into her face.
She forced herself to remain calm. “I’m not even going to respond to such a question, Captain. It doesn’t deserve an answer.”
Some of the men exchanged nervous glances then looked toward Brodie and Karen. Brodie grinned confidently. “How did you broads get assigned over here?”
“Hey, ease off,” Rondo warned under his breath, glancing around at his fellow classmates. A number of other officers were frowning at Brodie, others seemed shocked and still others waited to see the outcome of the confrontation.
Brodie forced a laugh, slapping Rondo on the back. “Hey! It’s okay! We’re just having a little fun here. Aren’t we, Barber? I mean, if you women want to be one of ‘us’ you have to learn to stand up and take some locker-room humor every once in a while.”