Trouble In Tourmaline

Chapter Three

A t his apartment, David pointed out the cat to Amy and started for his bedroom to grab some clean clothes before he showered.

“Wait,” Amy called after him. “Hobo and I need to be introduced by you.”

He paused. “Why? She’s a cat.”

“She’s your cat. And a very pretty tortoiseshell. Your introduction will let her know I’m okay.”

He rolled his eyes but walked back and knelt down beside Amy, who was holding out her fingers for Hobo to sniff.

“Hobo,” he said, “meet Amy. She’s a friend.” He rose and bolted for the bedroom before Amy could come up with another wacky idea.

He was back in ten minutes, showered and wearing clean jeans and T-shirt.

Amy was sitting on the floor petting the cat. “Where’s her box?” she asked.

“Litter box?”

“No, I mean her birthing box. For her to have the kittens in.”

“Gert didn’t tell me she needed that.”

“Hobo has to get used to the box ahead of time so she won’t go off and have the kittens in the corner of a closet or a dresser drawer left open. Or even on your bed. I don’t think you’d care for that since birthing is rather messy. You need to be prepared.”

“I wasn’t planning on becoming the father of kittens, you know.”

“Obviously. Do you happen to have a fair-size cardboard box somewhere?”

He found one, as well as an old blanket for Amy to put in the bottom of the box and several old towels to cover it. She placed the box in an out-of-the-way corner of the living room. “Now, put Hobo in the box,” she said. “She’ll sniff all around in it and probably jump out, but she’ll know it’s there. You can keep putting her in it when you’re home so she gets the idea it’s hers.”

“See what I got myself into for taking you in,” he told the cat as he lifted her gently and set her down inside the box. “Special cat food bowls that won’t tip over, water bowls that fill when you need a drink, kitty litter for the sandbox and now this.”

“She doesn’t seem to have any fleas,” Amy said.

“Gert told me she wouldn’t. Fleas don’t like high desert—the elevation here is almost five thousand feet.”

Hobo leaped out of the box, pausing to smell the outside of the cardboard, then she brushed against David’s leg before going over to sniff at Amy’s shoe. Amy bent and stroked her behind the ears, murmuring, “I’ll be back to see you, pretty girl.”

Which meant she planned to return to his apartment in the near future. Before he started picturing her in his bed, he reminded himself the key word was friends, not lovers. If he kept his hands off her, and he definitely meant to, maybe the chemistry he could still feel between them would lose its potency.

As Amy straightened, Hobo let out what could only be described as a mournful yowl. He stared at the cat. Was something wrong with her?

“Uh-oh.” Amy plopped down beside Hobo again, this time gently feeling the cat’s stomach. “I think you got that box ready in the nick of time. She’s in labor. You’d better put her in it.”

“You mean now?” David said, his blue eyes widening.

“Yes, right now.”

He very gingerly lifted Hobo and carried her to the box. She sniffed it again and seemed to settle down to stay. He started to walk away, but the cat climbed out and followed him, yowling.

“She’s one of those,” Amy told him.

“Those what?”

“If you don’t sit by the box while she has at least the first kitten, she’ll keep following you and have the kittens wherever you are. Some cats are like that. Others demand total privacy.”

“You mean I have to play vet midwife? I studied law, not medicine.”

“She’ll do all the work, but she’s bonded with you and she needs the security of you being nearby.”

David sighed, put Hobo back in the box and eased down on the floor next to it. “You’re the cat expert,” he told Amy. “How about joining me here?”

He knew Amy had chosen the corner so the cat could feel partly hidden, not for space, and this made for a very cozy situation when Amy sat next to him—she was practically in his lap. Such near intimacy made it difficult for him to keep the word friend in mind. She smelled faintly of some light floral scent he couldn’t identify despite his recent acquaintance with nursery plants. Whatever it was, he liked it.

Keep your mind on the cat, Amy warned herself as her knee brushed against David’s thigh. This chemistry thing is merely a matter of endorphins, nothing you can’t ignore. But ignoring the feeling was darn hard when she was crowded against him.

Hobo began to growl, focusing her attention. The cat’s ears went back as she crouched in the box, and suddenly a kitten’s head pushed its way free of her. The rest of the kitten followed quickly and Hobo turned to the tiny thing and began licking it clean.

“Looks like a drowned mouse,” David commented.

The next kitten was tinier than the first and Hobo nudged it away from her without trying to clean it, returning her attention to the firstborn.

“You need to put that reject under her nose so she’ll have to take care of it,” Amy said.

“I need to?”

“She trusts you. I’m still a stranger.”

By the time David cautiously moved the rejected kitten closer, a third one was being born. Again Hobo pushed the second born aside to tend to the new one.

“Why won’t she take care of it?” he asked.

“The poor little thing is the runt of the litter. Cats seem to sense that the smallest one has the least chance of survival, so they tend to the others first. The trouble is, the runt can die during this time.”

“You mean the kitten may be defective?”

“It’s a possibility.”

David’s expression changed from puzzled to determined as, muttering about handicaps, he persisted in setting the tiniest kitten in front of Hobo until she finally gave up and started washing the runt. By the time the fourth and last was born, the runt had revived enough to crawl to a nipple and join the other two.

“No matter if she is a runt,” David said. “She deserves a chance.”

Because he’d identified the kitten as female without any evidence, Amy decided his words might well pertain to more than the kitten, but she hesitated to pry. To help David, as she intended to do, she needed to gain his confidence before asking any personal questions.

“You gave her one,” she told him.

“And she ran with it. A fighter. She’ll do okay.”

They both started to get up at the same time and collided in the narrow space. She grabbed him for balance and his arms went around her. Amy could feel the sizzle of heat as he held her close for a longer moment than either needed to regain their balance. As he released her, she gazed into his eyes and noticed how dilated his pupils were—a sure sign that touching her affected him. Hers probably were, too, since she could hardly deny she didn’t want him to let her go.

“Uh,” she said, backing away, “now you need to ease those messy towels out from under her and let her lie with the kittens on the clean blanket underneath. If you don’t, she may try to move the kittens to another spot. It’s an instinct to get rid of the birth odors so the kittens will be safe from predators.”

He grunted but did as she said. Once he’d disposed of the towels and washed his hands, he said, “Care to celebrate the birth of Hobo’s four kittens by having dinner with me?”

“I think you should stay with her for a while.”

“They deliver pizza.”

With the memory of him holding her still potent, she started to refuse. On second thought, though, eating pizza with him would actually be a casually friendly thing to do. “Pepperoni,” she said.

“With sausage.”

Lots of cholesterol, but she could afford that once in a while.

“Sounds good.”

While they waited for the delivery, Amy decided to pursue her plan of covert therapy under the cover of comradeship. “What’s there to do around here when you’re not working?” she asked.

David took a while to answer. “You ever been up in a sailplane?” he asked finally.

“I don’t even know what one is.”

“You’ve heard of gliders.” At her nod, he continued. “A sailplane is a sophisticated glider, designed aerodynamically to stay in the air as long as the pilot can find a thermal.”

“You lost me somewhere along the way.”

“You’ve seen hawks soaring up and up without moving their wings. That’s because they’re in a column of rising air—a thermal. Actually, it’d be easier to show you this weekend.”

“You mean you have a sailplane?”

“Some play golf, I sailplane. Been doing it ever since I got my pilot’s license ten years ago.”

Somewhat reassured by the fact he’d been at it for ten years and so must be experienced, Amy still had a problem. “I’m not all that crazy about flying,” she admitted.

“In commercial jets, you mean?”

Again she nodded.

“There’s no comparison.”

Maybe not, but was she prepared to do something she was sure would scare her just to further her acquaintance with David so she could help him with his denial problem?

He grinned at her. “Scared?”

She bristled. As a kid, the worst insult her older brother could throw at her was that she was a scaredycat. Just to prove to him she wasn’t, she’d risked things in the past she shuddered to think of. Still, she wasn’t a child anymore, so she shouldn’t be swayed by David asking if she was scared. She might be, but she had no intention of telling him. Or backing down.

Raising her chin, she said, “Sounds like fun.”

Later, as they ate the pizza, he told her more about sailplanes than she cared to know. Apparently lots of people flew them here in Nevada where thermals were frequent.

“It’s so quiet up there, so beautiful,” he said. “You feel like a hawk yourself, endlessly soaring.”

“You’ve sold me,” she said, realizing sailplaning was something he really loved to do. To join him might make her a trusted buddy, and she did need his trust if she was going to help him. Taking a deep breath, she added, “I’ll give it a try.”

Immediately after saying it, she rose from her chair at the kitchen table. “Time to leave.” Yes, before she got talked into something else precarious. “I did enjoy the pizza, sausage and all.”

He got up, too. “Thanks for the help with the kittens.”

Which reminded her of how he’d assumed the runt was female. Why? Could be it really wasn’t important, but she’d find out sooner or later. “Glad to be of service.”

“I’ll pick you up at Gert’s Saturday morning around noon. Thermals usually form in the afternoon.”

“You said you had a pilot’s license. Do you have to be a pilot to fly sailplanes?”

“Yep. Have to learn about gliders, too.”

“So I’m safe with you, I guess.”

He was standing close to her. Too close. She ordered her feet to move away from him, but the order got garbled by what she saw in those deep blue eyes, and she remained motionless. He was looking at her like—like…

Without touching her otherwise, he bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. Every cell in her body yearned for him.

Safe with him? The words echoed in her head as she leaned into the kiss wanting more, needing more, even though she tried not to. Impossible not to relish the zing that ran bone-deep. Good grief, all this without even being in his arms. With a tremendous effort of will, she broke contact and literally fled from the apartment.

So much for being safe, she told herself as she climbed into her SUV. Clenching her teeth, she vowed to make sure that didn’t happen again. Friends was the operative word—not lovers.

David found himself staring bemusedly at the door she’d closed behind her and forced himself into action. Clean up the kitchen. Take out the trash. Stop thinking about how soft and warm her lips were and how they’d yielded to his. Don’t remember her taste or how she smells of flowers.

He shouldn’t have kissed her. Been too long without a woman, Severin, he told himself. And this one definitely isn’t a good choice for a quick affair. Very bad choice—your aunt’s associate. Which was true, no doubt about it, but he didn’t think it’d stop him from kissing her again, if the chance came.

On the other hand, she could be at loose ends, wanting no more than he wanted. Nothing even vaguely permanent. Just a test of how potent the chemistry was.

As he went into the living room to check on the kittens, he nodded. Start as friends, keep cool and see where it goes. Kneeling by the box, he stared down at Hobo and her brood of four, all fuzzy now as they nursed. The tiny one was completely black, the other three black and white. As he reached down and stroked the black one’s head with a gentle finger, Hobo mewed.

“Don’t worry, I’d never hurt her,” he murmured. How could he, when the sight of that tiny body reminded him so much of Sarah, one and a half months premature and so small she’d looked like a doll, not a baby.

That had been five—no, six—years ago. He shared custody with Iris, his ex, but hadn’t asked to have Sarah visit him since he’d left New Mexico last year. David sighed and got to his feet. Right now she was better off with her mother than him.

The next day, David pulled into Tourmaline’s small airfield with Amy, parking near where his sailplane was tied down. She got out of his pickup and walked around the aircraft. “It’s bigger than I thought it’d be,” she told him.

“That good or bad news?”

She frowned. “Good, I guess.”

He’d sensed her increasing nervousness as they’d driven to the field. “Aunt Gert’s been up with me several times,” he said in an effort to make her relax. “Grandfather, too.”

“Your grandfather?”

“No, not mine.”

“Well, he can’t be your aunt’s. She told me herself she’s seventy.”

“He’s a friend of ours who goes by that name.”

She stared at him. “You mean everyone calls him Grandfather?”

“He’s a Paiute medicine man. Grandfather is a name of respect.” David turned to greet a middle-aged man walking toward them. “Amy, this is Grant,” he said. “Our tow pilot. Grant, my friend Amy.”

Grant nodded to her. “Going up with this yahoo, are you?”

“I said I would.”

“Can’t renege on a promise, that it?” Grant chuckled. “Don’t worry, I ain’t crashed yet and neither’s he.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that ‘yet,’” Amy told him.

“Safe as in your mother’s arms. Notice I didn’t say his arms.” Grant nodded toward David, who was busy untying the sailplane. “I can recommend his flying, but the other’s up in the air.” He chuckled again before turning and walking toward a small red-and-white plane parked a ways in front of the sailplane.

“He’s going to attach the towline.” David lifted the top canopy of his plane and gestured toward the rear seat. “After you.”

Amy climbed in and closed the seat belt around her. When he was satisfied the towline was secure, David climbed into the front cockpit and fastened down the canopy.

“It’s an adventure,” Amy muttered under her breath, resisting the impulse to close her eyes as both planes began moving. When’s the last time you had anything approaching an adventure? she asked herself. She’d been living, as Grant put it, safe as in her mother’s arms, for so long she couldn’t even remember feeling adventurous.

Which reminded her David’s arms would hardly be safe. Another adventure she wasn’t ready for?

Before she realized what was happening, they were airborne. Though she could hear the drone of the tow plane’s motor drifting back to her, the noise level in the sailplane was nil. Nothing like taking off in one of the big commercial jets.

“I’ll drop the tow at about three thousand feet.” She could hear David clearly.

“How high will we go then?” she managed to ask after swallowing twice.

“As high as the thermal we find will take us. No higher than ten thousand feet, though, or we’d need oxygen.”

“How do you know where the thermals are?”

“Search and find. Watch the birds. Get lucky.”

As soon as David unhooked the towline, Grant’s plane turned away from them and disappeared from her view. Now there was no sound at all as they drifted. She decided not to ask how they were going to get back down with no motor. Glide, she supposed, feeling her fingers begin to hurt from clenching her hands together so tightly.

“Okay back there?” David asked.

“Fine.” She hoped she sounded more convinced than she felt. It wasn’t so much that she questioned his expertise. For some reason she trusted him, knowing he wouldn’t have asked her to join him unless he was sure it was safe. But the sailplane itself was new to her—how strange to be up in the air with no motor.

As if reading her thought, David said, “Think of the plane as if it was a sailboat. The boat in the water is driven by the wind in the sails, and up here our plane is driven by air currents under the wings.”

Amy examined the idea and began to relax. “I’ve done a lot of sailing in Lake Huron and around Mackinac Island,” she told him.

“Maybe you’ll have a chance to show me sometime. I’ve sailed, but I’m more a flier than a sailor.”

That just might be possible, since her brother’s father-in-law had a sailboat docked at his Lake Tahoe condo in Incline Village and Tahoe wasn’t all that far from Tourmaline. That is, if she and David managed to stay friends without going off the deep end—and she didn’t mean the pier. That kiss last night…

“Thermal coming up,” David said. “Here we go.”

She braced herself, but nothing really happened except the sailplane began to climb, rising in wide circles, reminding her of how the red-tailed hawks soared above her brother’s horse ranch in Carson Valley. She could see the peaks of the Sierras, some still snow-capped, in the distance. The lack of any noise did remind her of a sailboat, except on a boat things creaked. The plane itself didn’t make a sound.

Peaceful, and the sky, oh, so beautiful, hardly a cloud in sight. This must be how it feels to be a bird, she thought, admitting that she was actually enjoying herself.

Up and up they soared, she couldn’t believe how effortlessly. When, some time later, she realized the plane was descending, she sighed. “Does this mean we have to land?”

“The thermal’s shifting away from the field. It’s a long walk back if I don’t keep the plane fairly close to the field, so we can glide down pretty much where we went up.”

So she was right—they’d glide down. The thought didn’t bother her now. David knew what to do, just as she knew how to tack a sailboat into port.

After they’d glided back to earth, tied the plane down and were once again in the pickup headed for Tourmaline, Amy said, “Thanks for the experience—it was fun. Awesome, even. I might even go up again if you ask me.”

David glanced over at her and grinned. “Anytime.” She’d been a good sport. His ex-wife had refused to go up with him before they were married, and didn’t change her mind after she was his wife. Maybe that should have told him something. He understood now that Iris’s idea of flying involved riding in privately owned jets. Like Murdock’s.

“You ever been married?” he asked.

She blinked, obviously somewhat surprised at the abrupt change in subject. “No. If you want a reason, it’s because I like being in charge of my life myself.”

“As good a reason as any.”

She opened her mouth as though to speak, glanced at him and closed it.

He shrugged. “I brought it up, so go ahead and ask me why I’m divorced.”

“Gert sort of suggested you may have married the wrong woman.”

He half smiled. “She was blunter than that when she met Iris before the wedding. ‘Run and don’t look back’ was her advice to me.”

“You know, that’s almost exactly what I told my brother before he married his first wife. It was a disaster.”

“Which may be why you and Gert are both shrinks.”

“Your aunt never did marry, did she?”

“My mother told my sister and me Gert was engaged to an Air Force pilot in World War II who got shot down over Germany.”

Amy sighed. “And she never got over him. How romantic.”

He shot her a skeptical look. “I’m not saying my aunt never looked at another man. She just never married one.”

“Makes her human, but it’s still romantic. So you have a sister?”

“Diane. She’s a teacher in Hawaii. Unmarried.”

“Smart gal,” Amy quipped.

“Where does your brother live?”

“Russ? He has a horse ranch near here, in Carson Valley. That’s one of the reasons I answered your aunt’s ad for an associate. I wanted to be closer to him and my nephew and baby niece.”

David frowned. “He didn’t learn the first time, I take it.”

“Not all marriages are bad. Mari’s a great gal. They suit each other like you wouldn’t believe.”

“So you do believe in marriage as an institution.”

She nodded. “For some people. Not for me. I’m happier single.”

“I agree with that philosophy. Totally.”

“Ground rules for friends,” Amy said.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Maybe we ought to set a few others while we’re at it.”

He grinned at her. “Ones we can keep like the first rule or ones we can’t?”

She shook her head at him. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah—fatal attraction.”

“It’s chemistry,” she sputtered. “Hormones. Pheromones.”

“All of the above. But how does that stop me from wanting to pull over and haul you into my arms right now?”

He watched her start to bristle, then deliberately take a deep breath before speaking. “If we’re able to ignore it, the temptation will eventually fade.” Her tone was cool.