Touch The Heavens. Eileen Nauman

Touch The Heavens - Eileen  Nauman


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choked on an expletive. “That’ll be the day!” she retorted, and turning on her heel, walked out of the office.

      * * *

      DAN GLANCED AT his watch. It was almost 2100. Had three hours passed since talking with Chris? Pushing a group of papers away from him that still needed to be corrected, he leaned back, rubbing his face. Captain Brodie would be stopping by at any moment now. Frowning, he pushed a lock of hair off his brow and sat back up in the chair.

      More than anything, he wanted to be with Chris right now. Since that night he had impulsively kissed her on the ramp, he had controlled his desire to push her too fast, too soon. He contented himself by flying with Chris almost every evening and on the weekends. A smile flickered in his eyes. She was slowly responding to him, just like a stubborn fighter plane in a dive. Glancing at the paperwork she had done for this morning’s flight, Dan noticed how neat it looked. There wasn’t an ink smudge anywhere. All the relevant numbers and figures were carefully recorded, making the report look professional in every sense of the word.

      He didn’t want to work anymore and put the pen down. Flying twice a day was beginning to take its toll on him. If the commandant found out, he would cancel the extra sessions immediately. Grimacing, Dan shook his head as if in denial that it would happen. In just three short weeks Chris had proven beyond a doubt that she had the sensitivity to be a damn good test pilot. Would she be as sensitive to lovemaking? He knew the answer to that, feeling his desire for her heightened once again. God, how he wanted all of her.

      Ruefully Dan smiled to himself. You are special Captain Chris Mallory, he told her silently. No man in his right mind would want to just take you to bed and be done with it. There was something incredibly exciting about Chris. Patience, he told himself. Patience and give her a lot of care, and she’ll come around.

      Chris wearily rubbed her face, glancing at her watch. It was almost ten-thirty and she was exhausted from the intensity of her studying. Her textbooks and manuals lay in a semicircle around where she sat on the carpeted floor. Leaning back against the couch, she yawned. The day had been incredibly stressful. A soft knock at the door pulled her from the reverie. Frowning, she wondered if it was Karen. Usually she came over every night for a quick visit.

      Clad in only a pair of well-worn jeans and a loose weave purple sweater, Chris opened the door. Her eyes widened. It was Dan McCord. Her lips parted as she looked up at his lined features. He looked as tired as she felt. Dan offered her a semblance of a smile.

      “I know it’s late—”

      “That’s all right, come in,” Chris invited, trying to quell her hammering heart. Ever since he had kissed her that night on the ramp, Dan had stayed out of her life except in an official capacity. Chris was incredibly happy to see him again.

      Dan took off his blue flight cap and walked into the room. He was carrying a briefcase bulging with reports to be graded. Chris quietly shut the door, meeting his warming gaze. “Like some tea?”

      He folded the cap and stuffed it into the left thigh pocket of his flight suit. “Just getting to see you again is enough,” he answered.

      Chris managed to return a smile. “You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

      “No. Did you want me to?”

      She was glad to see him teasing her again. The past two weeks of flying had been all business with very little personal interchange. But she understood why. Dan was trying to get her qualified in the F-4 as fast as she could assimilate its flying characteristics. She motioned toward the couch. “A tiger never changes its stripes. Sit down before you fall down. I’m going to make us some orange-spice tea and lace it with a bit of brandy.”

      Dan ambled to the couch and gratefully sat. “Sounds great.” He watched as Chris moved across the room to the small kitchen. She looked like a contented married woman. He surprised himself with that analogy. Maybe he was too tired. Or maybe it was the clash he’d had with Brodie an hour earlier. Dan wasn’t sure. He leaned back, closing his eyes, musing. Being with Chris in her comfortable quarters gave him a sense of overwhelming peace. He had longed to see her socially, but the heavy demands placed upon them both had effectively squelched that. He rolled his head to the right, opening his eyes, studying her in the lulling silence.

      There was a lack of tension around Chris as she worked in the kitchen. In her bare feet she looked positively beautiful, with a girlish quality to her. Her black hair flowed freely, brushing her proud shoulders. Normally her beautiful violet eyes were shadowed with weariness. Now they were clear, flecked with gold, which seemed to indicate she was happy. Had coming to see her tonight been responsible for that change? Dan didn’t know. A smile quirked one corner of his mouth as he rose and ambled into the kitchen. He would like to think he was responsible for part of this change.

      “Smells good,” he commented, moving over to where Chris stood. He leaned over her, inhaling the freshly brewed tea.

      Chris felt his shoulder lightly brush against hers for a moment. She smiled, removing the tea bags from the pot. “Let’s go sit in the living room. I need a break, too,” she confided.

      Dan made himself comfortable on the couch. Chris sat on the floor near her textbooks, her arm resting against the sofa. She looked like a graceful cat curled up, her long legs drawn up beneath her body.

      “You think I’m going to attack you if you sit up here with me?” Dan teased.

      “Yes.” Chris smiled and took a sip of the tea.

      “You’re probably right,” he responded, grinning.

      Chris liked his honesty. “I was just kidding. I’m a floor person by nature.” She became more serious. “You look beat.”

      “It’s common the first month of school,” he explained, balancing the mug on his right knee. “You’re holding up well under the circumstances,” he noted with satisfaction.

      “I don’t know, Dan. After that run-in with Brodie today....”

      “You hit him right between the running lights,” he said, trying not to smile.

      Her violet eyes darkened. “He’s an eighteen-year-old kid instead of a mature man in his early thirties!”

      “Brodie never grew up in some ways, Chris.”

      She tilted her head, studying him in the softened light. “You sound as if you’ve known him for a while.”

      “He was in my F-4 squadron a number of years ago.”

      “And did he go around telling people to watch their six?” she asked, anger lowering her voice.

      Dan studied her for a moment. “He said that to you?”

      “Yes, in front of the whole class.”

      “He must have said it in jest.”

      To Dan, that particular phrase carried plenty of weight and feeling behind it. It was reserved for a confrontation that would set up a demarcation line never to be crossed by the other person.

      Chris grimaced. “If we were living in the Middle Ages, it would have been akin to Brodie throwing his gauntlet and challenging me to a duel.”

      After talking at length with Brodie, Dan had been convinced that the pilot was going to continue trying to get to Chris. This extra bit of information confirmed his original impression. Dan held the mug in both hands, looking down at her upturned face. Right now all he wanted to do was take Chris into his arms, to hold and kiss her. His body tightened with desire. How could she look so vulnerable and trusting now, and so professional and unreadable at the school? Would her background as an orphan have forced her to take on this chameleon-like quality? Dan pushed aside his personal feelings for a moment. “Look,” he began heavily, leaning forward, “I’ve dressed Brodie down for his actions, and he’s given his word it won’t happen again.”

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