She groaned and tried to pull her hand away. “I’m so sorry. Can we forget I said that?”
“No.” His grip tightened ever so slightly, refusing to let go. “Because you were right about that, too. I was being a coward, and I didn’t even know it.”
She finally looked up at him, and her breath caught at the open adoration on his face.
He gave her a small smile. “You’re going to think this is crazy, but we have a cadet who is Chinese, and he told me this fable about a princess and a tiger. He said reading about me in the damn paper made him think about it.”
“Oh heavens. Not Dick’s article again.”
He laughed. “The very one. Anyway, I wonder if you know it.”
“I do,” she said, an eerie chill ghosting up her spine. “It was one of my favorites growing up. The princess was Guan Yin, the goddess of compassion, who was slated to die, except the Great Celestial Tiger swept down from the heavens to save her. Together they journeyed to hell, where he was supposed to leave her, but the tiger fell in love, so he carried her to the Fragrant Mountain instead, where she lived evermore in peace.”
“Yes, well. One could say that sounds a lot like us.”
“You are a Flying Tiger,” she agreed, her heart in her throat. “And you did drop out of the sky. Though more like a meteorite than a celestial being.”
“True, and true,” he said with a laugh. His gaze turned tender. “So all we need to do is find that Fragrant Mountain, and we’re all set. Because somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you, Genie. And I don’t want to lose you. That’s something I also thought about this weekend . . . a lot.”
“I . . .” Joy, shock, disbelief, and elation all washed over her in a single wave, leaving her light-headed and momentarily speechless. She swallowed hard. “I think I’ve fallen for you, too. But the war . . .”
He exhaled. “Is still going on, I know. And I wasn’t kidding the other night about fighter pilots leading short lives. I’ll do my best to come back to you, but I can’t promise.”
She shushed him with a finger on his lips. “I know. And I appreciate you always telling me the truth. It’s one of the things I love about you.”
Dark promise entered his eyes as he caught her hand. “Then I will never tell you anything but the truth.”
“Then tell me this: Did you like kissing me that night in Calcutta?” Her lips curved at the memory. “It was my first. Did you know that?”
He looked instantly apologetic. “No. If I had, I would’ve taken my time and done a better job.”
“If you want to try again, I wouldn’t object.”
One dark eyebrow slid up. “Is that so?”
Her smile deepened as she leaned forward, silently daring him to kiss her again. “Why don’t you try and find out?”
The blast of a horn had them both jumping. Across the station, another train was steaming up to the platform.
“Shoot,” Ted said, glancing over at it. “I’ve got to go.”
Genie’s pulse accelerated with alarm. She was not going to miss her chance again. The second he turned back, she seized his face between her hands and kissed him. She felt his surprise, and then his arms enfolded her, clutching her tightly to him as if he would never let her go. In the space of one heartbeat to the next, he turned her rather chaste kiss into something far, far different.
All thought fled as the world receded and left just Ted, his strength, his heat, his courage, his innate goodness. Her heart sang.
The squeal of brakes had her pulling back, breaking the kiss. For a moment she could only stare at him in amazement. That hadn’t been a kiss like the ones Dick had given her, of a man overpowering a woman, but a kiss between equals. One that gave as much as it took, and she was utterly and completely hooked.
“Can I call you later?” he said, his gaze touching her face everywhere as if memorizing every detail.
“Yes.” She forced herself to step back and was amazed she could. Her legs trembled like reeds in a wind. “But I might be out flying.”
“Sounds good.” He started backing away, duty calling. “You still going to apply for that ferry training school?”
“I am.”
“Good. You’ll do great.” He gave her a grin and quick two-finger salute, the same one he had in Calcutta, before turning around. As he jogged away, she stared after him. She wondered if he even noticed all the women admiring him as he passed. She doubted it, even though he certainly was every girl’s dream with his dark, exotic looks and aviator jacket. And he was hers, if she wanted him.
And she did.
She smiled to herself as she walked back through the station. There were still plenty of challenges to face, the most pressing one being to find another job to pay for hours. She didn’t care. Life stretched out in front of her like an open runway.
And this time, no matter where the future took her, she was ready to fly.
Acknowledgments
This story would never have been born without the encouragement of my wonderful agent, Laura Bradford, who suggested I try writing something a little different. As usual, it was a fantastic idea. Also thank you to my wonderful editors at Lake Union, Chris and Tiffany, for believing in this story and in me.
I would also like to sincerely thank Tami Richey, beta reader extraordinaire. Without your friendship and steadfast patience, I would have given up on writing long ago. You are the absolute best, and I am forever in your debt.
Also, a huge shout-out to my critique partners: Lizbeth Selvig, Laramie Sasseville, and Nancy Holland, all talented writers in their own right. My life and writing are richer for your involvement, and I am beyond happy you allowed me into your clique.
Thank you as well to Sarah Chien, Betty Chien, and Margaret Hung Fong for their cultural feedback on the scenes set in China. Your willingness to read unedited prose was exceedingly brave of you, and greatly appreciated.
Finally, I want to thank my wonderful husband for believing in me even when I didn’t. Without you, this book would never have been completed. You are simply the best.
About the Author
Photo © 2014 Shelley Anderson Photography
Always fascinated by history and adventure, Ellen Lindseth received her BA in classics from the University of Colorado, Boulder, with an eye on becoming an archaeologist. When that didn’t pan out, she decided to write stories of strong, spirited women eager to embark on adventures of their own.
She studied at Minneapolis’s Loft Literary Center and is a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association and Romance Writers of America. Two of her WWII historical romances were finalists in the prestigious RWA Golden Heart contest, and one of her short stories was chosen for publication in Midwest Fiction Writers’ popular anthology.
When not writing about the resourceful women of the 1940s, Ellen, a licensed pilot, flies with her husband (also a pilot), exploring the world and looking for new ideas.
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