“I never realized—” she began lamely.
He leaned back, gathering her into his arms so that she rested against his broad shoulder. “That’s because nobody ever told you before, gal.” He gave her a little shake. “That’s what you need, you know. To be told how lovely you are inside and out.”
His heart beat solidly against her own as she lay with him. Sudden pain mingled with her joy. The anguish deluged her happiness like a storm drenching a sunny day. His coarse, light, wool uniform rubbed against her cheek. How could she be in the arms of an air force officer? One of his kind had killed her husband. And what about the article? Her promotion, her very job, depended on it. She had spent several years preparing to move into a management position. Yet she was here with Ty, an enemy to both her personal life and her professional career. What was happening?
“You wear your heart on your sleeve, Erin Quinlan,” he murmured, breaking into her desolate thoughts. “When Linda bulled her way into the conversation and embarrassed you today, you had every right to be angry. But I watched you. I saw you wrestling with surprise and shock.” Ty leaned down and placed a kiss on her hair. “And I saw your incredible sensitivity revealed in every change in your expression. You had put yourself in Linda’s place. You didn’t embarrass her as she did you. Instead, you were gracious and smiling, trying to make her feel at ease so she could gracefully extricate herself from the blunder. That sort of unselfishness is rare, and it makes me want to take you into my arms and protect you from the world.”
His whispered words were a balm to her tender heart. She placed a hand on her breast, aware of the increasing pain within her. He was achingly honest and so sincere. When had she ever met a man like Ty? Never.
Shakily, she withdrew from his arms and sat up, facing him. Her mouth felt well kissed. Ty tilted his head, a questioning look in his eyes. “Talk to me,” he urged huskily, making no further attempt to touch her.
She swallowed against a lump forming in her throat, which felt dry and scratchy with unshed tears. “I don’t know what’s happening, Ty,” she breathed. “Not a day went by when I didn’t think about you.” She smiled wistfully. “Or I’d see contrails up in the sky and wonder if you were flying up there at those high altitudes.” He chuckled. “Probably was. We flew up to Greenland a couple of times. Hey, I see hurt in your eyes. Why?” he coaxed gently.
Tears sprang up, though she tried to stop them. “Uh-oh. Damn, you shouldn’t have said that.” She sniffed, dashing the first tear from her cheek.
Ty took a white handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her. “I’ll never understand why you feel embarrassed to cry. What do you gain by holding it in?”
She choked back a sob, half laughing as she blotted at her eyes. “An upset stomach. Ulcers someday, if I don’t watch out.”
“Crazy, mixed-up woman. What am I going to do with you?” Ty teased huskily.
In a blinding instant Erin realized she had fallen hopelessly in love with Ty Phillips. More tears filled her eyes, and she fought to stem the rising tide. Ty frowned and muttered something, gripping her arms and pulling her back into his embrace.
“Stubborn woman,” he growled. “Now, lie here against me and let those tears fall.”
The dam burst and Erin buried her head beneath his chin, sobbing. When during her adult life had she ever been held and cared for? She had always extended her compassion and understanding to others, but she had rarely received what she had needed in times of anguish. Not until now. Ty gently caressed her shoulders and back, his voice soothing, calming.
“That’s my gal. Let it go. Let it all go. It isn’t worth the price of holding it in.”
Erin had no concept of time passing. She knew only that Ty was subtly rocking her back and forth in his arms, his chin resting against her hair. At length he loosened his embrace and brushed the last tears from her cheeks. He forced her to sit back on the couch and studied her in silence. “Feel better?”
If he had spoken in any tone other than one of understanding, Erin would have felt foolish. Instead, she dipped her head in answer. “Better,” she agreed. Ty rose slowly to his feet. “Tell you what I’m going to do, darlin’. I’m going to make you a hot toddy so you’ll sleep like a rock tonight. The exhaustion in your face scares me. Have you been putting in long hours?”
She nodded, sniffing. “Always,” she muttered. She reached out, touching his hand. “Thanks, Ty…” Her voice trembled with tears. He had such a devastating effect on her. But it was a positive, healing effect.
Ty squeezed her fingers. “First things first. I’ll make you that toddy and then I’ll get going. And don’t give me that look….”
Her lips parted in wonder. “What?”
Groaning, he walked to the liquor cabinet across the room. “When you look so damn vulnerable and in need of protection, I lose my sense of duty, morality and obligation,” he muttered.
She felt heat stealing into her face when he returned with the drink and was unable to meet his eyes. He stood there, a scowl lingering as he watched her take the first tentative sip. She wrinkled her nose and glanced up at him.
“I’m not much of a drinker,” she confessed.
“I know. You like wine, instead. But tonight a little Irish whiskey won’t hurt you a bit.” He looked at his watch and grimaced. “Well, we’ve both turned into pumpkins. It’s after midnight.” He gave her a stern look, one that she imagined came very easily when he was dealing with his subordinates. “Drink all of that and then get into a hot tub. I’ll come by tomorrow morning and pick you up at 8 a.m. for breakfast.”
She nodded mutely, unable to tear her eyes from his handsome face. He looked so strong and capable. “I owe you,” she whispered, meaning it.
Ty pursed his lips. “Believe me, I intend to collect when the time’s right, my Irish banshee. Good night.” He leaned down, placing a kiss on her hair.
Erin watched him cross the foyer silently. The door opened and closed, leaving her alone in the tranquil silence. The whiskey warmed her insides, and she stared blankly into space. Too much had happened too soon. She had no defense against him or her tumultuous emotions.
7
The next morning Erin glanced out a curtained window and gasped with pleasure at the trees. More than once during the night she had been awakened by the roar of B-52s taking off into the darkness. She was used to her quiet apartment, not to the comings and goings of giant military aircraft a half mile from where she slept. But now the sun was rising against a clear sky, promising a beautiful day. The oak, maple and tamarack trees had turned many shades of red, orange and yellow, making the landscape in back of the quarters a veritable palette of fall colors.
Her mood had swung dangerously from one of fear during the night to joy this morning. The memory of Ty kissing her and allowing her to cry on his shoulder sent a mixture of anxiety and longing surging through her. What was happening to her? She was overreacting, not thinking straight at all.
Erin checked herself in the mirror one last time. Today she had to function as the investigative reporter. She put on a suit of rich chocolate-brown that set off the highlights in her hair. A simple but elegant white blouse with feminine ruffles softened the austere lines of the skirt and jacket. The natural ruddy color of her cheeks and red mouth made her eyes look larger and more alluring. Partly to please herself, and partly to please Ty, she allowed her thick hair to fall around her shoulders.
Ty’s face mirrored his appreciation as she stepped outside in response to his knock. “You should have been a model,” he murmured, slipping his hand beneath her elbow and guiding her to the black SUV. The air was warm, and a light breeze playfully lifted Erin’s hair, which she pulled back from her face.
“Have you ever considered modeling yourself?” she asked, smiling.
Ty opened the car door for her and waited as she slid onto the seat. “Once a Buff driver, always a Buff driver, darlin’. But thanks for the compliment. It’s good for my ego.”
As they drove, Ty showed Erin various points of interest. “Over there is C ramp,” he said. “That’s where we keep all the Buffs that are scheduled for training missions.” He pointed over his left shoulder. “And that’s the Alert area.”
Erin craned her neck, trying to get a glimpse of the highly restricted section. She could see little from this distance except for some camouflage-painted tail sections. “Not much to see,” she said, disappointed.
Ty grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ll get a closer look this afternoon. It’s pretty boring for me, but maybe it won’t be for you. I see that place once a month whether I want to or not.” He commented on a building under construction in which they would eventually hold highly technical simulator-training classes to help crews keep their skills sharp when they weren’t flying missions. Erin noticed the large number of security vehicles moving slowly along the paved streets, which were crowded with traffic even at this early hour.
“You don’t realize you’re on a secret installation until you see those guys with M-16 rifles,” she commented.
“The air police are nothing to fool around with on this base,” he agreed. “They all carry M16s, and they mean business. Wait until you see the security checks we have to go through to get to the Alert Facility. Then it will really sink in.”
He took her to a small cafeteria. Erin tried to calm her excitement, part of which came from being with Ty, part from the adventure of simply sharing his world for a few precious days. In line, he scowled and pointed at her tray. “You aren’t eating much.”
“An orange and some toast will fill me up.” She raised an eyebrow. “It looks as though you’re eating for two people, Captain Phillips,” she observed drily.
Smiling, Ty paid for their meals and ushered her over to a comfortable booth where they sat facing each other. Taking off his flight cap, Ty dug hungrily into the food. Erin suppressed a smile. He reminded her of an eager ten-year-old hurrying through his meal so he could go outside and play. Afterward, they lingered over their coffee in comfortable silence.
“Around nine we’ve got to be over at Supply to get a flight suit, helmet and your parachute equipment,” he said. “I should have told you to wear slacks today.”
“Why?”
“Fitting a parachute means adjusting the leg straps. I don’t think we’ll be able to do that, do you?”
She blushed, catching Ty’s teasing look. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” she accused without rancor.
“Sort of…”
“What am I going to do?”
“We’ll wait until tomorrow to pick up the chute. Don’t worry. But be sure and wear slacks or jeans. I’ve gotten permission to take you through a Buff tomorrow morning. We’ll spend a couple of hours rummaging around inside of one. I’ll try to explain what we do in lay terms.”
“I’d like that,” she said sincerely. Ty raised his chin, catching her widened gaze. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “Of course. I want to understand what makes you tick.”
He pursed his mouth. “And that’s important to you?”
His softly spoken words created a more intimate mood between them. “Yes, that’s important to me,” she admitted.
He nodded, slowly turning his coffee mug in his large hands. “What happens, Erin, if you come away from this investigation without the angle your editor wants?” he asked softly.
She frowned. Conflicting emotions assailed her. So Ty had anticipated that possibility, too. She spoke carefully. “Bruce knows I would never forsake my professional ethics to write yellow journalism,” she said slowly. But deep inside she wondered if even she believed what she was saying. She was reminded of Bruce’s accusations—that she was allowing herself to be persuaded by air force propaganda, that she wasn’t considering all the facts objectively. Her frown deepened.
Worry and concern filled Ty’s eyes. “I suspect that the more you learn in the next week, the less an article proposing that we get rid of the bombers is going to make sense to you. But I think you know that already,” he added. Ty pushed away the coffee cup and leaned back against the seat. “I really don’t care about the article one way or another, but I wonder if you’ll get that promotion if you don’t write it the way they want.”
Erin was forced to agree. “I don’t know, either, Ty. All I do know is that I won’t write lies. Not for money and not for a promotion. I can’t do that.”
“What will happen to your career if you can’t write the story they want?”
She gave a helpless shrug. “Oh, I’ll be in the doghouse, no doubt.”
“And you’d be back on a national beat, traveling more than ever. Something you’re trying to cut back on.”
“Yes, that’s true. I’m not looking forward to sleeping in hotel rooms and running to the nearest fast-food restaurant for another four or five years.”
Silence lengthened between them. Erin sensed that Ty was grappling with some problem, but she didn’t know what it was. He appeared concerned about her welfare and career, and her heart blossomed toward him with renewed warmth. She leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “Ty,” she murmured, “I appreciate your concern.”
“I had a chance to do a little investigating on your editor, Bruce Lansbury,” he said, surprising her. “We’ve got a pretty complete library here on the base, and I read a number of articles by him over the past three or four years. He’s very opinionated.”
She laughed with little humor. “Yes, he’s single-minded when he wants to be.”
Ty watched her with an indefinable expression in his eyes. “Has he ever railroaded you on any articles you’ve written in the past?”
“Never. He knows better,” she answered firmly. “Bruce and I have an unspoken agreement. Sometimes he does influence a few of the reporters to write things they wouldn’t ordinarily put down on their own. I’ve had arguments, or I should say healthy discussions, with him in the past on what I feel a reporter’s responsibilities are.”
“What are yours?” he asked.
“To stick to objective facts, not hearsay or emotionalism.”
Ty frowned. “A lot of Bruce Lansbury’s articles are biased, presenting only one side or injecting subtle editorializing. He tends to stack the deck.” He looked over at her. “I don’t want you to get the idea that I’m worried about the Triad article you’ll write, Erin. What I am concerned about is the confrontation that’s bound to occur when your responsibilities as a reporter come up against Lansbury’s demands.”
“Bruce has always respected my stand in the past,” Erin reiterated, unsettled by Ty’s warning. She felt he was probing for another specific but unspoken reason. Finally, he sat up.
“Your editor is a pretty good chess player,” was all he said. “Just be careful, Erin. I don’t want to see you get caught in the middle.”
She smiled, touched by his concern. “I think you’re making too much of it, Ty.”
He nodded. “Probably am. Let’s talk about something happier—you and me.”
Her eyes widened as she studied his face. There was a hint of challenge in his eyes. “Okay, what about you and me?”
“Ready for that picnic tomorrow afternoon?”
“Can’t wait.”
He tilted his head, his blue eyes dancing with devilry. “Are you sure?” he baited.
“Very sure,” she promised. She leaned forward, her hands on the table. “Ty…”
He shook his head. “Not now, Erin,” he murmured.
She gave him a startled look. “How do you know what I was going to say?”
“Like I said, darlin’, everything is broadcast on your face before it comes out of those lovely, inviting lips. And I can’t reach out and hold your hands, like I want, because of where we are. The military frowns on it. I know we’ve got some serious talking to do.” His voice lowered, becoming more intimate. “I’m having one hell of a time keeping my hands off you. A couple of times I just caught myself from throwing my arms around your shoul
ders and drawing you near me.”
Erin trembled inwardly, his voice a delicious caress. “Don’t you think I haven’t wanted to reach out and touch you, too?” she murmured.
He picked up his flight cap from the table. “Tomorrow,” he promised huskily. “Tomorrow you aren’t going to get away from me, Erin Quinlan.”
After taking Erin through the Buff the next morning, Ty drove her directly back to her quarters. He followed her in, smiling. “Quite a plane, isn’t she?” he said.
Erin went to the kitchen and washed her hands. They had started at the cockpit and worked their way back through the cramped area where the crew members operated, and her hands were dirty. “I’m impressed,” she agreed. “Really impressed.”
Ty leaned lazily in the kitchen doorway. “I was impressed, too,” he responded, becoming serious for a moment. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
She dried her hands on a towel and walked past him, hesitating at the bedroom door. “I had a great teacher. What can I say? You made it simple enough so that even I could understand what you guys do.” She shook her head. “And I’ll tell you something, Ty, I’m in awe of all of you. The amount of knowledge required to fly that huge bomber simply stuns me.”
He shrugged, looking embarrassed, then said brightly, “Get changed into some comfortable clothes, darlin’. I want to get off this base to some freedom.”
An hour later Erin stepped from the SUV and looked up at a huge two-story modern house set on a lot heavily wooded with ash, oak and maple trees. Caught up in Ty’s happy mood, she returned his smile as he gripped her hand and led her up the steps.
“So this is how an air force captain lives,” she drawled. “Must be nice.”
He shoved the door open and ushered her into the foyer. “I’m single, remember? I don’t have a wife and three or four kids to support. Make yourself comfortable in the living room. It’ll only take a minute to change out of this uniform.”
Erin wandered into the spacious ivory-carpeted room. A beautifully carved oak mantel framed a brick fireplace. She ran her fingers along the smooth satin finish with appreciation, then gazed around her, noting the blending of cream, peach and soft gray tones. Dove-gray furniture helped to soften the room. A brass vase contained graceful sugarcane stalks, providing a personal touch.
On Wings of Passion Page 9