Untamed Desire

by Lindsay McKenna

  A few of the pilots grinned, and one, a large, hulking man, snickered loudly.

  Dan quickly introduced all of them, but Storm could only remember bits and pieces because Jim Talbot was standing in the corner, staring critically at her. There was Jacques Oulette, the French Canadian everyone called Oscelot. She liked him immediately. His thin face, dancing brown eyes and warm smile made Storm feel as if she finally had a friend here. Ray Leeper, who they called Leapfrog, shyly inclined his sandy head in greeting, his green eyes large and watery, reminding her of a bug-eyed frog. The list went on until Dan came to Rafe Danziger. Storm distinctly remembered his snicker. He was the largest man in the room, with forbidding black eyes and dark hair framing a handsome square face. Something about him repelled her. Despite his broad smile, his curious gaze seemed to undress her. She managed a noncommittal smile as Dan introduced him.

  Throughout Dan’s introductions, Storm was acutely aware of Jim Talbot’s appraisal. More than once her glance met his to find his eyes assessing her with pointed interest. She didn’t understand his sudden change of mood. One moment he was a volcano on the verge of erupting; the next he seemed actually human.

  Dan Bradford went through the schedule for the next seven days. It was September second, and the season for hunting elk, grizzly bear and bighorn sheep. Alaska was a hunter’s paradise. With grizzly bears coming down out of the rugged mountains to catch the migrating salmon, it seemed, as each year passed, that more photographers were joining the hunters in this annual event. Dan began assigning pilots to fly certain parties to particular camps. Storm waited to hear her name called. Dan looked across at Jim.

  “Jim, take Storm and fly down to get that wild bunch at Nate Rickson’s and bring them back up here. There will be an overnight layover, and you can bring them back up the next day.” Dan scowled momentarily. “You remember them from last year?”

  “Too well.”

  “If they give you any trouble this time, you have my permission to dump them right in the middle of the Pacific.”

  Jim nodded. “I’ll take great pleasure in personally pushing them out the door.”

  Mystified, Storm looked from Dan to Jim. She shrugged and wrote down the dates of the two-day flight; it would be a simple task since she had flown the air routes to and from Alaska many times before with students.

  The session ended but Storm remained seated, waiting for the room to clear. Oscelot wandered over, pulling on his thick, dark beard, which had been lovingly groomed.

  “It’s a pleasure to have you with us, Storm,” he said in a thick, French-Canadian accent. He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss on it.

  Storm colored, surprised by the unexpected gesture. “Why—why, thank you, Jacques….”

  “Non, ma chérie…call me Oscelot.” He smiled broadly and released her fingers. “You are certainly more beautiful than the rest of these ugly creatures!”

  Rafe Danziger wandered by and leered down at her. “Moving in already, Oscelot? What’s your wife gonna say? Sure she ain’t another Molly Foster?” He grinned as he walked away.

  Oscelot frowned. “Hey! Danziger…watch your mouth.” The Canadian returned his attention to Storm. “Ah, pay him no mind. He’s from the lower forty-eight. You can tell that by his rude manners. Anyway, welcome, and I hope we get to work together soon.”

  Storm stood up and whispered her thanks. The only other person remaining in the room was Jim, standing by the door watching her. She bristled. She wasn’t used to such male scrutiny. Picking up her small purse and the clipboard, she walked over to him. “Do you always stare?” she asked testily.

  “When the woman’s worth looking at, yes,” came his clipped reply.

  “What do we do now?” she demanded, ignoring his backhanded compliment.

  “Go to my office. There are a few things I want to discuss with you.”

  She remembered his office only too well: polished spruce paneling, with a set of skis leaning in one corner, several official-looking certificates from the FAA hanging behind his desk, a few pictures of a woman and other family members scattered about his tidy walnut desk. He motioned for her to sit down and closed the door. Storm’s heart began to beat strongly. She watched him warily as he sat down on the edge of the desk.

  “Don’t get too complacent just because Dan’s letting you stay,” he said softly, a cutting edge to his voice. “In my book, you’re strictly a temporary pilot—”

  “Wait a minute! Mr. Bradford just said I was hired!”

  Jim’s brows drew downward in a frown. “Only if you finish the three-month probation period. The decision as to whether you stay or go rests entirely with me at the end of that time.”

  Storm stood up, her lips thinning with anger. “I see! And you’re going to make damn sure I don’t stay. Isn’t that it, Talbot?”

  “For three months you fly everywhere I do,” he growled, “and I’ll log every mistake you make.”

  She was trembling, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. How she wanted to strike out at his handsome face! “You’ve got it all planned, haven’t you?” she said. “Just let me walk blindly into new and strange situations and watch me bungle them! I knew you hated me, but your methods of getting rid of me are utterly despicable.”

  Jim leaned back, sizing her up. “I told Dan I’d teach you everything I could.” His tone hardened. “Let’s get two things straight, Reynolds. I don’t hate you, and I’ll treat you fairly. If you can follow directions, we’ll get along fine. The moment you screw up, I’ll be there to log it in. I won’t deliberately make you look bad, but I’m not going to help make you look good, either. To me, you’re just another trainee.”

  Storm’s nostrils flared with fury. “Okay. If that’s the way you want to play the game, it’s fine with me. You’ve got the manners of a ruffian, do you know that?”

  Jim grinned sourly. “I’ll accept the compliment.” He thought that his bedside manner is much better. Storm ought to find out about it firsthand sometime.

  Storm snapped her mouth shut, stunned by his bluntness. The lively twinkle in his eye only incensed her more, and she choked out, “I don’t like you, and I don’t like your kind, but I’ll work around you, Talbot…and I’ll be so damn good at my job I’ll make it through this probationary period and get a lifetime contract with Bradford Outfitters.”

  Jim sat there, grinning lazily. “That’s one of many things I like about you. You’ve got a backbone. All right, we know where we stand with each other. Let’s get to work.”

  Every moment with him was agony, like holding a hot coal in the palm of her hand. Her anger stayed just below the boiling point, and she remained on polite but tense terms with him as they logged the flight plan to and from Seattle at the flight desk in Operations.

  When Storm returned to the office, Stella handed her five olive-green uniforms. “Wear these all the time, honey,” she explained, wrinkling her pinched nose. “With your gorgeous red hair you’ll manage to make them look smashing. Coveralls work better when you’re dealing with medical emergencies. There are fewer corners or openings to get caught on things,” she explained. “You can use the ladies’ room to change in.”

  By ten-thirty, Storm had slipped into the Outfitters uniform and was driving back to her apartment, located ten minutes from the airport, to pick up her overnight bag for the trip to Seattle. As might be expected, Jim’s parting words were, “Don’t take all day. We’ve got a schedule to meet. And travel light.”

  Chapter Three

  BACK AT THE airport, Jim ordered Storm to fly the wide-bodied twin-engine Beechcraft Queen. It was dumpy, compared to the rugged and tough Beaver she had flown before, but the two planes had been designed for entirely different purposes. This was a passenger carrier, while the other was an air ambulance.

  Storm strapped into the pilot’s seat in the cockpit. As Jim entered, his arm brushed her shoulder, and her skin prickled pleasurably. Irritated at the thrilling current moving through her body, she conce
ntrated on the preflight checklist. They went over the items quickly and thoroughly. As he had promised, Jim gave her good directions and made helpful comments when needed. Other than that, they essentially ignored each other.

  Heading the plane through the dreary cloud layer, Storm broke the Queen out at twenty thousand feet into a bright landscape of azure sky and a glaring white sun. She slipped on pilot’s glasses. Jim leaned back, watching her.

  “You have a good touch with the aircraft.”

  Storm managed a cool smile. “Thanks.”

  The tension between them began to melt. Jim reached down and opened up a thermos.

  “Coffee?”

  “Love some.”

  “It’s got cream and sugar in it,” he warned.

  “I like it sweet and blond.”

  “Do I detect some military slang?” he asked, handing her the disposable cup.

  His fingers touched hers, and she had the wildest urge to jerk back from him, but she took the cup, a delightful tingle continuing after the contact was broken.

  She took a sip, her gaze moving restlessly across the fluctuating dials. “Yes, navy slang.” She gave him a droll look. “Obviously you didn’t dig too far into my personnel file.”

  He smiled and lifted the cup to his mouth. “Yes, I did. I just wanted to see if you’d admit to being in the navy for three years. You must have joined right after high school. A lot of women are reluctant to admit they spent time in the service.

  Storm nodded. “I see.”

  Maybe it was the warmth of the coffee…or, did she dare to hope, had they finally learned to carry on a normal conversation, to speak to each other without snarling or snapping?

  “Did you enjoy the navy?” he asked.

  “Yes. I got some very valuable training as a meteorologist, which has helped in my flying. I can’t complain.”

  “I was in the air force for six years.”

  “Could have fooled me,” she teased drily. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, Storm saw him smile and settle back in the seat, the cup balanced on his right knee.

  “Oh?” he prodded.

  “I’ll bet you were a hot-rock jet jockey. The kind that drove his wing commander crazy. I’ll bet you pointed the nose of your jet straight up at the end of the runway. Then your commander would get fifty calls from irate residents outside the base because you broke windows, rattled mothers and woke sleeping babies by breaking the sound barrier.”

  Jim looked at her quizzically before breaking into a leisurely smile. “Reynolds, you keep surprising me like this, and I might change my mind about you.”

  “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  “I never promise anything I can’t deliver and I found out a long time ago people are too damn unpredictable to try to second-guess their behavior.” His brows furrowed for a moment and Storm felt a sudden chill.

  “So why didn’t you go for the big-airline pilot job after you finished your stint in the air force?” she asked with forced lightness.

  He shrugged. “Circumstances…” he said, and then he sighed, sipping the coffee. She wondered about his sudden withdrawal, but something cautioned her not to ask about it. Instead, she switched topics, hoping to continue their easygoing exchange.

  “I got quite a bit of flight time in when I was in the service,” Storm finally put in. “I had an air-controller friend who was a licensed pilot. Between us we scraped together enough money to rent a single-engine plane to build up our flight hours.”

  “With your looks, I’ll bet you didn’t have any trouble wrapping men around your little finger.”

  Storm glared at him. “Meaning what? I suppose you think I played games with men who could provide enough money for me to fly?”

  Jim held up his hand. “Hey…take it easy! Damn, you’re touchy.” His gray eyes darkened as he held her fiery gaze. “I can’t envision any man expecting you to do anything you didn’t want to do. I simply meant it as an honest compliment. Truce?”

  Storm licked her lower lip, managing to quell her anger. “Okay, I’m sorry. It’s just that…”

  “What?” he coaxed.

  “Oh, never mind! You’d never understand.”

  Jim poured himself more coffee and held the thermos out to her. “Try me. I’m not the ogre you make me out to be. More?”

  She held out her cup. After taking a quick sip, she growled, “I’m sick and tired of men who ogle me and then suggest I’m competent because they’re preoccupied with my body, that’s all.”

  “Don’t knock it. You’re good-looking, and that certainly doesn’t hurt.” He grinned mischievously. “At least not from my standpoint.”

  Her face stiffened, and she held his gaze. “Listen, you have no idea what it’s like to be told by some big executive that I don’t have a brain in my head because I’m good-looking. That’s why,” she said stubbornly, “this job means so much to me. Dan Bradford hired me on the basis of my skill, not my appearance. And I intend to pass muster with or without your help.”

  “I believe you mean it. If you’re as good as your blarney, Reynolds, you just might make the grade after all.”

  For the duration of the flight, Storm mulled over their conversation. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he didn’t want a woman pilot around. He didn’t seem to dislike her personally.

  Sighing, she concentrated on flying the Queen to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport to meet their party of hunters.

  Storm disliked Nate Rickson immediately. His face was rough with a day’s stubble, and his bulbous nose dominated his meaty features.

  “What’s this, Talbot?” he boomed, slapping Jim heartily on the back. “You finally break down and get another woman? By God, she’s a looker.”

  Storm halted downwind of the hunter, smelling the mixture of rancid cigar smoke and liquor that surrounded him. Compressing her lips, she threw back her head and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Cool it, Rickson,” Jim growled. He turned to Storm. “This is Ms. Reynolds, and she’ll be piloting for you.”

  Nate’s bushy eyebrows rose in obvious pleasure.

  “I got a better idea, Talbot. You pilot, and the little lady can join us in the back for a party.” He boomed with laughter, his fat body shaking.

  Storm stepped forward, ready to come to her own defense, but Jim gripped her arm firmly, effectively stopping her. He gave her a slight shake of his head, warning her off. Drawing her to one side, he looked closely at the hunter.

  “I hear one more slurred word coming out of your mouth, Rickson, and you can fly to Alaska on your own hot air. Got that?”

  “Ah, Talbot, you’re such a sour bastard. Hell, I was just joshing!” He peered across Jim’s shoulder at Storm. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. If you’re a bush pilot, you know we’re nothing but a bunch of good ole boys lookin’ to have a good time.” He grinned, showing his capped teeth, and Storm cringed, frowning.

  “I’m not in the habit of listening to sexual harassment garbage, Mr. Rickson,” she returned pointedly.

  To her surprise, Jim came to her side, his hand settling on her elbow. A brief shiver rippled through her, and she turned, giving him a querulous look.

  “Storm and I are going out to eat, Rickson. We’ll be leaving at 6:00 a.m. tomorrow, so make sure you’re here by then and have your gear stowed on board.”

  He propelled Storm off the apron area to file the return-flight plan at the Operations building. Finally, his hand slipped from her elbow.

  “Where do you pick up these lechers?” she asked.

  “Most of the hunters are decent enough. Rickson and his bunch are very rich businessmen from the West Coast who make their annual trek north at this time of year. They party twenty-five hours a day. When they get away from their families, they go wild. I guess that’s their way of easing the tension of their demanding jobs.”

  Storm shook her head, enjoying Jim’s closeness as he checked his long stride to match her own. “He sure came on strong,�
�� she commented.

  Jim glanced at her. “Well,” he said grimly, “you’d better get used to it. These men will be letting it all hang loose, and, like I said before, women are considered good for only one thing around here, and it sure as hell isn’t flying a plane.”

  “Just the same,” she said, lowering her voice to a husky whisper, “thanks for helping me.”

  He grinned. “I saw you clench your fist. I couldn’t afford to have you deck him on the spot.”

  Storm laughed lightly. “I didn’t even realize I’d done it.” She stopped, her hands on her hips. “Do you actually think I’d hit somebody?” she demanded.

  Jim swung around, a lazy grin on his face. “No, not really. I figure if you haven’t tried to hit me by now, with all the hot words we’ve traded, you aren’t going to hit anyone.”

  They stood facing each other a few feet apart, an invisible web of attraction, an undeniable magnetism, building between them. Storm watched Jim’s expression soften as he studied her features. She didn’t mind his gray, clear-eyed gaze. It made her feel good, glad to be with him. He shook his head.

  “Well, it seems I’m not going to get rid of you tonight. I can’t afford to have Rickson tracking you down. After we file the flight, let’s go out to dinner.”

  “Together?”

  “Is there any other way?”

  “Well…I didn’t think you wanted—”

  “I like your company,” he interrupted. “I just don’t believe you can do the job of a bush pilot.”

  Storm grinned impishly, tossing her copper hair across her shoulders in a gesture of defiance. “Okay, I can accept that for now. Are you calling a truce for tonight, then?”

  “Why not?” He pulled her forward, and they walked in the evening twilight to a nearby parking lot. Already, scudding clouds that had lurked offshore all day were blanketing Seattle in a gray mantle.

  “Where are we staying tonight?” Storm asked as they climbed into the rented car.

  “Bradford Outfitters always has a motel rented for its pilots and clients.”