Untamed Desire

by Lindsay McKenna

  Storm frowned. “Does that mean Rickson will be there, too?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. You’re going to get your first taste of a sleepless night, with a lot of drunken partying going on.”

  “Great,” she muttered. She chewed on her lower lip and stole a look at him. His profile was sharp and confident. “Well, where will you be?” she asked in a low voice.

  Jim snorted, shifting the dark green Jeep into gear and moving out into the airport traffic. “I’ll make sure you’ve got the room on the end, and I’ll stick myself in the middle, between you and them.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “It just proves a woman has no business in this sort of job. If you were a man, I wouldn’t have to worry about a damn thing.”

  “Well, if you’d quit acting like the white knight to the damsel in distress, I’m sure you’d find I can take care of myself.”

  He gave her a sidelong glance of utter disbelief. “I wonder for how long. If you’d flown in here by yourself to pick up Rickson, what do you think the outcome would have been?”

  “You worry too much. Besides,” Storm growled, “I’ve managed to survive for the last year on my own, and have handled every problem that’s been thrown my way.” She wanted to add: “All except you…there’s no way to handle you,” but decided to clamp down on her impulsive tongue for once.

  He pulled the Jeep into the parking lot of a restaurant and got out, then waited for her on the steps. Storm smiled to herself. He had said no favors given, and that apparently included opening car doors. Stepping past him, she smiled demurely and opened the door for him. “After you,” she said, barely able to keep the laughter from her voice.

  Jim’s lips twitched as he walked past her. In no time they were seated and looking over the menu.

  “You’re from Seattle originally?” he asked.

  Storm nodded. “Yes. At this particular place I’d recommend the king crab legs or the lobster.”

  One eyebrow rose in response, and he closed the menu. “Champagne taste. Dan likes us to watch our tabs when we’re out on business.”

  His chiding tone made her angry. “Well, hamburger, then.”

  “My, you are a touchy woman,” he breathed softly.

  “I am not,” she hissed, leaning across the table, her cheeks flushed. “You tell me I can’t have steak or seafood—so what’s left? You’re infuriating!”

  The waiter came, and Storm sat back abruptly, arms folded across her chest, livid with rage. Jim looked up at her as if they were having a friendly conversation. “The lady and I will have the king crab.”

  The minute the waiter left, she leaned forward, both elbows on the white tablecloth. “You are an impossible person!”

  He slowly unfolded his napkin, all the time watching her with a peculiar glint in his gray eyes. “Do you know how lovely you look when you’re angry? I think I’ll tease you more often.” He allowed a hint of a smile to show, smoothing the cloth out over his thighs and then clasping his hands over the plate in front of him.

  “Are you deliberately baiting me?” she snapped.

  Jim shrugged. “No.”

  “Then why did you tell me we couldn’t have steak or seafood?”

  “Because I thought the bill would go on our expense accounts. Then I decided to buy you dinner since you were looking so fondly at the crab.”

  Storm jerked her own napkin open and flung it on her lap. “Like hell you will. I’m taking nothing, absolutely nothing, from you, Talbot. Do you hear me?”

  He grinned. “Loud and clear. Now settle down, will you? Everyone in the restaurant is watching you.”

  She took a quick drink of water, hoping the ice would chill her anger. It didn’t help, but she managed to keep silent.

  “That’s better,” he murmured. After a moment the salad arrived, and he became engrossed in eating. Storm glared at him, then stabbed at the lettuce and tomato. The silence lengthened between them, and she deliberately shut out any awareness of him, allowing only the sounds of clinking silverware to reach her.

  “Tell me,” he said softly, “with a temper like yours, how did your marriage last four years?”

  Storm looked up, stunned by his warm tone. “What?”

  “Your ex-husband must have been one of two things. Either he was a metrosexual or he railroaded you until you started fighting back. Which was it?”

  She put down her fork, wiping her mouth and watching him warily. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’m interested in what makes you tick, that’s all.”

  She considered the comment, studying him like a mongoose watches a King Cobra ready to strike. If she trusted her instinct, he was sincere. But until now, they’d disagreed at every turn. How could he possibly be interested in her?

  “Good guess. It was the second one,” she admitted, and then turned her attention back to the salad, uncomfortable at his ability to figure her out.

  “You remind me of a sleek air force jet, so much volatile, deadly power. The wrong kind of pressure on the stick will cause it to destroy itself,” he said equably.

  “Thanks—I think.”

  Jim smiled. “Hey, that was a compliment. Not everyone can fly a jet. It’s a delicate, fragile instrument armed with massive engines and unbelievable power. You’re the same way. I can see where most men would either be destroyed by your energy or they’d try to break your spirit. “His voice lowered, and he reached across the table to take her hand. “A man shouldn’t have to break your spirit to tame you.”

  Storm could only stare wordlessly across at him, her heart pounding. An ache was forming in her throat, and she swallowed hard, fighting back sudden tears.

  Jim leaned back, quietly assessing her mobile features. “Did he abuse you?”

  Storm’s lips tightened, and she fought hard against the tears she refused to let fall. “Stop asking me personal questions,” she whispered painfully.

  Jim shook his head and sat up, holding her shadowed blue eyes with his own. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to do this to you. I only wanted to try to figure out why you’re so damn hostile.”

  “I suppose you’re a qualified therapist, too,” she hurled back bitterly.

  He managed a half smile. “Despite some opinions to the contrary, I think I’ve got a pretty good bedside manner. I make it my business to know my pilots, and right now you’re one of them. I have to know ahead of time how you’ll react under stressful situations, that’s all.”

  Stunned by his cool appraisal, Storm realized she had completely lost her appetite. “You remind me of a surgeon who cuts up people just to see how they tick. That’s horrible.”

  “There you go again,” he said. “Don’t think it’s fun for me to sit here and watch you on the verge of tears because I blundered on the truth.

  “I’m sorry.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Here—your mascara will run if you don’t dry your eyes.”

  Storm blinked, forcing the tears away. She took the handkerchief and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t meant to cry. What was it about Jim Talbot that touched her heart? The main course arrived, and they fell silent until the waiter left. Jim began cracking crab legs methodically. He looked up at her.

  “You better eat.”

  She made a face. “I’m not very hungry.”

  He sighed deeply and studied her for a long moment. “Look, there are going to be times in the next three months when you will be plenty upset, but you’ll have to eat. Hunting season is the worst for us pilots and the medical team. We’ll be operating on just four-to-six hours of sleep a night. You have to learn to eat on the run. Now, come on, get a little nourishment into you. You’re pale as hell.”

  She looked down at the steaming orange-and-white crab legs. The odor made her mouth water, but her stomach was still tight from their previous conversation. Yet she allowed herself to be moved by the concern in his voice and hesitantly began digging for the succulent, sweet meat of
one large leg. Storm knew that if he had taken any other tack with her, she would have balked like a stubborn donkey and refused. He had handled her as delicately as that jet aircraft he had talked about earlier, and it left her breathless with amazement and wanting to know more about him.

  Their motel was a sumptuous three-story building near a large inland lake. Dan Bradford may have wanted them to watch their expenses, but he did have a taste for elegance. She followed Jim out of the elevator on the third floor and waited for him to unlock her door.

  “It’s all yours. Go ahead and get your beauty sleep. I’ll make sure Rickson’s gear is stowed aboard the plane tomorrow.”

  Storm frowned. “And I suppose you’ll tell Dan that I couldn’t do my share of work down here, and that will be the first black mark against me. No thanks, Talbot. I’m going with you.” She brushed past him.

  Suddenly, she found herself being spun around. Storm gasped, her hands coming to rest against Jim’s broad chest. His fingers were gentle about her arms as he leaned down, anger flashing in his gray eyes.

  “What’s the matter with you, Reynolds? Can’t you take a little pampering from a man?” His breath was warm and moist against her face, and her heart raced.

  She tried to struggle free, but his grip tightened. “Let me go.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered harshly.

  She stood within his grasp, her blue eyes wide with disbelief. His grip relaxed, and his hands moved to her shoulders, resting there.

  “Look, it’s my way of apologizing for upsetting you earlier. You look tired, and I pushed you too hard about your past.” His hands fell from her and he straightened. “I’ve got to watch what I say to you. I can see that. But let’s get this straight, Storm. I’m not going to deliberately try to make you look bad. I would never do that.” His features clouded as he watched her. “Learn to trust me.”

  His nearness was overwhelming, and she had to step away from his tense, hard body. Her eyes glinted with hurt. “Trust you?” Her voice went low with feeling. “When you’re after my job? Tell me, how can I trust you?”

  Jim ran his hand through his hair in a distracted motion. “Okay, okay, you have a point. Damn, you’re sensitive!”

  “Well, you’ve made me that way!” she flung back. She didn’t want to cry again. Not in front of him! She bit down on her lower lip.

  Jim’s features softened. “I’ll try very hard to change your opinion of me. For now, get some sleep. I’ll meet you in the dining room for breakfast at 5:30. a.m. Good night.”

  Chapter Four

  STORM WAS AWAKENED at one o’clock in the morning by noise in the corridor outside her room. Loud whoops and the squeal of several women made her sit up. She frowned, rubbing her eyes. The din continued even when the noisemakers seemed to have gone into one of the rooms. Finally, she decided further sleep was impossible.

  After pulling on a pair of comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved sweater, Storm slipped into a light wool jacket and peeked out the door. It was momentarily empty of the merrymakers, and she walked silently down the exit stairs. Jamming her hands into the jacket pockets, she saw that she had to walk by the bar area in order to get to the front door, which led to the lakefront. The music was raucous and hurt her ears. A few members of Rickson’s group sat at a table, all slumped happily over glasses. Storm caught sight of Jim Talbot and instantly froze. What was he doing here? But that was really none of her business, she admonished herself, and hurried outside and down to the edge of the lake.

  The lapping water soothed Storm’s tattered nerves, and she breathed in deeply, pulling her jacket more tightly about her to ward off the dampness of the early morning. Overhead, scattered clouds shone clearly in the light of a full moon. She picked her way along the sandy shore, glad to be away from all the activity at the lively motel. Stopping, she found a delicate shell lodged in the sand and picked it up, rubbing her fingers over its smooth surface. She was so immersed in the sounds and smells of the lake that she didn’t hear the crunch of footsteps in the sand until she realized someone was standing just a few feet away from her.

  Storm swung around with a soft gasp, her eyes wide with fright. At the sight of Jim Talbot, her startled expression vanished, and she frowned instead, putting her hands back in her pockets.

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  Jim smiled easily, his long-sleeved shirt rolled up to the elbows. He stood quietly staring at her. “You wouldn’t be saying that if it were Rickson or one of his bunch,” he chided.

  Storm scuffed the toe of her shoe in the sand, confused by Jim’s easy, off-hand tone. His eyes were hooded and dark, and one corner of his mouth was pulled into a slight smile. He reminded her of a wolf who had sighted his prey and knew it was only a matter of time until he entrapped it.

  “No, I’d probably be saying a few rough things to them,” she agreed, and then turned, continuing to walk slowly. Jim accompanied her, his shoulder barely inches from hers. Storm looked guardedly at him. “Why don’t you go back and join the clients? It looked like you were having fun.”

  “Do I detect a note of accusation in your voice?” he teased.

  “No.”

  “Socializing is part of the job, you know.” He looked down at her meaningfully. “In order to keep the business, we have to mingle. You’ll have to do that, too.”

  Storm’s nostrils flared, and her eyes flashed with anger. “Over my dead body! Dan Bradford never discussed such a thing with me!”

  “There you go again, overreacting.” He laughed softly, and swung her around to face him. His hands rested casually on her shoulders, causing her flesh to tingle.

  “Just what does ‘mingling’ mean?” she demanded.

  “Having a few drinks, listening to their blarney, stroking their egos a bit and then gracefully excusing yourself.”

  “Sure. And getting pawed or drooled on, too.”

  Jim nodded thoughtfully. “Possibly. After all, hunters are accustomed to male pilots. We only have to laugh at their jokes, slap them on the back occasionally and drink a few beers. It’s hard to tell how they’ll react to an attractive single woman.” He frowned, studying her, then reaching up, smoothed a stray tendril of hair from her cheek with a wistful smile. “You know, even in this weak light you look beautiful. Your hair has gold highlights.”

  Storm’s lips parted as his fingers trailed down her temple, caressing her cheek and then resting beneath her jaw. With a slight pressure, he raised her chin.

  “Storm…” he said softly. “What a wanton, untamed name for you….” And he leaned down, his mouth resting caressingly against her lips. Gently, as if she were a rare, exotic flower, he tasted her full lips, parting them and exploring their shape. His hands came to rest on either side of her face, and he raised his head, his eyes dark. “You taste like wildflower honey,” he whispered huskily.

  Her heart was beating erratically, and she felt her knees weaken as his mouth descended to her own a second time. Her hands instinctively sought the curve of his neck, her fingers curling into his hair. A delicious shudder heated her body as his tongue slowly stroked her sensitive lips, carefully avoiding her own tongue. A moan of pleasure reverberated through her as his exploratory kiss deepened, his tongue masterfully entwining with hers, his arms bringing her ever closer to him.

  He groaned as Storm melted willingly, her thighs pressed against his steadying hips and erection. Her breath came in a light, shallow gasp as he dragged his mouth away from hers. His gray eyes burned with passion as he hungrily devoured her face.

  “God,” he said thickly, “I want you….”

  Storm’s heart was thundering, and she felt an awakening response deep within her, an ache he had sparked by that one, indelible kiss. She could only stare wordlessly up at him, watching his strong, generous mouth move with words that didn’t register on her dizzied senses. She heard him call her name and it sent shivers up her spine. She closed her eyes, unable to move away from him.

  “I’v
e never met a woman like you,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Your name…such a different, incredibly beautiful name.” His hand slid down to cup her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Where did you get that name? It’s enough to drive any man crazy with desire.”

  Her lashes swept down across her high cheekbones like small fans against her ivory skin. “My father,” she choked softly. “He was a pilot for a commercial airline. One night he had to fly through a line of violent thunderstorms to get home. My mother was terribly worried, waiting for him at the airport.” Storm’s eyes grew large and liquid, and a smile trembled on her lips. “That was the night I was conceived, after he arrived home safely. I guess it was an unforgettable night for them.” Her voice had drifted into a hushed whisper.

  Jim’s hands moved gently down the length of her back, sending shivers of delight through her, and she rested against him.

  “An unforgettable name for an unforgettable woman,” he murmured.

  Jim reluctantly pulled away and held her at arm’s length, studying her critically. “You’re a curse and a blessing to me, Storm.”

  She tingled as he said her name, his deep voice simmering with barely checked passion. She was preoccupied with the sensations she was experiencing, and didn’t completely understand his words. Shaky and unsure of what had happened or why, she looked at him confusedly. Finally, she found her voice.

  “I was one man’s curse, that’s enough. I only want my job and to do what I love best—fly.”

  Jim let his hands drop away from her shoulders, and she stood alone. “A man who would see you as a curse has to be crazy. You just need care and tending…. You express every emotion in your face and eyes. I like that.” A smile curved his mouth. “Handle you properly, or you cloud up and get angry. Come on. It’s almost three o’clock,” he urged. “Rickson and his bunch ought to be sufficiently drunk to be in bed by now. Maybe we can catch a few hours’ sleep after all.” He pulled her close to his side and together they walked back to the motel.

  At the door of her room, Jim stopped and shook his head, smiling ruefully. “You look good no matter how little sleep you’ve had…clear blue eyes with flecks of gold. Go on now, get in there before I lose all sense of responsibility for my actions.”