Untamed Desire (10 page)

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just bad luck.” He gave a short laugh. “And now, from the look of things, you’re coming down with the flu.”

“Probably. It hit me around noon. Just nausea off and on all day.”

He placed his hand on her forehead. “It doesn’t feel like you’re running a temperature.”

Storm shrugged. “Maybe it’s just the strain, Jim.” She colored slightly. “Look, about last night. It’s my turn to apologize.” She stole a look up into his gray eyes, and they melted her soul. “I’m still not completely over the bad effects of my marriage, Jim. Jack ingrained in me the idea that everyone has an angle—everyone wants something for himself. I’ve been mistrustful ever since. I thought I’d gotten better about it, but last night it surfaced once again.”

“I’m glad you told me,” he said huskily, his gaze hungrily assessing her features. “Because I want us to know each other in every way, Storm. And that means more than making love to you.” He caressed her cheek tenderly. “Although that thought keeps crossing my mind whether I’m with you or not.”

She lowered her gaze. “I—I feel the same way, Jim. It’s very hard,” she confessed, “to trust my feelings again.”

“Well,” he said softly, “only fifteen more days of this mad rush and then we’ll have all the time we need.” He captured her face between his hands. “Let’s understand one thing. I’m not after your job anymore. I don’t like your flying because I worry every second you’re out of my sight. I worry because of what happened to Heather. Storm, I’m caught up in the past just as much as you are.” His look was long and searching.

The prick of tears startled her, and she dashed them away with the back of her hand. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me, lately. I get so emotional….” she whispered brokenly.

He embraced her tightly, and kissed her cheek. “It’s becoming, believe me. Here, let me help you with the post-flight check, and then let’s go to dinner.”

She grimaced, pulling away. “Food? Ugh. Can I take a rain check on it, Jim? All I want to do is crawl into a hot tub and then into bed. I think I need twelve hours of sleep to make up for the last few days.”

He agreed grimly. “They haven’t exactly been uneventful days, have they?”

For the next three days, Storm worked relentlessly, ferrying hunters from Anchorage to Seattle. Every day about noon the queasy feeling reoccurred. Every bump or air pocket the aircraft hit increased her agitation, and she began to keep a bag close by, just in case.

She saw little of Jim. With Danziger gone, everyone’s load had been increased. All she did was fly, sleep and nibble on crackers. Already she’d lost at least five pounds. Well, that was one way to diet.

On the third day, the jewel-like lights of Anchorage were a welcome sight as she brought the Aztec around for the final approach to the airport. It was nearly one-thirty in the morning, and she knew that, as much as she wished Jim were waiting for her at the office, he would be home sleeping, like every other exhausted pilot.

She taxied the Aztec into the hangar, hitting the left rudder hard and revving up the starboard engine to point the plane toward the doors. As the lights from the undercarriage flashed across the hangar, Storm caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She must be seeing things. Being sick and tired didn’t make for good vision, she thought dully.

The post-flight check took longer than usual because she was tired. Finally, she left the plane, locking the hatch door behind her. Picking up her traveling bag, she walked slowly toward the side door. Only a few lights were on, just enough to break the gloom of total darkness. The hollow ring of her shoes on the concrete echoed off the walls, sounding even sharper in the cold.

For no particular reason Storm felt uneasy. She turned once to look around. Had she sensed a movement? No, it must have been her imagination. Shaking her head, she walked to the main building.

She was finishing her work in the office when a car pulled up outside. Jim appeared at the office door, looking as if he had just woken up. He gave her a brief smile of welcome.

“Mind if I use an old cliché and tell you you’re a sight for sore eyes?” he asked.

She smiled, dropping her pen. “Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she cried, running around the desk, into his arms. His mouth brushed her waiting lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His musky scent washed over her, heightening her desire to be near him. She pressed her body against him, and he groaned.

“Lord,” he whispered, “I’ve missed you so much, Storm.”

She kissed his strong jaw, cheek and mouth with unabashed joy, then hugged him fiercely. “I’ve had a lot of time to think,” she answered breathlessly, her eyes glowing with happiness.

“I think of you all the time,” he replied. “Twenty-five hours a day.” He leaned down, brushing his cheek against her hair. “I want you to stay with me tonight.”

“But—”

He kissed her soundly. “No buts.”

She giggled. “But I have to leave here by 8:00 a.m. to fly to Camp Seven tomorrow.”

He slipped his arm around her waist and picked up her shoulder bag. “Correction. There’s been a schedule change. You and I will fly that run tomorrow morning, so there’s no reason why you can’t stay with me tonight.” He looked at her warmly. “I decided that waiting to see you until this rush is over is for the birds. Are you game?”

Storm smiled back. “Yes,” she answered softly, “I’m game. It will be nice to have some company for once on that long haul over the mountain range. But tomorrow was supposed to be your day off.”

“What’s a day off without you? Can you put up with me?”

“I think so. I’m going to try very hard not to jump to conclusions and start an argument.”

Jim opened the door for her. “I’ll be on good behavior, too. Hungry?”

Storm shook her head. “Not in the least.”

He glanced at her with concern as they slid into the front seat of the car. “That’s a funny kind of flu you have. Most viruses don’t last that long.”

She relaxed against the seat. “Maybe it’s a new strain,” she replied absently, closing her eyes.

The fire cast a flickering glow across the living room as Storm walked in, knotting the terry-cloth sash of the robe—his robe—she was wearing. A hot shower had washed away some of her exhaustion. She knelt down beside Jim on the bearskin rug and took the glass of rosé offered. She swirled the pink contents around. “Such a delicate color,” she murmured, taking a small sip.

Jim reached up, his thumb tracing the outline of her jaw and slender throat. “Like you, Irish storm goddess. You’re more delicate than a gyroscope.”

Storm grinned recklessly at the strange comparison. “I suppose you consider that a big compliment?”

“Of course. From one pilot to another, that is,” he added, massaging her shoulders in a lazy motion.

Storm sighed and closed her eyes. “How did you know my shoulder muscles were so tight?”

“You’re tense all over.”

She set her glass down and fitted her body against him, laying her head on his broad shoulder. “I’m so glad we don’t have much longer on this schedule. I’m so tired.”

He nodded, nudging the robe away from her neck, continuing to coax the tenseness out of her body. “A few more days and it will be all over, and then we can get ready for the first major storms of the year.”

The tightness in Storm’s back melted away under his experienced hands. The closeness between them was new and wonderful to her. She had never spent time like this with Jack. He’d always had a list of things for her to do, and she always dropped into bed late at night, numb from work.

How much of life she had missed! How much more Jim could teach her, share with her. Her heart ached with love for him, and she lifted her lips, finding his mouth and kissing him tentatively.

His reaction was swift and satisfying to her fragile confidence. The crush of his arms took her breath away. His mouth, so strong and male, plundered her lips in a dizzying, searching kiss. He laid her gently down on the rug, her copper hair a flaming contrast to the pure white fur. His eyes glittered with barely restrained passion as he leaned across her, his hand resting near her waist. Storm closed her eyes as she felt the caress of his mouth against her neck, and her pulse leaped crazily.

His unhurried movements urged Storm into becoming a willing partner, and she began to unbutton his shirt, moving her fingers slowly over the dark hair that covered his broad chest. The feel of his muscles thrilled her as she continued to explore, her fingers running lightly down his chest to his lean waist and stomach. Jim groaned as his hand caressed the side of her breast. Storm gasped, her eyes widening with the unexpected pleasure as her skin tingled from his knowing touch.

He pulled the coarse terry-cloth robe away from her shoulders. Cool air touched her heated body and a happy sound came from her throat as his mouth brushed her taut breasts. Instinctively, she pulled his lips down on the hardening peaks. The last vestiges of her inhibitions melted in a fiery passion.

“You’re mine,” he growled thickly. “Always, Storm. We were meant for each other.”

The words, sweet ecstasy to her ears, heightened her need for him. Each kiss ignited a new fire within her and she ached to be ever closer to him, to feel him deep within her. A thousand swirling sensations triggered a new urgency as she felt his weight descend on her. The roughness of his chest hair against her ripe breasts, the heat of his tongue capturing hers, his hard male strength barely held in check against her damp thighs. His knee parted them and she arched upward, hungry to be one with him.

A small cry bubbled from her throat as he entered her. He was taking her into a spiraling flight of soaring passion ignited by an untamed desire she had never known she could feel. The world, the night and they became one scintillating, whirling pattern of flight into spheres of pleasure that made her sob with joy and a sense of completeness.

He kissed her tears away, keeping her locked in a tight embrace afterward.

“Why the tears?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“Tears of joy, of trust and relief that I can love fully,” she whispered.

Gently, Jim wiped her cheeks with his fingers. He rose up on one elbow, drinking in her every feature.

“We’ve shared everything, Storm,” he said quietly.” Our tears of grief and now of happiness. You’re like an unchained eagle flying the very limits of the sky….”

She shivered within his arms, nuzzling his neck and shoulder.

“An eagle,” she said wistfully. “What a beautiful picture.”

He caressed her naked shoulder and arm, the firelight casting dancing shadows over them. “Have you ever seen two eagles mate?”

“No,” she said, her voice still wispy.

“Up here in Alaska, you can see them sometimes. What an exhilarating experience. They fly to ten thousand feet and then lock claws and tumble earthward in a beautiful circular free fall.” He smiled. “It’s quite a spectacle. We’ll see it together sometime.”

Storm smiled lazily, content to languish in his arms. “I don’t need to see it now, darling. I feel like I’ve just experienced it.”

Jim leaned down and kissed her tenderly. “I’ll never forget tonight, this moment, as long as I live.” He studied her in silence, as if imprinting her features on his mind. “I meant it, Storm. I want you forever…. I can’t live without you. I love you so damn much, it hurts.”

Tears jammed into her eyes. “I love you so much,” she whispered, a catch in her voice, embracing him. He laughed as he held her close.

“I propose, and all I get are tears,” he murmured wryly. “Is that a qualified yes or no, honey?”

Storm managed to sit up and still remain within his arms. “Can you put up with my defensiveness until I grow out of it completely?” she asked.

“If you can put up with my worrying myself silly when you have to fly alone during bad weather.”

Storm managed a soft laugh. “What a pair we are! The risk taker and the worrywart.”

“We’ll manage,” Jim growled. He stood and picked Storm up in his arms, taking her to the bedroom. Jim gently deposited her on the cool, crisp sheets, then slid in beside her, pulling up the covers. Her hair lay in disarray across the pillow and his shoulder as he brought her against his naked body.

“We have a lot more talking to do,” he said, kissing her cheek, nose and finally, brushing her lips. “And we’ll have the time to do it. Let’s take each day as it comes and enjoy it to the fullest. Now, get some sleep, or in a few more minutes I’ll refuse to be held accountable for my actions.”

She smiled wearily, unable to touch him enough. His love for her amazed Storm. She’d never realized a man could need touching as much as a woman.

Sighing happily, Storm closed her eyes, thoroughly content. As she slid off to sleep, she heard the wind picking up outside the apartment. There would be bad weather tomorrow. But with Jim’s arms around her, she felt safe and warm.

JIM LEANED OVER
the counter, studying a detailed map, a cup of coffee in his hands. It was 7:00 a.m., and the entire building echoed with ringing telephones and the raised voices of hunters ready to return to the lower forty-eight. Storm remained at Jim’s elbow, absently eyeing the gathering storm clouds outside. The forecast called for the first heavy snowfall of the season by midday.

“Well,” Jim said good-naturedly, glancing up at Storm, “I think we’ll go as the crow flies today. We’ll have a strong tailwind until we hit the Alaska Range.” He traced the projected route on the map. “From there, we’ll cross Mentasta Pass at fifteen thousand feet, then drop down and fly over Dot Lake, and then make a beeline for Eagle, which sits on the Yukon River. Sound good?”

Storm nodded. Ordinarily, flying over the Alaska Range didn’t faze her, but today, something about it bothered her. Nevertheless, she decided not to voice her worry. For the past couple of weeks her emotions had gone crazily up and down. First, she had seen ghostlike movements in the hangar late at night. Now a feeling of dread had settled in the pit of her stomach.

She forced a smile for Jim’s benefit. “Are we taking the Aztec? There are only two hunters left to pick up at Camp Seven.”

Jim folded the map neatly and put it in his black briefcase. “No. We’re going to take the Cessna Crusader. It’s fully equipped with TFR and has autopilot.” He took her arm, walking with her out of the office. “With this storm coming up, I want a plane that will go as high as twenty thousand feet—above the cloud soup—if we have to.”

Storm grinned, zipping up her heavy parka. “I ought to fly with you more often. With you I get to ride in the top of the line,” she teased.

The white Crusader was parked in hangar three, its blue-and-black stripes running midfuselage from the nose to the tail. Storm’s eyes roved appreciatively over the turbo-charged, twin-engine aircraft. It was one of the Cessna models especially good at taking off and landing on short runways. She patted the nose and automatically began to inspect the elevators, rudder and other important points. Jim dropped the air stair and carried on their navigation case and small-box lunches, which Stella had packed for them.

He looked up as Storm made her way to the copilot’s seat. “Do you want to fly on the way back?” he asked.

“Of course. The plane’s a real beauty, isn’t she?”

He leaned over, slipping his hand around Storm’s neck and drawing her forward for a kiss. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look this morning?” he whispered, releasing her.

She colored and then strapped herself in. “You really know how to shake me up,” she confided.

Jim put on the headset, changing the radio channel to the air-control frequency. “You’d better get used to it, my Irish storm goddess. That’s part of your problem. You haven’t been loved properly or enough.”

Storm studied his buoyant, happy face. “You’ll spoil me rotten, Jim.”

“Why not?” He flipped several switches on, and the propeller on the port wing began to turn. It caught, coughed and then roared to life. “Besides, Storm, I want to spoil you.”

She completed the cabin check, wrapped in joy. The second engine caught and within moments Jim had skillfully worked the throttles so that their RPM pitch remained equal.

Even as they taxied out on the gusty runway toward their departure point, Storm barely took note of the weather conditions. The cabin temperature was comfortable, and all the gauges and indicators waved their dials within normal ranges. Most important, she was with Jim—the man she loved so much that she didn’t know how to tell him.

“Have you flown the Crusader before?” Jim asked, readying the plane for takeoff.

“I was briefly checked out on it before I came to Alaska. She seems to be a workhorse of a plane.”

He shoved the throttles forward, balancing his toes on the rudder brakes. “She’s a tough little twin. This trip will give you an idea of what she can do. Here we go.”

Storm loved the sudden surge forward as Jim released the brakes. The engines throbbed in powerful unison, lifting the Crusader off into the wind. Powerful gusts buffeted the aircraft, jostling it about. Storm’s grip tightened on her harness as they rode out the worst of it, climbing rapidly through gray, rolling clouds. Finally, they broke through the lower layer, moving along at a comfortable two hundred knots. Below them, the clouds looked like fluffy gray cotton. Above them lay another gray layer.

It was calmer at seventeen thousand feet, and Storm let out a small sigh of relief.

“It was a little rough,” Jim admitted, as if reading her thoughts.

“Is it always like this in the late fall?”

“Only sometimes. It’s different every year. It looks to me like winter is going to come in like a tiger. Are you all right? You look pale.”

Storm ignored his question and deliberately changed the subject. “What happens if the storm hits Anchorage before we return?”

“It depends on how fast the snow-removal equipment can clear the runways. If it looks bad once we land at Eagle, we’ll pick up our passengers and detour southeast to Whitehorse, Canada. We’ll wait there until the storm moves on.” He grinned. “Come to think of it, I know of a real nice little hotel in Whitehorse. It has good food, too.”

Storm laughed. “You’re impossible! Always turning a bad situation into a positive experience.”

“Might as well. Remember, every cup is half-full, not half-empty.”

Storm settled back in her seat, since there was very little to do. They were now passing over the Alaska Range. It was nearly eleven o’clock. Wrinkling her nose, she wondered if she was going to get nauseous again. No one else was having flu symptoms. In fact, the flu season didn’t seem to have begun in Anchorage at all. Suddenly, Storm inhaled sharply.

“What’s wrong, Storm?” Jim asked, concerned.

“Nothing,” she stammered, sitting up straight. Perspiration moistened the palms of her hands as she mulled over something her mother had once said: “It seems to be a hereditary trait in our family. All the women have morning sickness starting at noon and lasting until dinner.”

Storm closed her eyes, the possibility hitting her like a sledgehammer. Good Lord, was she pregnant? At thirty-two? Without thinking, she placed a hand on her abdomen. Her thoughts raced, and, with a sinking feeling, she knew it might very well be true. She and Jim had made love five weeks ago, and once since then…. She chewed her lower lip, torn between fear, uncertainty and joy. She was on the pill. She was supposed to have been protected. She stole a glance at Jim, and her heart seemed to burst with love. His profile was clean and strong, exuding confidence. She loved him. How she loved him! And now she might be carrying his child.

As if sensing her turmoil, Jim turned to her. “You’re absolutely colorless, honey. Are you sure you’re not running a temperature?” he asked.

“N-no,” she murmured, uncertain of what to say.

“Maybe you’re slightly anemic. That can happen when you’re pushing fourteen hours a day and not getting enough sleep.”

Storm squirmed. She knew it was only a matter of time before he put all the pieces together.

“You should get a checkup when we get back,” he continued.

She nodded dumbly, still unable to believe what she instinctively knew was true. It felt right…and good. She stared out the cockpit window, lost in thought. How many times had she wanted a child and had Jack said no? Perhaps that had placed an irreparable strain on their marriage. She had wanted at least two children, and he had wanted to wait until their air school was on a solid footing.

Storm rested her chin on her hand, shaking her head. To Jack’s way of thinking, the air school would never be on a solid enough footing. Had he been frightened of taking on the responsibility of raising children? Yes, she admitted, he could barely deal with people his own age, much less older or younger. In some ways, he had never grown up.

A cloak of worry descended over her. How would Jim react to the news? He’d proposed once, but would he be willing to assume responsibility for both a wife and a child? And if he did marry her, would it be because he loved her or because of the baby she carried? She glanced out the starboard window and realized it was beginning to snow. Their visibility had narrowed considerably, and Storm automatically switched on the deicing equipment, which would keep the wings free of ice.

Jim’s hand rested lightly on her thigh, and she turned, studying his handsome face. “This weather stirs up a lot of bad memories for me,” he began quietly. “About looking for Heather and the way we were hampered by poor visibility and the drop in temperature. We almost lost two other planes because the deicing equipment just couldn’t stand up to the severity of the storm.” He shook his head. “I’ve got a lot of adjusting to do, Storm.”

“In what way?” she asked.

“Getting used to the idea that you’ll be flying even though I may not be with you. In my head I realize my fears are groundless. But in my heart it feels like someone has taken a wrench and twisted it every time I think about your ending up like Heather.”

“I love you for trying to understand my need to fly,” she said softly.

He brightened, caressing her cheek. “I like hearing those three words from you.”

She looked at him questioningly. “That I love you?”

“Yes. I see it in your eyes and I feel it in the way you touch me, but it’s nice to hear it, too.”

Storm smiled and kissed the palm of his hand. “I thought you knew.”

“I don’t take anything for granted, honey. Not since I lost Heather and our child. I’ll be telling you ten times a day until you get sick of hearing it.”

She leaned over, her lips brushing his cheek. “Never, darling. I’ll never get tired of hearing it,” she whispered huskily. Just then, the radio switched on, the sounds faint and indistinct, the crackle of static making the message indecipherable. Storm settled back in her seat, her hand still on Jim’s broad shoulder. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he altered the radio reception band.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know….” he replied, pressing the headset against his ear. He picked up the microphone. “This is delta 552 niner. Please repeat the message.”

He motioned her to put on her headset. “See if you can pick up their call.”

The static was getting worse, and Storm barely caught the words, “Danziger,” “engines” and “sab—” She gave Jim a questioning look and shrugged her shoulders.

“Damn,” he growled, and tried to call the base station at Anchorage once again.

Suddenly, without warning, an explosion ripped away the cover on the starboard engine. Storm was thrown forward, blackness rimming the edge of her vision. She cried out and gasped for breath, suddenly unable to draw enough oxygen into her lungs. Her ears popped and pain ripped through her head. Darkness kept pulling her down into a cottony world of muted sounds. She was being tossed helplessly by a savage force, buffeted and jerked about the cabin.

Cold. Bone-chilling cold was numbing her fingers and hands. She gasped repeatedly for breath.

“Storm!”

She tried to respond but she couldn’t get enough air, and she was freezing—yet warmth seemed to flow down across her face.

“Storm! Can you hear me? Wake up!”

I am awake, I am, she thought disjointedly, feeling as if her arms were not connected to the rest of her bruised, aching body. Vaguely, she heard Jim calling her again and she shook her head, trying to clear her vision. Moving her fingers across her face, she discovered to her horror that they were covered with blood. The sight shocked her into action. She raised her head slowly and saw Jim’s grim expression.

“Storm!” he yelled. “Radio a mayday. Do you hear me! Now!”

The Crusader heeled sluggishly to a more even keel as Jim wrestled with the controls. Storm reached shakily for the radio, haltingly calling in a mayday and listing their GPS position. The aircraft yawed left, and she watched as Jim worked the rudder to keep them stabilized and in the air.

They were below ten thousand feet now, and still she was gasping for breath. It was so cold. Again she called mayday and gave their GPS position. Every plane was outfitted with reliable instruments to show their location, too.

She had no time to think, only to react. Gray clouds enveloped them. They were flying blindly. Her head thudded painfully and she stared with terror as she noticed a giant crack in the wing. It was growing wider!

“Storm, tighten your harness,” Jim commanded. “Hurry up. I can’t keep the plane on an even keel much longer.”

She fumbled with the straps, tightening them until they bit deeply into her shoulders and hips. “Where are we, Jim?”

“Somewhere north of the Alaska Range.” He glanced at her, his face tense. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m cold. When are we going to break out of this?” she asked, her voice unnaturally high.

“Did you get an acknowledgment from Anchorage?”

“I—I don’t know. The static…Jim…” She halted. “The crack in the wing. My God, it’s growing. Every air pocket we hit is opening it up more and more.”

He nodded, his lips thinning as he pushed the air brakes hard. With only one engine operating, the plane pulled to one side. “Keep calling. It’s our only chance.”

The plane continued to fall toward earth as Storm repeated the emergency call over and over again, wondering if they would survive the landing. Suddenly, she cried out in alarm as pieces of metal plating were torn off the damaged wing. The Crusader dipped, nosing into a tailspin.

Then they were out of the clouds, heading rapidly toward a white landscape punctuated with angular rock formations and upthrusting evergreens. There was no place to land!

“Help me!” Jim cried.

Storm wrenched back on the yoke, perspiration soaking her as she struggled to bring the plane’s nose back up. The wounded Crusader responded sluggishly.

“I’ve got it now,” Jim called.

“We’d better get down,” she gasped. “That wing is going to go at any moment.”

They were skimming the trees, barely three hundred feet above the rocky terrain. “Storm, get into crash position.”