Untamed Desire (2 page)

She managed a sour grin, and found herself responding to his harsh features despite herself; he was devastatingly handsome. “Of course not,” she answered drily. “But somehow this incident points up the need for a good pilot and medic.”

Jim’s nostrils flared, and he turned his attention back to flying. Storm enjoyed watching him, finding his nearness disturbing and exciting as well as abrasive.

“How many cardiac cases have you handled?” he demanded.

“Well over fifty.”

If he was impressed, he didn’t show it. “Go back in the cabin and get that portable stretcher set up, then transfer any equipment I’ll need to the right-hand drawer so I can get to it in a hurry if I have to.” His gray eyes bored into her. “Can you identify the different drugs to use?”

Storm colored briefly. “Listen, the only thing I can’t do is push IVs, so stop treating me like a ten-year-old.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze softened slightly. “Okay,” he agreed, “but if you have any questions, ask.”

Storm unsnapped her seat belt, some of her anger evaporating. “Don’t worry—” she grumbled, moving carefully away from the cockpit “—you’ll be the first to know if I have questions.”

“I’m sure I will,” he returned in an equally bland tone.

She performed the work efficiently, making sure every item Jim might need was available. There was an AED, Automatic External Defibrillator, which she knew how to use. Storm marveled at the compactness of the air ambulance and the array of equipment and supplies tucked into every conceivable space, yet all within arm’s reach.

“Hang on, Reynolds,” Jim hollered back through the door. “We’re in for some CAT.”

Storm muttered a curse under her breath. It wasn’t at the CAT or clear air turbulence; it was because he’d called her Reynolds. How rude. “And he’s managed to insult me….”

“What?”

Storm inhaled sharply, realizing she’d spoken aloud. “Oh…nothing…just grousing.”

“Well, stop griping and get up here. Now.”

Storm pushed stray tendrils of hair away from her cheek and clambered back into the cockpit. The Beaver suddenly dropped, as if someone had pulled it straight down. Storm gripped the back of the pilot’s seat, her knuckles whitening as the plane continued to fall. Then, just as suddenly, it hit the bottom of the turbulence and steadied out. Storm struck her left shoulder on the back of the door panel and, biting back a moan of pain, quickly slipped into her seat and buckled up tightly.

Jim shot her a quick look. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She wanted to rub her shoulder but refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing she’d bruised it. If she wanted to keep this job, she’d have to show him she could take anything. The ache intensified.

The Beaver jumped again, this time flinging upward at a dizzying rate. The muscles of Jim’s forearms hardened beneath the green uniform as he fought to control the plane. Storm held her breath, watching the altimeter add a thousand feet within seconds. Unconsciously, she grabbed a loose clipboard, clutching it to her stomach to keep it from flying around the cabin and possibly injuring them. It seemed an eternity before the turbulence ceased and Jim regained control.

Storm let out an exasperated sigh. “Does this happen often?”

“In the spring and fall. Most of the storms that move across the mainland are spawned out at sea. As they intensify off the coast of Alaska, we get some nasty turbulence.” He frowned, nudging the plane in a more southerly direction. “I’m just worried about transporting Johnson back. That kind of rough ride is for acrobats, not cardiac patients.”

Storm nodded in agreement, detecting a thaw in his tone, a degree of warmth and concern that made her relax for the first time. “I was beginning to think you didn’t care about anything.”

Jim’s head snapped around, and he glared at her. “What’s that crack mean?”

Her stomach knotted, and she stiffened under his withering glare. “Up until this moment,” she answered stubbornly, “you acted like some sort of unfeeling automaton, that’s all.”

His eyes darkened, and she thought she detected laughter in them. “Indeed? Well, Reynolds, that tactless comment would get you in a hell of a lot of trouble if you were one of our pilots.”

“Why?”

“It’s not welcome, that’s why.”

It was her turn to glare. “Can’t stand a little truth from a woman, Talbot?”

He smiled, which irritated her even more. “To tell you the truth, I think it rather refreshing.”

He regarded her silently, his gray eyes almost pewter-colored. Storm sensed his change of mood and her heart began beating rapidly. She looked away, heat stealing into her face.

“You’re a damn good-looking woman,” he said huskily. “If you stay up here in Alaska, you’ll have your pick of men.”

Her eyes snapped blue fire, and she rounded on him. “Is that why you think I came? To get a man? I just got rid of one a year ago, and I don’t need another!”

Jim trimmed the nose downward slightly, his hand resting on the small wheel on the deck between their seats. “If you’d been mine, I wouldn’t have let you go, no matter how much of a spitfire you were.”

Storm wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I put my Irish temper to good use when I have to. And don’t worry, I didn’t have to fight my way out of the marriage.”

A slight frown wrinkled his brow, and his brittle smile softened slightly as he continued to watch her expressive features. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he returned gruffly. “You’re untamed, like this wilderness. You need a support to bring out the best in you, that’s all.”

She managed a choking laugh. “Me? Why—” she sputtered “—you’ve got to be the most obnoxious man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

“See what I mean? Untamed. I’ll bet your feisty temper has got you in plenty of hot water in the past.”

“Bet me.”

“No marks on your flight logs from instructors?” he teased.

“Not one. I only give people trouble if they dish it out, Talbot. I don’t like to fight, but I’m not going to be run over, either. Especially not by a man like you.”

Jim banked the Beaver to the right and sunlight danced off the wing tip as they began a fast descent from eight thousand feet. “Sounds like you got handed a pretty raw deal, Reynolds.”

Storm’s heart turned over in response. She couldn’t keep the hurt out of her husky voice. “You’re not much better. I’ve seen men who don’t like career women before. I’ll bet somewhere down the line some female really got her hooks into you, and you’ve hated women ever since.”

Jim smiled grimly. “I’m the last man to hate women. I like them too much, especially women with spirit.” He allowed his gaze to rove across her face. “You see, you’ve jumped to conclusions and are wrong, but let’s call it even. And—” he made a point of looking into her startled blue eyes “—when we’re on the ground, we act like professionals. Our concern is for the patient. Let’s keep our personal differences out of it, shall we?”

Again anger singed the corners of her control. “Don’t worry. I’m cool, calm and collected in any emergency. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

A small grass strip appeared miraculously out of the continuous green horizon. “Are you calm in every situation?” he quizzed softly.

Storm was caught off guard by the sudden vibrancy in his voice. She swallowed hard, blinking at him. “Of course….”

Jim grinned, as if laughing at a private joke, and dropped the flaps on the airplane. “I wonder,” was all he said as they landed on the uneven terrain.

THE BEAVER BUMPED
and rolled along like a gawky fledging, using up most of the strip. Storm saw a small group of tents just within the tree line to their left. Several men in hunting gear stood waiting as Jim moved the plane closer.

He switched off the engine, which shuddered into silence. Unstrapping his seat belt, he got out of the cockpit first, picking up a black medical bag and pushing open the rear hatch door before stepping out. Storm followed quickly, jumping off the edge to the ground. As she hurried to catch up with Jim, she couldn’t help but notice the power that seemed coiled within him as he walked. Each stride was fluid, hispowerful, well-muscled body moving with easy grace.

He was like a hunter. Her imagination conjured up pictures of the Alaskan timber wolf stalking his prey.

Storm was nearly running to keep up with his steady gait, when suddenly he seemed aware of her presence and slowed his step. Storm looked up, flashing a small smile of thanks. To her utter surprise, he grinned back briefly with no trace of his former animosity, only to resume once more the implacable mask he seemed to wear to cover his true feelings.

“Mr. Talbot, glad you could make it,” said a burly hunter.

Jim stopped and nodded. “Where’s Mr. Johnson?”

The hunter pointed toward the camp. “In his tent. He’s resting quietly right now.”

“Okay, let’s go see him.”

Jim and Storm entered the tent and she halted, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Jim set the case down and leaned over Johnson, who was lying on a cot, waxen and perspiring heavily.

“How are you doing, Ray?”

Their patient, about forty-five, grunted heavily. “Fine, fine…just got a little pain is all. You the paramedic?”

“That’s right. Jim Talbot’s the name. My assistant is Storm Reynolds.” He turned to Storm. “Get the blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope,” he ordered.

Storm reacted calmly, secretly amazed at the difference between the Jim Talbot in the office and the one here in the field. Here he was friendly, smiling, bantering in a relaxed manner with Johnson as he opened the hunter’s collar and rolled up his shirtsleeve. Johnson looked relieved as Jim began to work on him.

As Storm leaned over to give Jim the cuff, her breast brushed against his shoulder. She inhaled sharply at the contact; her skin tingled from the touch of his hard muscles. He glanced up sharply over his shoulder at her, and she lowered her gaze in confusion.

Why on earth was she reacting like this? Her finely arched brows pulled together in a frown. Since divorcing Jack, she had concentrated on making enough money to pay the bills and keep food on the table. Men had made passes at her, but she’d been intent on finding a job that paid a good wage and made use of her flying ability. The thought of being physically intimate with a man had simply not entered her mind. Not until now. She was amazed at the thrill Jim Talbot gave her.

“Stethoscope,” Jim said.

She found herself studying his profile as he placed the stethoscope to Johnson’s chest. He had a lean face, with gray eyes that were hawklike in their intensity, a generous mouth, and an aquiline nose with flaring nostrils. Featherlike laugh lines crinkled around his eyes, contrasting them with his decidedly masculine features. Storm liked his eyes and watched them widen with concern as Johnson heaved a long, painful breath. She found herself holding her breath as Jim moved the stethoscope from Johnson’s chest to his back, listening intently.

Storm felt wrapped in an invisible warmth, as if in a blanket, as she recognized another, more important side of Jim Talbot. She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that if she proved worthy, he would accept her. He would let her stay on with Bradford Outfitters. He had to.

Jim straightened and turned to her, stuffing the stethoscope into the pocket of his coveralls. His hand on her shoulder, he guided her to the front of the tent. Her flesh prickled at his touch and she tried to throttle the dizzying current racing through her. “Listen,” Jim said, lowering his voice, “he’s in serious condition. Watch him closely, talk to him and keep him relaxed. I’m going to get the stretcher and the portable oxygen bottle.” He looked down at her, searching her face. “Are you all right? You look a little shaken.”

Storm pulled away. “I’m fine,” she said, slightly breathless. She moved quickly back to Johnson, unsure why she was feeling so heady.

By the time Jim returned, Storm had regained control of her emotions. His gaze shot to Johnson first and then to her, seeming to embrace them both with his concern. He was a paramedic, Storm reminded herself, and had been taught to have a good bedside manner with both patients and coworkers. He’s been schooled to depict an ease he didn’t necessarily feel, something he was evidently very good at. Maybe too good.

Storm’s hand rested on Johnson’s shoulder in an instinctive gesture of comfort. She forced a small smile to her lips as Jim took the hunter’s blood pressure once more.

“Hey,” Johnson wheezed, “I gotta tell you something, Mr. Talbot. I’ve been coming up here hunting for the past three years, and this one’s an improvement over the usual pilots who fly us in here.”

Jim looked up, smiling. “We figured you hunters would behave a lot better if a beautiful woman was around.”

Ray patted Storm’s hand confidentially. “You’ve got a pretty name, Storm. I bet you got a temper to match that red hair and all…” He grinned weakly, drawing in a short breath.

Jim motioned to Storm to move back as he slid his arm beneath Johnson’s neck. “She’s a hellion when she loses her temper, Ray. So let’s keep the lady happy. Storm, on the count of three, let’s lift him onto the stretcher.”

Storm felt a warm glow flow through her. The low, husky tone of Jim’s voice was tinged with concern. She was a part of the team—if only briefly. She was surprised to realize something else: she liked working with Jim Talbot. He was a pro in every way.

Once they had settled Ray aboard the plane, Jim signaled one of the hunters to shut the door.

“Reynolds,” he ordered, looking up at Storm as she headed toward the cockpit, “fly us back.” He gave her the heading and the radio frequencies, and she nodded.

Storm settled into the pilot’s seat, pleased with the unexpected opportunity to fly, and to show Jim Talbot she knew what she was doing. If Johnson hadn’t been so ill, Jim would have left her to babysit him back in the back cabin.

She made a point of noticing where the dips and holes in the strip were, so that after she made the turn at the end of the runway, she could avoid most of them on takeoff. In a matter of moments they were airborne, the throb of the engine sounding like a song to her. Working back the throttles, she set the nose on a gentle climb to eight thousand feet and headed back toward Anchorage.

It was dark by the time she landed at the airport. Following tower instructions, she eased the bush plane up to a special gate where an ambulance with blinking red lights was waiting for them. After shutting down the engines, Storm was busy giving the cockpit a final check as Jim helped transport Johnson off the plane.

The instrument panel shed a green glow that lit the cabin as Storm ran through the flight checklist. Without warning, a hand closed over her right shoulder and she jumped, giving a sharp gasp.

“Relax,” Jim growled, sliding into the copilot’s seat.

Storm took a deep breath, resting the clipboard in her lap. “You scared me,” she whispered, her hand on her breast.

“You? Scared?” he taunted.

Storm opened her mouth, ready to deliver an acid retort when the tired lines at his eyes and mouth made her stop. His mouth was stretched into a crooked smile that faded quickly.

Distracted, she returned to her duties, determined not to be bothered by his presence. “I was merely concentrating on my task,” she said.

The silence seemed to grow in the cabin, and she became more uncomfortable as the seconds passed. Each check of the pen became darker and more intense on the list, until finally Jim said, “I’ll keep you on at Bradford’s only until you can break the lease on your apartment, Reynolds.” He rose and then hunched over the pilot’s seat where she sat. “Do you understand?”

She lifted her chin, meeting his icy gaze straight on. “Only too well,” she replied. Her voice was trembling but she added, “I won’t let you get away with this.”

Jim smiled tiredly. “There’s a meeting of all pilots and substitutes at 8:00 a.m. Monday morning. Be there. On time.”

As he left the plane, Storm dropped the clipboard into the other seat, her brow creased with worry. He hadn’t even said: “You did a good job” or “You did well, considering you’ve never flown in the dark around here.” Storm let out an exasperated sigh. “That man wouldn’t give a drink of water to a dying woman,” she growled, scooping up the pen to complete the post-flight check. Not so, her heart whispered back. Hadn’t there been a slight softening of his voice between their first argument and now? Yes, a very decided moderation, and, if her fuzzy, exhausted mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, he was looking at her differently now, too. Storm chewed on her lower lip, flipped off the instrument-panel lights and slowly made her way outside.

She couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for Jim Talbot. Her body told her that much, even if they argued every time they opened their mouths to speak.

“Well, Reynolds,” she muttered, closing the hatch and walking toward her car in the parking lot, “you’d better learn to live with his prejudice until you can crack the distrust he has of women in general. It’s up to you to make headway in male-dominated territory.”

Suddenly, Storm didn’t want to fight any more battles. She was tired of competing against men and having to be twice as good at everything in order to win their grudging acceptance. All she wanted was to fly, to do her job without some man’s exerting unfair pressure on her just because she was a woman. And on Monday she would begin her next battle.

An icy rain drizzled from the churning September sky as Storm walked quickly to the glass doors of Bradford Outfitters. In a last-minute decision, she had let her shoulder-length, copper-colored hair fall into a natural pageboy. She was tired of tying it back in an attempt to look less feminine. Wispy bangs fell across her forehead, accenting her dark blue eyes and oval face. She wore chocolate-colored wool slacks because the temperature was hovering near freezing. Beneath her jacket was a beige, long-sleeved blouse with a delicate bow at the neck.

As she hurried inside, she saw a knot of men in the pilots’ room. Stella looked up with a friendly smile. “Hi, honey. You’re early!”

Storm shrugged off her coat and hung it with all the others on the wall near Stella’s desk. “Is there any other way to be around here?” she asked the secretary.

Stella laughed. “You’re smart. But I knew that the minute you came for the job interview.”

“Listen, I want to thank you for helping me.”

Stella shrugged. “Ahh, that was nothing. Jim’s a really nice guy, but sometimes he lets the past color his view of things. By the way, you did great out on that flight!”

Storm gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?” she asked her, referring to what Stella had heard about the flight, but wondering, too, what she’d meant about Jim’s past.

“I heard Jim talking with Dan about it this morning,” Stella explained. She sobered momentarily. “Listen, honey, Jim isn’t in too good a mood.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Dan flatly told him you were hired, and Jim didn’t like that at all!”

Relief washed over Storm, and she rolled her eyes upward. “Thank heavens!” she whispered.

“Reynolds!”

She turned, startled. Jim Talbot’s face was darker than a thundercloud as he stood in the doorway to the pilots’ room, his hands placed belligerently on his hips.

“Can you spare a few minutes of your time?” he asked sarcastically. “The meeting is about to start.”

She gave him a sweet smile, her confidence spiraling upward in joy. Taking her clipboard, she edged past him into the room. Every pilot watched her walk in. She felt heat rising from her throat into her face as she found an empty seat in the back and quickly sat down, trying to disregard the men’s open stares.

Dan Bradford smiled genially down at her from the podium on the small stage. A map of Alaska was framed behind his thin body, and he stood waiting patiently until the noise quieted.

“Gentlemen, we have the honor of having with us Ms. Storm Reynolds, who has just been hired as our new pilot. She graciously accepted my invitation to join our ranks, and, from what Jim has said, she’s already proven her mettle by helping him with a medical emergency on Friday evening. Storm, welcome aboard.”

She swallowed nervously and inclined her head. “Thank you, Mr. Bradford.”

“Dan,” he said. “Around here we go by nicknames or first names. We don’t get formal, do we, men?”

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.