The Rescue Pilot Page 7

  “But you see others who stick it out?” Rory had asked, maybe because she wanted to strangle Hal.

  “Sure. There are good men. Just not as many as you would hope. Not when it comes to this.”

  So Hal was just an ordinary creep, no worse than most of his kind, not as good as some. But part of what maddened Rory the most was the way it had cut the heart out of Cait. No pep talks worked. No desire to get even and show her husband inspired her.

  Cait had just plain given up. Life had become a load too heavy to carry anymore. And Rory, who felt an unnatural urge to violence when it came to Cait’s husband, restrained herself because even she could see that the damage had been done and there was nothing on earth that would repair the wound.

  Except time. But Cait was dreadfully short on time now.

  Another tear leaked out from one eye, almost fiery in its warmth against the chill of her cheeks. She couldn’t afford this sorrow and weakness—she had to take care of Cait. Later, if nothing worked, would come the time to grieve. But not now, not while Cait still needed her.

  Another shiver ripped through her, and she clamped her teeth to still their chattering. It had to be warmer in the cabin.

  Before she could move, she saw a familiar shape move in the dim glow of the candlelight from the cabin, then Chase bent down near her ear.

  “I can hear you shivering. Scoot over.”

  “I should check Cait.”

  “I just looked out. Wendy’s wide awake, sitting right across from her. Look, your getting hypothermic isn’t going to help anyone.”

  She couldn’t argue the basic sense of that, so she scooted over. He’d doffed his jacket and boots, and soon she was cradled against his heat, his strength beneath the blanket. Great strength, she realized as he nestled her head on his sweatshirt-covered shoulder and pulled her close to his chest.

  The muscles she felt flexing against her were the hard, flat muscles of hard work, not the bulging carefully cultivated masterpieces some men liked. She’d quit going to co-ed gyms years ago because she had gotten tired of watching men work their pectorals and biceps as if they were the only muscles that mattered.

  Of course, when she was in the field, she saw plenty of hardworking muscle, especially on hot days, but she didn’t feel it pressed up against her, holding her. Indeed, she’d gotten to where she hardly noticed it. But this was different.

  Chase was so warm. Almost too soon, it seemed, his heat began to penetrate her, reaching deep inside, thawing her bones, easing her tension, halting the shivering. Then it filled her not only with comfort, but with a sweet yearning she had almost forgotten existed.

  She turned her head a little so she could press her eyes to his shoulder and try to stave off the tears. She didn’t cry. She wasn’t a crier by nature and hadn’t been since childhood. But now she wanted to cry, just sob her eyes out.

  She was just worn out, she told herself. It had been a hard few weeks, finding out how sick Cait was, and then trying to find a miracle for her, or at least the hope of one. Exhaustion had weakened her, that was all.

  Exhaustion and fear. Because being forced to sit here and do nothing in a crashed plane while her sister’s life was waning by the minute was almost more than she could stand. Yet every ounce of common sense argued against every emotion that demanded she do something. Doing something right now would be foolhardy.

  “You’re tensing again,” he murmured.

  So he wasn’t sleeping. Then his hands began to rub her back gently, soothingly.

  “Your sister?” he asked.

  “Every minute of every day,” she admitted.

  “Understandable. And being stuck like this has got to be a nightmare for you.”

  She couldn’t deny that, so she didn’t bother. It was a nightmare, just like the ones she had as a child when something was chasing her and she couldn’t move.

  “I can’t find a problem with the GPS,” he remarked. “I don’t see any damage, the wiring to it seems fine, so we just have to hope we’re not getting signal because of the storm.”

  “But it could be something you can’t see.”

  She gave him credit for not hesitating. She hated it when she suspected people of trying not to be totally truthful. “It could be. There was a time when anyone who was handy could fix just about anything. Then they came up with black boxes.”

  She nodded a little against his shoulder, relieved to realize that the urge to weep was fading. Maybe his hand rubbing her back had something to do with that. Or maybe it was thinking about the other problems they faced. She always felt better when she had the true measure of a situation. It always made her feel more in control, and provided an opportunity to think of solutions. She was a born problem-solver.

  “Lots of black boxes,” she admitted. “Microminiaturization—the curse of modern life.”

  “Sometimes it is.”

  “When something breaks, it is. If you can get to a store for a replacement, no problem. On the side of a mountain in a blizzard, big problem.”

  “Unfortunately. Regardless, I won’t be able to say for sure until the storm lets up. With any luck, we’ll pick up signal, the beacon will start broadcasting our position, and we’ll be airlifted out of here in a matter of hours.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then we’ll damn well start down the mountainside. I mean it, Rory.”

  “I know you do.” She didn’t doubt it. “It might be best for me to stay here with Cait if you do. I’m not sure she could survive a trip like that.”

  “No. Absolutely not. This plane is going to be invisible under the snow. There’s no guarantee if some of us start down the mountain that we’d be able to guide searchers back here quickly enough. We go together or we stay together.”

  “I’m thinking of exposure.”

  “And I’m thinking of lost time.”

  Both of which could kill Cait. The ultimate rock and a hard place. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

  “I’m sure you do. With any luck, we won’t have to make the decision either way.”

  A quiet snort escaped her. “I’m not feeling very lucky right now. Are you?”

  A couple of heartbeats passed before he answered. She knew because she could hear the quiet, steady beating of his heart, a reassuring sound. “I wasn’t at first. I mean, if I hadn’t just had this bird in for an overhaul, I wouldn’t feel quite as furious about a mechanical failure. It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “No, it most definitely shouldn’t have.”

  “But,” he said, emphasizing the word, “I’m feeling lucky anyway, because given that something went wrong and we lost our engines, it’s damn near a miracle no one was hurt.”

  “True.”

  “So tell yourself that miracles happen, Rory. And we might be entitled to more than one. Especially given that we shouldn’t be here at all.”

  Her throat tightened and she had to swallow several times before she could answer. Her voice remained a bit husky. “I hope you’re right. Are you always so upbeat?”

  “The alternative sure isn’t any help.”

  “No.” She knew he was right, but at the moment she was finding it hard to feel upbeat about Cait’s plight. That would come back as soon as she could take some action again. In the meantime, she wanted to think about something else before the black trickle of despair she felt grew into an ocean. “Was it hard flying without the engines?”

  “Not fun,” he said, still keeping his voice down. “We were slightly more aerodynamic than a boulder. Just slightly. Our remaining airspeed was all that gave me any maneuverability and the more that dropped the harder it got.”

  “But the wings have enough lift that the wind was trying to pick them up.”

  “That’s the wings. And the air has to move across them fast enough to create enough lift for an aircraft this heavy. You remember Bernoulli.”

  She did, vaguely. “My education has mostly been in rocks.”

  “Then you would have
felt right at home in the cockpit for a while there.”

  The humor surprised her, touched her and actually lifted her spirits a bit. “Until I got out my rock hammer,” she tried to joke back.

  “I was sure ready to hammer something. I just didn’t have time.”

  Finally, she said what she should have said hours ago, most especially sure it was true and she should have been grateful rather than angry as she had been initially. “Thanks for getting us down in one piece.”

  “You can thank me when we’re all safely out of here.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  He shifted a little. “What do you mean?” He actually sounded uncomfortable.

  “Whether we get out of here or not, there wouldn’t even be a question of survival if you weren’t a damn good pilot. So thanks for giving me the opportunity to worry some more.”

  “Sure. I think.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know.” Again that uncomfortable shifting. “So what’s the story with Cait? Has she been sick for long?”

  “She got nonaggressive NHL a few years back and they managed to put her into remission. The stats are actually pretty good for that.”

  “But it’s aggressive now?”

  Rory had to swallow before she could speak. Her throat was tightening up again, and she hoped he couldn’t hear it. She didn’t want to seem weak. “Yeah. Very. And since her husband left her when she got sick again, I don’t think she wants to live.”

  He swore quietly. “Well, that sure as hell complicates things, doesn’t it?”

  “A whole lot.”

  “And there’s an experimental treatment in Minnesota?”

  “Yeah. She was sinking so fast it was hard to get her in.”

  “And now this.”

  “Now this.”

  He muttered another curse. “I’m sorry, Rory.”

  “It’s not your fault. At first I was mad, sure you must have done something wrong, but from what you’ve told me, it sounds like some mechanic did something wrong. At least we’re all okay. And somehow we’ll get out of this.”

  “Because we have to.”

  She noted that he said it as if it was all the reason he needed. Just have to. Well, there’d been plenty of times in her own life when forced to take action had been all that had kept her going and moving mountains. This was just another mountain, more frightening and intimidating than most, but still just a mountain.

  “You must be scared,” he said, surprising her.

  “I am.” It was easy enough to admit. “The treatment might not work. I know that. Not at this stage. But I think it’d have a whole lot better chance if she wanted to live.”

  “Well, of course. I don’t suppose there’s any chance her husband will come to his senses?”

  “I doubt it. He moved in with one of his graduate students. I really don’t think Cait would want him back now anyway.”

  “Probably not. I wouldn’t, in her shoes. And I’ve been in her shoes, sort of.”

  The admission surprised her. “Really? You? The hunky flying ace?”

  A startled but quiet laugh escaped him. “Try living with a navy pilot. Gone six months at a stretch. Sometimes flying in dangerous parts of the world. Looks good until you have to live it. And there’s a lot of temptation around a base when your significant other is gone. Besides, I never got far enough that I felt I had an exclusive claim.”

  “I take it you’ve been on the curb more than once.”

  “More than once,” he said frankly. “Which leads me to believe I’m not easy to get along with anyway. And maybe I wasn’t back then. There’s a sort of cockiness that goes with the job, I admit.”

  “And now?”

  “If I have any cockiness left, I haven’t noticed it recently. Flying a taxi kind of puts you in your place, don’t you think?”

  “Depends on who’s hiring you.” She rolled her head a bit, surveying the glow from the cabin, trying to see his face and being rewarded with a view of his chin. “You don’t like what you’re doing now?”

  “What I like is flying. I’ve always loved it. And I’ve discovered that I don’t have to be in dogfights, or pull five Gs in a roll to enjoy it. So these days I think of myself as carrying eggs.”

  “Eggs?” she chuckled.

  “Eggs,” he repeated. “Raw eggs. And my job is to give them such a smooth ride their shells remain intact. That’s not always easy flying over the mountains.” He shifted a bit, and somehow he was holding her a little closer. “I guess it’s all a matter of attitude.”

  She nodded against his shoulder, agreeing. Warmth had permeated every corner of her body, even her toes, and now that the cold was no longer a threat she was noticing other things, things she hadn’t paid attention to in a long time now.

  Like how good a man could smell—especially this one. She felt guilty for letting herself grow aware of him. For God’s sake, Cait was in the cabin, so sick… Guilt started to rise in a nauseating wave. Then she realized something. Right now she couldn’t do even the least thing for Cait. Nothing. Wendy was sitting out there, a trained and experienced nurse. Better care, no doubt, than she herself could provide.

  So what was wrong with letting go for just a few minutes? Nothing. Maybe she needed it for her sanity after the last few weeks, a few minutes of escape into fantasy.

  Because it was pure fantasy. When they got out of here, she’d be headed to Minnesota and would never see this man again.

  That thought made it even more tempting to indulge the images that had begun to dance around the edges of her mind. He continued to rub her back, but she imagined her sweater vanished. She knew how his palm felt already, warm and dry, and it was easy to imagine it running up and down her back, skin on skin.

  She felt her nipples pebble with hunger, and as they did so, a shaft of longing speared straight to her loins. Wow. It seemed like forever since she had responded to nothing but a few stray thoughts. Given her job, she’d carved sex right out of her life. She couldn’t afford to have her subordinates gossiping and certainly not the roughnecks she worked with. Becoming asexual had seemed like a necessary protective mechanism.

  But she didn’t need that protection right now, and long-buried needs struggled within her for recognition.

  He smelled good. He felt good against her. Knowing absolutely nothing could happen right now made her feel safe, too. With eyes closed, her senses filled with him, she let the fantasy train roll out of the station.

  She hovered on the cusp of anticipation, caught on a needlepoint of longing as she imagined him transgressing beyond the gentle backrub. What if he slipped his hand around and cupped her breast? An electric shock zapped through her at the mere idea of how it would feel to have him touch her there, even through layers of clothing. Between her legs, a weight grew, heavy and hungry, and began to throb damply.

  So far so fast, she thought with amazement. One little wisp of fantasy and she was as ready as she had ever been in her life. She bit her lower lip, tensing inwardly against the yearning that might cause her to make a betraying move. Thank goodness he couldn’t read her mind. That privacy was precious, and she didn’t want to reveal her thoughts by slipping and moving in some revealing way.

  But oh, she wished she could. Her heart sped a bit and she bit her lip harder. If only this were the time and place, she’d gladly indulge in a quick, meaningless mating just to satisfy the hunger and carry a memory of it with her.

  Memories served her well when she was far from home, and a stash of them that involved having hot, impatient sex with Chase seemed worth putting in her mental photo album.

  It would be so easy. All she had to do was lean a little closer, roll just enough to throw her leg over his, and the invitation would be unmistakable.

  Then, a few minor adjustments of clothing. They wouldn’t even need to disrobe completely. Quick, hot…and frankly more like something you’d get on a street corner in many of the towns she’d seen.

&nbs
p; A sigh almost slipped out of her as the fantasy popped, leaving her feeling disappointed and frustrated. That wasn’t her—rough and ready, mating with a stranger. What was wrong with her? But that’s exactly the urge he’d awakened in her, however briefly.

  Stress, she told herself. Too much stress and worry. She was losing it.

  Then he astonished her by the simple expedient of stroking her hair back from her forehead. She kept her hair relatively short because washing it wasn’t easy in some of the places she worked, and it had been a long time since anyone had seemed interested in running their fingers through it.

  But he did, combing the soft curls with his fingers, then once again slowly running his hand down her neck and her back. A shiver trickled through her, and it was not the cold.

  “Sleep,” he whispered. “Wendy will call you if Cait needs you. But you need to sleep.”

  So did he, she thought. Then, unconsciously, she snuggled closer, letting him make her feel safe and wanted, illusion though it was, and this time when she closed her eyes, no tears fell and sleep came quietly.

  Chapter 5

  “Rory?”

  She woke from a sleep so dreamless and deep that she almost felt drugged. Chase was still holding her, but it was his voice that had called to her.

  “Mmm?” Her eyelids felt heavier than lead.

  “Cait’s asking for you.”

  All of a sudden, the lead vanished from her eyes and the sleep from her body. She sat up so fast she almost banged her head on the curving fuselage beside her.

  “Whoa,” Chase said. “Don’t hurt yourself. That’s a complication none of us needs.”

  Even as he spoke, though, he was sliding out of the bed, pulling the covers back so she could climb out. At once she noted how chilly the air felt after the warm cocoon Chase had made for her. No time for that now.

  Except Chase figured there was time. “Get your boots on,” he said. “You can’t afford to get cold.”