Authors: Lindsay McKenna
“Breakfast on the run. Go on, one sack’s yours.”
Molly stared at Cam as he sat down opposite her. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Sure, I did. My damsel was in distress.” He shoved a sack toward her. “Eat,” he ordered more sternly.
His damsel.
Molly felt heat climbing up her neck into her face. She reached for the bag. “How did you know I wouldn’t get myself breakfast at home this morning?”
“Because,” Cam drawled, leaning back in his chair and opening his sack, “you went home last night, took a bath, dragged yourself to bed and then forgot to set your alarm and overslept.”
The food tasted delicious, and after having had little appetite for the past week, Molly discovered she was hungry. Cam looked darkly handsome, as always. She never ceased to be amazed at discovering some small, wonderful nuance about him. Today he was jovial and incredibly sensitive. It lifted her spirits.
“It’s disconcerting for someone to know me that well.”
“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.”
Molly held his smiling eyes. “I’ve always known that,” she told him seriously. “What about my test?”
“It’s fine. Perfect.” Cam grinned. “It’s certainly going to put Martin through his flying-skill paces, but it’s a sound program. Congratulations. Vic will be pleased with the complexity of it.”
Molly sat back, relief sheeting through her. “Thank goodness!”
“Eat! You’re too skinny, Molly. I should have paid more attention to you the past two months. You’ve been dropping weight, slow but sure.”
“I’ll be okay,” she assured him, finishing off the breakfast sandwich and picking up the raspberry Danish. “This was so nice of you. You thought of everything. Even dessert.”
How like Molly to always acknowledge what others did for her, Cam reflected. “It’s a little thing,” he said.
“An important little thing. I wouldn’t have wanted to fly on an empty stomach this morning.”
Lately, Cam had found himself wanting to do much more for Molly. “A little thing for a special lady.” He wanted to do more than meet her once a week at the beach, where they walked slowly down the sandy expanse with Miracle at their side. He’d discovered much about her that way. Now Cam was hungry to explore her on other, more intimate levels. He sighed. It was impossible. The school would frown on it. Molly’s focus shouldn’t be diverted from her training, either. God knew, she had her hands full waging battles on two different fronts: one with TPS, the other with that rabid, overfocused family of hers.
Molly finished off the breakfast and sat back to enjoy her coffee. “Are my dark circles still showing this morning?” she asked with a laugh.
Cam shook his head. “Yes, but not as badly. Everyone gets them the last three months at TPS.”
“I think everyone ought to get a Purple Heart just for surviving the six months,” Molly groused good-naturedly, sipping the strong, black coffee.
Cam nodded. “No argument from me. When I went through it four years ago, I thought the same thing. After graduating, I tested jets for a year. Then they assigned me to instruct.” He grimaced. “I’d rather have tested, but the head honchos said they needed my brilliant instructing services.”
“You’re a wonderful teacher,” Molly said fervently. “Look what you’ve taught me about standing up for myself.”
With a smile, Cam eased forward and tossed his sack into the wastebasket. “You’ve been a joy to work with, Molly. And to be honest, sooner or later you’d have done the very same things I’ve taught you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do.” She looked exquisite with her blond hair wrapped in a neat chignon at the top of her head, wispy tendrils framing her temples, her thick bangs brushing her brows. “Pygmalion and Galatea we’re not.”
“Well,” Molly insisted stubbornly, “whatever we share is good and positive.”
Cam nodded, thinking how much more he wanted to share with Molly. He glanced at his watch. It was 0630. “As much as I’d like to continue our breakfast chat, I think we ought to get to work.” He handed her the flight-program printout and she placed it in her briefcase.
“Right,” Molly said, understanding exactly what Cam meant. If students or other instructors saw them together like this, it could mean problems. She rose and picked up her briefcase. Cam went to the door with her.
“Thanks again,” she whispered, meaning it.
Fighting the urge to lean over and kiss her lovely lips, Cam nodded. “I always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.”
She smiled warmly. “It’s nice to be called a damsel. Maggie would hate it. Dana would turn up her nose and wrinkle it, but I’m glad someone in this hard climate of steel and machines sees me as a woman, not a computer on two legs.”
With a laugh, Cam opened the door. “Any man who doesn’t see you as a woman is crazy.”
As she walked out into the empty, quiet hall, Molly commented, “There are a lot of crazy men at TPS, then. I’ll see you later.” Heading for the computer room, where all the flight engineers would meet to discuss their programs with their instructors before flying, Molly felt buoyed. What would she have done without Cam’s help? Still, her hands were damp from nervousness. Martin was going to be offensive and aggressive—the two things she disliked most in men. The debriefs would take place this afternoon. What would happen?
* * *
Cam was still in his G-suit, with no time to change before the debrief session. He’d just finished flying chase plane to Dalton’s spin-test flight. Hurrying down the hall, he carried the duffel bag containing his helmet and oxygen mask in his left hand. How had Molly done? Anytime a student flew the spin-test flight, a chase plane was needed. Part of the student’s grade hinged on his observation.
Dalton caught up with him. The Missourian grinned broadly. “Hell of a test, Captain.”
“You did well,” Cam praised. He liked Dalton. The man had a good sense of balance with an aircraft. Lee Bard, the flight engineer who had flown with him, followed a few steps behind. Cam looked over at his shoulder at the short engineer.
“How are you doing?”
Bard grimaced. “Dalton called them on the money, but my stomach’s still rolling up there with those spins.”
All three men laughed as they walked through the open door to debrief. Cam’s gaze immediately went to the other end of the table where Molly sat. Martin sat as far away from her as he could, at the opposite end of the long, oval table. Neither of them looked very happy.
“Sorry we’re late,” Cam apologized to his fellow instructors. He sat down and got out his notebook and pen. Glancing over at Vic Norton, who sat to his right, Cam nodded.
“Go ahead, Vic, I’ll catch up.”
Cam had to wait two hours before Molly and Martin’s flight came up for examination, the last one of the day. He watched Martin tense, his face tight with anger.
“Molly, what do you have for us?” Vic asked, getting ready to make notes on his evaluation sheet.
She sat up and opened her knee board with all the flight tests on it. “We were to do a series of inside loops, flying the F-14 upside down at exactly fifteen thousand feet for one-half mile and then—”
“Everyone here knows you don’t fly an F-14 upside down for that long,” Martin growled.
Cam tensed. Martin had no right to butt in on Molly’s debrief. His glance moved to Vic, who had shifted his attention to Martin.
“Lieutenant Martin, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my evaluation,” Molly said. “Now, Mr. Norton, as I was saying…”
Inwardly Cam smiled, silently cheering Molly on. She’d quickly and firmly taken back control of the situation. Martin glared at her, his fist clenched on the table. Vic’s attention moved back to her.
“By flight parameters, the F-14 cannot go on indefinitely in an upside-down flight position because gravity interferes with flow of fuel from the wings to the engines. If the F-14 isn’t brought out of the position in time, one or both engines could stall.”
“No kidding,” Martin said tightly. He jabbed a finger at Molly. “You deliberately took the worst flight characteristic of the F-14!”
Coolly, Molly stared Martin down. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, her hands wet with sweat. Trying to keep her voice unruffled, she continued, “Nevertheless, the F-14, during times of war, will have to fly upside down occasionally, if for no other reason than to defend itself.” She returned her attention to Vic. “Mr. Norton, I did set up a test to put the F-14 at the edge of its flight envelope. But every time we went into that position, Mr. Martin would
not
hold it as long as I asked.”
“That’s because we were nearing a stall!” Martin shouted.
Cam scowled. “Mr. Martin, we’re all adults in here. Shouting’s not necessary.”
Martin tightened his mouth and sat back, a pout on his lips.
“Molly, how long did you want him to hold the position?” Vic asked, pen poised.
“Fifteen, twenty and twenty-five seconds. He did fine on the fifteen-second test. But on the other two, he refused to meet the criteria.”
Nostrils flaring, Martin rounded on Vic Norton. “I can’t believe you’d approve an idiotic test like this! I’ve been flying Tomcats for longer than she’s been in the Navy, and my flight record is impeccable! I’ve never had an accident or even a near miss! This is picky stuff. I consider her test invalid! She’s asking the impossible of the plane and the pilot. Have you ever flown upside down in that jet for that amount of time, Mr. Norton?”
“Er, no.”
“You ought to try it!” Martin raged. “Dammit, I’m sweating out the stall-warning buzzer screaming in my ears while she’s back there coolly counting off the seconds. There’s no way I’m gonna keep that jet on its back for that amount of time!” Martin jabbed his finger at Norton’s evaluation form. “She ought to get a low score for setting up this kind of lousy test. It proves nothing! Nothing!”
“I want the video reviewed,” Molly said tightly, getting Norton’s attention.
“It isn’t going to show a thing!” Martin retorted.
“Mr. Norton, I want the video viewed,” Molly repeated stubbornly. To her chagrin, Martin seemed to be persuading Vic Norton to his side of the argument. How could she get him to understand that her test
was
valid?
“Okay,” Vic consented, doubt in his voice. “But I don’t think it will show much.”
With a sinking feeling, Molly went and slipped the videotape into the machine. The television set was at the correct angle for everyone in the room to view it. Her heart dropped when Vic didn’t even bother to get up and come closer. Doggedly, Molly read off the parameters of the test. Martin had been right: the video wasn’t going to confirm anything conclusive.
Vic shrugged after the video was completed.
“The air was real rough up there, too,” Martin griped. “She chose an altitude with a lot of turbulence. It was hell keeping that plane on a steady altitude.”
“It wasn’t that rough, Mr. Martin,” Molly shot back as she sat back down. She saw the indecision on Vic’s face. If he gave her a poor grade… Desperation wound in her with real fear.
“Well, it sounds like a combination of factors up there today,” Vic said finally, scribbling out a grade. He handed it to Molly.
Her throat constricted: a seventy-eight percent. Anger, hot and galvanizing, moved through her. She glared at Martin, who sat back with a sated look on his face. As she signed her name and handed the notebook back to Vic, a sense of helplessness overwhelmed her. She’d fought back intelligently. Her flight program had been good. Why hadn’t she been able to convince Vic of its merits?
As debrief broke up and everyone headed for home, Molly was one of the first to leave. She knew Cam had seen her grade because he’d been sitting next to Vic. Angry and frustrated, she hurried out of the building and drove home—home to wait for the dreaded phone call from her father and brother.
Chapter Ten
M
olly had been home exactly five minutes when her doorbell rang. In the bedroom, ready to change out of her flight suit, she hesitated. Who could it be? Too filled with misery to venture a guess, Molly hurried into the hallway and crossed the living room. She opened the door.
“Father!”
Jason frowned. He stood with a briefcase in hand. “May I come in?”
Openmouthed, Molly stepped aside. “Sure…” Her mind spun. “What are you doing here?”
Moving into the living room and dropping his luggage beside the sofa, Jason turned to his daughter. “I felt it was time we talked, Molly. Come in and sit down. You look like hell. What’s going on?”
Stunned by her father’s unexpected appearance, Molly took precious seconds to respond to his command. She saw the flat, gray look in his eyes. Never had her heart beat harder. In anguish, she slowly entered the living room.
“I’m just tired, that’s all,” Molly whispered. “May I get you some dinner?”
“No. I’ve got a reservation at a hotel nearby, and I’ll eat there. Come, sit down.”
Numbly, Molly sat in the overstuffed chair opposite the sofa, the black Oriental coffee table between them. “Is Scott all right?” Fear for her brother, whose health had been fragile since the accident, rose in her.
“Scott’s fine,” her father said. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
Molly tensed. “Is that why you flew down here?”
“Yes.” Jason drilled her with a probing look. “I can see our phone calls and letters haven’t been doing the job, Molly. Your grades aren’t good enough. You’re failing.”
Molly sat up, trying to control her uneven breathing. “Father, I’m doing the very best I can, here at TPS. You were right, it’s the toughest school in the world. And contrary to your opinion, I am
not
failing.”
“Trying isn’t good enough, and you know it. You’re number six in the standings. We both know you need to be fourth or third in order to graduate.”
“I have three months to reach that position, Father.” The words ground out of her. When she realized she was clenching her teeth, Molly was horrified.
“What was your test score today?”
Sweat popped out on her upper lip. Molly forced herself to hold his stare. “I received a seventy-eight.” There, it was out. She tensed, watching his face turn pale.