Jane Toombs - Trouble In Tourmaline

Without touching her otherwise, he bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. Every cell in her body yearned for him.

Safe with him? The words echoed in her head as she leaned into the kiss wanting more, needing more, even though she tried not to. Impossible not to relish the zing that ran bone-deep. Good grief, all this without even being in his arms. With a tremendous effort of will, she broke contact and literally fled from the apartment.

So much for being safe, she told herself as she climbed into her SUV. Clenching her teeth, she vowed to make sure that didn’t happen again. Friends was the operative word—not lovers.

David found himself staring bemusedly at the door she’d closed behind her and forced himself into action. Clean up the kitchen. Take out the trash. Stop thinking about how soft and warm her lips were and how they’d yielded to his. Don’t remember her taste or how she smells of flowers.

He shouldn’t have kissed her. Been too long without a woman, Severin, he told himself. And this one definitely isn’t a good choice for a quick affair. Very bad choice—your aunt’s associate. Which was true, no doubt about it, but he didn’t think it’d stop him from kissing her again, if the chance came.

On the other hand, she could be at loose ends, wanting no more than he wanted. Nothing even vaguely permanent. Just a test of how potent the chemistry was.

As he went into the living room to check on the kittens, he nodded. Start as friends, keep cool and see where it goes. Kneeling by the box, he stared down at Hobo and her brood of four, all fuzzy now as they nursed. The tiny one was completely black, the other three black and white. As he reached down and stroked the black one’s head with a gentle finger, Hobo mewed.

“Don’t worry, I’d never hurt her,” he murmured. How could he, when the sight of that tiny body reminded him so much of Sarah, one and a half months premature and so small she’d looked like a doll, not a baby.

That had been five—no, six—years ago. He shared custody with Iris, his ex, but hadn’t asked to have Sarah visit him since he’d left New Mexico last year. David sighed and got to his feet. Right now she was better off with her mother than him.

The next day, David pulled into Tourmaline’s small airfield with Amy, parking near where his sailplane was tied down. She got out of his pickup and walked around the aircraft. “It’s bigger than I thought it’d be,” she told him.

“That good or bad news?”

She frowned. “Good, I guess.”

He’d sensed her increasing nervousness as they’d driven to the field. “Aunt Gert’s been up with me several times,” he said in an effort to make her relax. “Grandfather, too.”

“Your grandfather?”

“No, not mine.”

“Well, he can’t be your aunt’s. She told me herself she’s seventy.”

“He’s a friend of ours who goes by that name.”

She stared at him. “You mean everyone calls him Grandfather?”

“He’s a Paiute medicine man. Grandfather is a name of respect.” David turned to greet a middle-aged man walking toward them. “Amy, this is Grant,” he said. “Our tow pilot. Grant, my friend Amy.”

Grant nodded to her. “Going up with this yahoo, are you?”

“I said I would.”

“Can’t renege on a promise, that it?” Grant chuckled. “Don’t worry, I ain’t crashed yet and neither’s he.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that ‘yet,’” Amy told him.

“Safe as in your mother’s arms. Notice I didn’t say his arms.” Grant nodded toward David, who was busy untying the sailplane. “I can recommend his flying, but the other’s up in the air.” He chuckled again before turning and walking toward a small red-and-white plane parked a ways in front of the sailplane.

“He’s going to attach the towline.” David lifted the top canopy of his plane and gestured toward the rear seat. “After you.”

Amy climbed in and closed the seat belt around her. When he was satisfied the towline was secure, David climbed into the front cockpit and fastened down the canopy.

“It’s an adventure,” Amy muttered under her breath, resisting the impulse to close her eyes as both planes began moving. When’s the last time you had anything approaching an adventure? she asked herself. She’d been living, as Grant put it, safe as in her mother’s arms, for so long she couldn’t even remember feeling adventurous.

Which reminded her David’s arms would hardly be safe. Another adventure she wasn’t ready for?

Before she realized what was happening, they were airborne. Though she could hear the drone of the tow plane’s motor drifting back to her, the noise level in the sailplane was nil. Nothing like taking off in one of the big commercial jets.

“I’ll drop the tow at about three thousand feet.” She could hear David clearly.

“How high will we go then?” she managed to ask after swallowing twice.

“As high as the thermal we find will take us. No higher than ten thousand feet, though, or we’d need oxygen.”

“How do you know where the thermals are?”

“Search and find. Watch the birds. Get lucky.”

As soon as David unhooked the towline, Grant’s plane turned away from them and disappeared from her view. Now there was no sound at all as they drifted. She decided not to ask how they were going to get back down with no motor. Glide, she supposed, feeling her fingers begin to hurt from clenching her hands together so tightly.

“Okay back there?” David asked.

“Fine.” She hoped she sounded more convinced than she felt. It wasn’t so much that she questioned his expertise. For some reason she trusted him, knowing he wouldn’t have asked her to join him unless he was sure it was safe. But the sailplane itself was new to her—how strange to be up in the air with no motor.

As if reading her thought, David said, “Think of the plane as if it was a sailboat. The boat in the water is driven by the wind in the sails, and up here our plane is driven by air currents under the wings.”

Amy examined the idea and began to relax. “I’ve done a lot of sailing in Lake Huron and around Mackinac Island,” she told him.

“Maybe you’ll have a chance to show me sometime. I’ve sailed, but I’m more a flier than a sailor.”

That just might be possible, since her brother’s father-in-law had a sailboat docked at his Lake Tahoe condo in Incline Village and Tahoe wasn’t all that far from Tourmaline. That is, if she and David managed to stay friends without going off the deep end—and she didn’t mean the pier. That kiss last night…

“Thermal coming up,” David said. “Here we go.”

She braced herself, but nothing really happened except the sailplane began to climb, rising in wide circles, reminding her of how the red-tailed hawks soared above her brother’s horse ranch in Carson Valley. She could see the peaks of the Sierras, some still snow-capped, in the distance. The lack of any noise did remind her of a sailboat, except on a boat things creaked. The plane itself didn’t make a sound.

Peaceful, and the sky, oh, so beautiful, hardly a cloud in sight. This must be how it feels to be a bird, she thought, admitting that she was actually enjoying herself.

Up and up they soared, she couldn’t believe how effortlessly. When, some time later, she realized the plane was descending, she sighed. “Does this mean we have to land?”

“The thermal’s shifting away from the field. It’s a long walk back if I don’t keep the plane fairly close to the field, so we can glide down pretty much where we went up.”

So she was right—they’d glide down. The thought didn’t bother her now. David knew what to do, just as she knew how to tack a sailboat into port.