Lindsay McKenna - Love Me Before Dawn

Shep idly sloshed the Scotch around in his glass, staring moodily at the ice cubes. He had done a great deal of thinking since kissing Tess. Most of his thoughts were centered on his disintegrating marriage. Allyson was a social climber. She lived for it. It hurt him to think that all she had seen in him when they married was a way to reach the top. But he knew she’d always dreamed of becoming a general’s wife. And God knew, he had the proper background to make him eligible in another twelve years. He took a sip of the Scotch, glancing over at Tess.

Her cheeks were tear-wet and flushed, her lashes thick and dark with tears. Instinctively, Shep knew Tess wasn’t concerned with the trappings of the material world. Hers was a world of emotional sensitivity. A world he had been craving to be a part of since he had been old enough to recognize it. And emotional sensitivity was something entirely foreign to Allyson.

“Come on, Tess. Finish your drink and I’ll take you to look at that bomber you’re building,” he said.

Tess raised her head, meeting his gray gaze. A new kind of warmth invaded her heart, soothing the ragged edges of the guilt. A tremulous smile touched her lips.

* * *

Shep escorted her inside a large, rectangular hangar. Inside sat the first two prototypes of the B-1 bomber. Workmen on tall, skeleton-like ladders swarmed over the two planes. Shep showed his security badge to the guard. Tess brought out her badge, too, and attached it to her camel hair coat.

“Compared to the B-52, the B-1 looks like a glamor girl,” Shep said, gesturing to the lean-looking bomber.

Tess nodded as her gaze traveled from the needlelike nose over the swept-back canopy of the cockpit to the sleek, aerodynamic shape of the main fuselage. “The B-1 looks more like the French Concorde,” she agreed, and then smiled. “Although, I think we have a better design.”

“The Concorde is designed for speeds of Mach 2. This bomber will hit subsonic speeds at low level.”

“Do you like the design, Shep?”

He turned, looking down at her. “As my friend Major Tom Cunningham put it, the plane is pure sex.”

She laughed with him. The B-1 was a Thoroughbred. It was a beautifully crafted plane and much smaller than the aging, eight-engined B-52. The B-1 could carry twice as many weapons, and once tested, it was hoped its overall performance would far surpass any existing bomber. “When you stop to think that there are over three thousand contractors and subcontractors working to put the B-1 together, it boggles your mind.”

Shep nodded, leading her around to the tricyclelike landing gear that raised the bomber twelve feet off the ground. A huge nacelle placed beneath each wing would hold two engines each.

“Speaking of contractors, I’d rather fly this thing than have to deal with them.” His slate-colored eyes sparkled with mirth. “Trying to handle the three thousand companies involved would be enough to give me gray hair long before my time.”

Tess sobered. “I know,” she answered, worry tinging her voice. “Cy deals directly with both the Air Force and the contractors. He works far too hard.”

Shep leaned against one of the thick white steel landing gear struts, studying her. “Your husband is in a very powerful and influential position at Rockwell. I’m sure he has to work hard to keep the whole thing moving. What’s the matter, don’t you like the prestige that goes with that position?” Shep was thinking that Allyson would revel in it.

Tess gave a vague shrug. “Money isn’t everything, Captain. Sure, it’s nice to have it but”—she smiled, her eyes crinkling with silent laughter—“sometimes, quite frankly, I’d rather be back in my jeans and pigtails.”

“And out walking in the woods. Right?”

She tilted her head, perplexed. “Now, how did you know that?”

“Anyone who has freckles is an outdoors girl,” Shep baited, grinning.

Tess blushed, avoiding his caressing gaze. Even with their truce, she still felt inexorably drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Noticing his bronzed skin, Tess countered, “You’re a country boy yourself.”

“Oh? Does my Maine heritage show through that strongly?” he asked, continuing to wander beneath the carriage of the bomber.

Tess turned, smiling up at him. “So! That’s where you get your poker face. You’re so hard to read when you don’t want to be read!”

He pursed his mouth, giving her a sidelong glance. “Hmm. Tom teases me a lot about my stone face sometimes. He tells a lot of jokes to get me to loosen up.”

“Always too serious?” she ventured.

“Yes.”

“The New England sense of responsibility?”

“Right again. Sure you aren’t a mind reader?”

Tess shared his smile.

“No. Just putting two and two together. I met a few young men back at Harvard who had that same serious look. Most of them came from poor families. They were used to working their way up through the ranks.” She glanced up at him. “Did you?”

“What?”

Tess sensed his hesitancy to talk about his past. “I’m sorry, I’m prying,” she said.

Shep halted near the large tail and stabilizer section, which rose loftily above them. “No, you’re not prying.” He studied her upturned face. She was the exact opposite of Allyson. In Tess’s eyes there was only curiosity and genuine concern. But in Allyson’s he could always detect signs of an ulterior motive. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I did come from a poor family, Tess. I was the oldest of six. My father was a potato farmer up in central Maine.” His brow wrinkled with memories. “Dad suffered a back injury when I was seven and I ended up doing most of the farm work. On top of that, Mom was never in good health. She was frail.” He smiled fondly. “I never could figure out how she had all six of us.”

“So you ended up not only with extra farm chores but helping to raise your other brothers and sisters?”

Shep nodded. “Yes. When Dad wasn’t around I ended up being like a second father to the younger ones. Mom expected me to keep them in line.”

“No wonder you don’t smile much,” Tess whispered, understanding the responsibility that had fallen on his shoulders as a youngster. “That must have been very tough on you.”

“It was, but it taught me discipline at an early age. I discovered I could do things I never thought I could.”

“Is that why you joined the Air Force?”

He halted, looking up at the hangar ceiling. “Let’s put it this way, Tess. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life fighting poor soil conditions and severe weather trying to plant potatoes. I saw what it did to my parents, I guess I wanted something better.”

In that instant, Tess saw Shep in a new light. He was a proud man. But his pride came from the knowledge that he had survived and gone on to be successful on his own terms. “I admire you, Shep. I really do,” she murmured, awed.

“Don’t be too impressed,” he answered gravely. “I really had no choice. I either worked or everybody starved.”

He slipped his hand beneath her elbow and led her out of the hangar. The Mojave winds were whipping tumbleweeds along the desert surface to their right. Opening the car door, he helped her in. Taking off his flight cap, he shut the door. Several strands of dark hair had dipped to his brow and he pushed them back with his long, tapered fingers. The interior of the car was warm from the sun and Tess leaned back.

“Why the Air Force? Why not industry? You certainly have the drive and motivation to do whatever you want.”

He rested his hands on the steering wheel, considering the question. “In the woods when I was waiting for a deer to come by, I’d sit quietly in a tree and watch the birds. There were several Bald Eagles that nested near my home and I used to watch them. I saw the freedom they had as they rose above everything, Tess.” He was quiet for nearly a minute. His voice grew softer as he continued. “I wanted to feel the wind tearing at me, to experience that sensation of soaring. I wanted their freedom to turn, wheel, dive, or glide thousands of feet on invisible air currents.” His voice became inaudible as he remembered his boyhood dream. Even now the thrill of flying was with him. He wanted to slip the grasp of the earth’s gravity and fling himself skyward, just as those magnificient eagles had done with such effortless grace. He glanced over at Tess, suddenly feeling shy. He had never shared his wishful childhood dream with anyone. Not even Allyson.