Lindsay McKenna - Heart Of The Tiger

“Then I’m glad I’m in uniform.”

Layne had the grace to blush. And then she recognized the sincerity in his softly spoken words. She felt as if he’d reached out and caressed her, the vibrant warmth of his voice again soothing her emotions. Last night she had lain awake a long time remembering his comforting words in her ear as she’d sobbed against his chest. And she remembered with vivid clarity the strength of his arms around her body, rocking her, caring for her simply because she was hurting and alone. Layne felt confusion rise within her as she met and held his gaze.

“Please,” she begged softly, leaning forward, “why are you going to all this trouble? I know you want something from me.”

Matt cocked his head, studying Layne with raw intensity. She was warm and outgoing by nature. And he had known her late husband, Brad Carson, off and on for years. Brad had been as cold as they came. Matt couldn’t imagine Layne in Carson’s arms. She was a woman of vulnerability, her sensuality as natural as moonlight. And Carson had never shown any response to others’ feelings or emotions. How had they come together? Matt wondered.

Rousing himself, he forced a slight smile. “For you, I’m an open book.”

Layne gave him a careful look that implied skepticism. “Oh, sure you are!”

He opened his hands in a gesture of peace. “Try me.”

The waiter came, interrupting them, and Matt ordered their lunch. Once the waiter had left, he picked up his wineglass. “Shall we toast, Mrs. Hamilton?”

She picked up her glass filled with the chilled Chablis he’d ordered. “To what?”

“To the future.”

Layne looked at him over the raised crystal. “What future?” she asked carefully.

Matt grinned, clinking his glass against hers. “On our assignment. Salut.”

She nearly dropped the wineglass, and her lips parted in stunned surprise as she set it down. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you know how beautiful you become when you’re angry?”

“Stop it! Answer my question.”

“I told you, I’m an open book to you.”

“If you think you’re going to con me into doing anything with you or—or—”

He reached over and gripped her hand gently between his fingers. “Rule number one—we don’t mention any names.”

She jerked her hand away, muttering an oath under her breath that raised his eyebrows. “I ought to leave. You’re such an arrogant, self-assured—”

“Where did all this temper come from? I thought you had very little backbone when it came to fighting for yourself?” he teased, trying not to smile.

Matt watched her eyes darken to the color of ripened wheat. “That’s none of your business, Major Talbot! Now, either you stop this little game or I’m getting up and leaving.”

Settling his features into a more serious expression, he said solemnly, “Okay, start asking your questions.”

“You’re taught to lie.”

“I won’t lie to you.”

“There isn’t an operative alive who doesn’t lie. That uniform could be nothing more than a cover!”

“I’m a major in the Air Force. And I am a pilot.”

Her lovely eyes narrowed. “Be careful, Talbot. My father was in the Air Force. And he was one of the finest test pilots they ever had.”

“I know that.”

“Of course you would. You have my whole life history on microfilm somewhere in the vaults.”

“I’ve read your file.”

An Air Force pilot, indeed! Layne thought angrily. How many times had Brad assumed other careers, other covers to suit the purpose of his job? “What do you fly?”

He gave a lazy shrug of his broad shoulders. “Anything they’ll let me get my hands on.”

“Any idiot knows you’re either a fighter or a bomber pilot, Major! Don’t hedge on that with me. I’m afraid you don’t know your cover very well. I’m not impressed.”

“I’m a test pilot. Is that acceptable?”

Layne sat back, surprise followed by sadness welling up in her. Memories of her father came rushing back. She remembered his taciturn face as he’d climbed into the cockpit of the aircraft that would kill him on that hot October day. She forced herself to look at Matt Talbot again. Yes, he had that same look she had seen on other test pilots—the “look of the eagles.” These men had an arrogant pride melded with the unshakable confidence that they could fly anything with wings attached to it.

“Where are you stationed?”

Matt sipped his wine. “Nellis Air Force Base.”

Layne’s mind ranged over the myriad bases her father had been assigned to during the twenty years he had been in the Air Force. “Nellis isn’t a testing base. Edwards is where they test all the new aircraft.” She watched him, waiting for an answer, but his face remained impassive. He said nothing.

“Well?” she prodded.

“I’m assigned to Tactical Air Command, Layne,” he said, using her name for the first time since that evening. “Other than that, there are some things I can’t tell you, so I’ll remain silent rather than fabricate a story.”

Her lips compressed as she glared at him. “Nellis is home of the Red Flag. It’s where our fighter pilots sharpen their skills against specially trained U.S. pilots who fly like Soviets.”

He gave her a nod of his head. “Yes. They’re called Aggressor pilots and spend at least five hundred hours learning Soviet fighter techniques to use in training flights against American fighter pilots.”

“But you’re not an Aggressor pilot?”

“I was once, many years ago.”

“But not now?”

“No.”

“Nellis is right outside Las Vegas. It’s all desert and sagebrush. What’s a test pilot doing there?” she demanded. She felt frustration nestling in her throat. This conversation was reminding her of talks with Brad. Only Brad had always smoothly handed her a story, treating her like a child. Matt Talbot was at least telling her he wasn’t lying to her, even if it meant withholding information. Which was better? she thought angrily. “Wait a minute, I saw an article in the Washington Post just last week about…” Her voice trailed off, then she straightened. “RAVEN. They say the RAVEN prototype is at Nellis for testing because the airspace there is off-limits to all civilians.”

Talbot’s face revealed nothing, but his azure eyes calmly met hers.

Layne grimaced. “All right. Don’t say anything. By saying nothing you’re practically admitting to me you’re one of the men testing the RAVEN bomber!”

“I’d rather talk about why we need your help, Layne,” Talbot returned quietly.

She slid her fingers around her wineglass. “I’m listening. Not that it’s going to do you any good. I can say no to you just as easily as I did to Chuck Lowell.”

The waiter arrived, bringing each of them a crisp salad topped with a special vinaigrette-and-baby-shrimp house dressing. Perhaps he wasn’t lying. Why did part of her want so much to believe he was telling the truth? Because, her suspicious mind said, he held you last night when you were hurting so badly. He could even have taken you to bed and made love to you…. Layne gasped softly, stunned by her realization. Bed? Matt Talbot running his lean, powerful fingers over her hungry body?

“Chuck was right, we do need your services as an interpreter of Chinese,” Matt said, breaking into her tumultuous thoughts. A self-deprecating smile tugged at his mouth. “I don’t speak one word of Chinese, and we need someone who can.”

Unwittingly, Layne found herself lulled into the conversation. “You’re going to China?”

“I’m going, yes. But not to China. To Hong Kong.”

She blotted her mouth with the napkin, intrigued. “I know Hong Kong like the back of my hand. My father made many friends over there while I was growing up.”