Lindsay McKenna - The Gauntlet

Cam watched her leave the parking lot and make her way up the sidewalk to the doors of TPS. His office sat just to the left of the doors, so he had an unobstructed view of her progress.

The sun filtered through her loose blond hair, which glinted with gold highlights. She was decidedly feminine, Cam thought. She wore her garrison cap at an angle, her bangs pushed to one side to allow it to sit on her brow. Cam was struck by the serenity of her face, and unexpectedly, the cabin in the Smoky Mountains where he used to spend time with his family came to mind.

Her eyes were green, like the light of the sun shining through the leaves of trees along the trails they used to hike. Or were they gold and blue, reminding him of the sun high in the sky? Cam couldn’t be sure. He’d have to get a much closer look. One thing, he thought, taking a deep breath, Molly Rutledge was pretty in a clean-cut sense. Her face was smooth and nearly symmetrical. Her blond brows were slightly arched, emphasizing her wide, alert eyes. Her nose was small and straight.

Cam shook himself. As a test pilot, he was used to making minute observations. Now he was taking Molly apart with the same sort of appraisal, but he wasn’t retaining his usual objectivity. He hadn’t felt anything since his family’s death, so why was his heart thundering in his chest? As she drew closer, Cam saw that despite her regulation low black heels, Molly’s legs looked slender. His eyes narrowed in appreciation.

When his gaze settled on her mouth, he felt himself tighten in physical reaction. Her lips were delicately shaped, as if by a master artist. Cam found himself wanting to reach out and touch that soft, gentle mouth to see if it was real or just a figment of his fevered imagination.

Whenever a new class arrived at TPS, Cam secretly labeled each student with a name that embodied that person in his mind. And using that intuition, he was usually correct about who would and who would not graduate. Molly was tall, like a reed giving and bending in the wind. She was all grace and femininity. None of those attributes would serve her well at TPS, he thought sadly. What was needed was bullheadedness, strength, endurance and plenty of machismo.

Unable to tear his gaze away, Cam shook his head as she approached the door, her black purse hanging from her left shoulder and her records in her right hand. “You’re a gossamer angel ready to enter hell,” he muttered. “This place chews men up and destroys them on a regular basis.”

His words sank into the silence of his office as he watched Molly disappear inside the doors. A part of him wanted to jump up and go meet her in the foyer. She’d be looking for the commandant’s office, and he could point it out to her. Suddenly the need to meet Molly Rutledge ate at him, and, startled, Cam digested the unexpected feelings. Was he alive, after all?

The discovery was pulverizing to Cam, and he sat there, absorbing the fact of his reawakening emotions. He heard voices in the hall beside his office. Her voice. It was muted, so he couldn’t make out the exact conversation. Stymied, he shook his head. Cam was a test-pilot instructor; Molly would be assigned to First Lieutenant Vic Norton, the flight-engineer instructor.

“Lucky bastard,” Cam said to no one in particular, and looked back down at the work on his desk.

So what name would he give her? “Angel” was certainly appropriate: soft, gentle and serene. Molly floated, she didn’t walk; there was such grace in her movements. Muttering to himself, Cam grimaced. How had she stolen into his work? Okay, so he’d call her Angel. She’d never know it, and certainly no one else would.

Cam sighed. A sad smile shadowed his features. Angels wouldn’t make the grade at TPS. It would be a mere matter of weeks before pretty Molly Rutledge would be politely asked to leave. As Cam forced himself to mind his own business, his heart still twinged at the thought of the brutal demands that would be placed upon his angel.

Chapter Two

“So, you’re the woman we’ve all heard about.”

Molly turned on her heel at the grate of words flung in her direction. She stared up into the dark features of a tall Navy officer, his sandy hair cut short. Molly stepped back from his overpowering presence. He stood glaring down at her, his hands resting imperiously on his hips while he sized her up. In his flight uniform adorned with patches from his F-14 Tomcat fighter squadron, he was all warrior.

“Yes, I’m Molly Rutledge.”

“ Ensign Rutledge,” he sneered, not offering his hand. “The name’s Martin. Lieutenant Chuck Martin. I’m a TPS candidate. When I got here yesterday and they told me a broad was going to try and make it through as a flight-test engineer, I thought they were joking.” His brows dipped. “Are you serious about this? A man could’ve had your slot.”

Molly stood in the hall, her books in hand. She’d just finished seeing the commandant and was on her way to the women’s locker room at the other end of the building. Martin was hovering over her like a furious eagle who’d had his territory threatened. She smiled coolly.

“I didn’t ‘take’ any man’s slot, Lieutenant. I earned it.”

With a snort, Martin said, “I wonder how.”

Molly had heard this kind of comment often enough to know he meant that she had slept her way to TPS. Her lips thinned. “Mr. Martin, I resent the implication.”

“What implication?” He grinned suddenly, feigning ignorance. Then his smile disappeared. “Let’s get one thing straight between us, Rutledge. I’ve got to fly with flight-engineer students. If I have to fly with you, my grades will be lower because you’re a woman. There’s no way in hell I’m getting kicked out of TPS because I have to fly with a woman.”

Bridling, Molly kept her voice low and neutral. “You’re out of line, Mr. Martin.”

“No, the Navy is—for allowing a woman here in the first place.”

Molly saw an office door on her left quietly open. A tall, lean pilot emerged, resting his shoulder against the doorjamb and idly watching them. Who was he? An instructor? Another student? Her attention was divided between Martin and the other pilot. The other man’s pale blue eyes held her captive—probing, merciless eyes that made Molly feel as if he saw within her to her most secret parts. Shifting her gaze back to Martin, she said, “My right to be here will be decided by how I conduct myself as a student. Grades will tell the full story, Mr. Martin.”

“Just stay out of my way, Ensign. You’d better hope like hell we don’t get assigned to work together. I don’t want my grades brought down because of you.”

“I’m responsible for my grades, not yours,” Molly shot back. Her gaze darted to the officer in the doorway. Why was he eavesdropping on their embarrassing conversation? Molly was sickened. TPS was going to be like Whiting Field all over again: she’d have to prove herself through hard work and long hours of study.

Martin grimaced, allowing his hands to drop from his hips. He settled the garrison cap on his head. “Later, Rutledge. Just stay away from me in class and hope you and I don’t get assigned to each other.”

Molly watched Martin swagger past her and out the doors of the building. When she turned around, the door to the office was closed, the officer gone. Disgruntled, feeling the pressure tripled within her, Molly continued down the hall toward the women’s locker room. Who was the mystery man in the office doorway?

She couldn’t shake the memory of his eyes: light blue with huge black pupils that seemed able to pierce her heart and look directly into her soul. Dark brown brows lay slightly arched across his assessing, critical eyes. His square-jawed face was spare looking, and had been emotionless. Martin’s attack hadn’t rattled her half as much as that officer’s sudden and unexpected appearance had.