by Cassie Miles
“What kind of car were they driving?”
“A big, black Studebaker.”
Those were the guys. If Luke had any doubt, he needed only to look toward Henry and Martin who were nudging each other. Real subtle. “When did they get here?”
“Four days ago. I remember because it was Sunday, and I was running late for dinner at my girlfriend’s house.” He glanced at another dressy couple who swept through the lobby arm in arm. “Looks like I’m going to be late again. Soon as I leave here, I’ve got to pick my girl up for the senior prom.”
“Thanks for the information,” Luke said. “If you see those men again, I need to know.”
The bellboy leaned close and whispered, “Is this 10th Mountain Division business?”
Luke nodded. “Keep it under your hat.”
“You bet,” he said enthusiastically. “Have any of you guys been in combat?”
“The sergeant has,” Henry piped up. “At Po Valley in Italy.”
The bellboy gave him a thumbs-up. “Did you kill any Nazis?”
Luke swallowed hard. He didn’t like to talk about combat. Apparently, he didn’t need to because Henry had already launched into the story.
“Sergeant Rawlins was at the front lines in the Apennine mountains in Italy with the rest of the troops from the 10th Mountain Division. They were at a high ridge, and the Nazis had taken the high ground. The only direct approach was too well guarded. But there was another way to the top. Straight up. A twelve-hundred-foot rock face.”
“That’s enough,” Luke said. “The boy’s already late.”
“But I want to hear this. My sweetie can wait.”
Luke turned his head and saw Shana standing only a few paces away. She’d changed clothes, and he was impressed by her transformation. Her strong features weren’t pretty like a pinup girl, but she was the kind of woman who made a man stop and take notice. Her long, black hair tumbled around her shoulders. Her dark eyes sparkled. “Rita Hayworth has got nothing on you.”
“I assume that’s a compliment.” Looking up at him through her thick eyelashes, she asked, “Do you like the outfit?”
He was very pleased by the low neckline on her azure blouse that gave an enticing glimpse of cleavage. But she was still wearing full-cut slacks. “I was hoping you might show some leg.”
“A little too cold for that.” She glanced at Henry. “Please continue with your story.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He shot his hand upward at a sharp angle. “Twelve hundred vertical feet. A heck of a climb. But that’s what we spend our time at Camp Hale training for.” He puffed out his scrawny chest. “Climbing up and rappelling down. With knapsacks and Garand rifles on our backs.”
“Wait a minute,” Shana said. “Are you telling me that the 10th Mountain Division scaled a rock face that was over a thousand feet while carrying packs?”
Henry gave a laugh. “It wouldn’t do much good to get to the top without weapons, would it?”
“I guess not,” she said.
The bellboy was hanging on every word. “Then what happened?”
“Sergeant Rawlins and the other troops caught the Nazis by surprise. There was gunfire, but the G.I.’s kept moving. They spotted a sniper hidden in a nest of rocks that was like a bunker and crept toward him. They had the drop on him, but he got off a lucky shot. Sergeant Rawlins was wounded.”
When they all turned and stared at Luke, he felt an embarrassed red flush crawling up his throat. War stories always sounded like the movies where stars were larger than life. Luke never felt like a hero; he was just another G.I. following orders. “That’s definitely enough.”
“No, sir.” Henry stood up straighter. “That’s not the end of the story. The way I hear, you were bleeding and wounded, but you still pulled six other men off that hill and out of danger before you collapsed.”
“Is that what you heard?” Luke asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now hear this,” Luke said. “Henry and Martin, you have your assignment. Shana, come with me.” He turned to the bellboy. “You know what I’m looking for.”
“I sure do.” He snapped to attention and saluted. “Proud to know you, Sergeant Rawlins.”
Luke tucked Shana’s arm through his and sauntered through the lobby toward the exit. “Can I buy you a sandwich?”
“I’d love a sandwich.” She turned lightly on the balls of her feet and looked up at him. “Maybe a…a hero?”
“Can it, Shana.”
“You don’t have to be modest,” she said. “You ought to be proud.”
“I was only doing my part. Like everybody else. And I won’t feel heroic about what happened at Campiano Ridge until…”
“Until you know Roberto is safe.” She completed the sentence.
That was the bottom line. He’d made a promise to that little boy that he had to keep.
From the ballroom came the sound of dance music. The high school must have hired a combo for their prom. Luke pricked up his ears and listened. There was a sax. Drums. A bass. They were pretty good.
“Swing music,” Shana said.
The beat sank into him. Oh man, he loved to dance. His fingers snapped in time to the beat. He flashed her a grin. “Want to dance?”
“Not now.”
“Come on, Little Miss Geologist. Take a break from being logical. Let’s cut a rug.”
Chapter Nine
“Cut a rug?” Shana had grown accustomed to Luke’s intensity and passion. If he had a fun side to his personality, she’d never seen it. “Since when are you such a swinging hipster?”
“Since now.”
His shoulders pumped in time to the music, and he swiveled in a quick spin. She could tell that he danced well. Really well. Not many men could pull off a hand jive without looking silly. Every move he made was smooth, sexy and incredibly masculine.
“Come on, Shana.” He held out his hand. “You know how to jitterbug, don’t you?”
Actually, she did. When she was growing up in embassies around the world, she’d learned the social graces: etiquette, protocol and how to dance. At her father’s insistence, she’d taken classes in ballroom, swing and salsa—lessons she enjoyed almost as much as repeatedly banging her head against a brick wall. “I know how to jitterbug, but I haven’t danced in a long time. And I’m not very good.”
“You’re athletic. You ski.”
“And you saw how graceful I was at skiing.” Her crash down the slope was nothing compared to the damage she could do to his toes in a fox-trot. “Weren’t we going to get a sandwich?”
He caught her hand. With one quick tug, he pulled her close. His other arm encircled her waist. Effortlessly, he guided her in a quick twirl through the hotel lobby and dipped her backward. “You’re good,” he said. “You just need to be with the right partner.”
Self-consciously, she pulled away from him. “We shouldn’t be dancing here. We’ll crash into the other guests.”
“You’re right.” He pointed to the ballroom. “Let’s step inside where we can really hear the beat.”
“And interrupt a high school prom?”
“Those kids are so busy staring at each other that they won’t even notice us.”
She seriously doubted that Luke could go anywhere in Aspen without being noticed. No red-blooded woman could possibly ignore this tall, broad-shouldered man in uniform.
“Later we can dance,” she said.
“Promise.”
“Okay, I promise. Right now, I’m starving.”
Her took her arm and led her toward the exit from the Hotel Jerome. “We’ll go to the tavern down the street.”
Outside, she inhaled a deep breath of the chill mountain air. Main Street in Aspen on a Saturday night in 1945 was relatively quiet. The stores were closed, and only a few dinosaur-size cars patrolled under the streetlights.
When she shivered, Luke took off his short Eisenhower jacket and draped it around her shoulders. He was being sweet and attentive. Almost
like a boyfriend.
She remembered the frantic kiss they’d shared after he blew up the Studebaker—a possible indication that their relationship was headed in a more positive direction. Maybe he was ready to trust her, to accept her. She hoped so. She really hoped that the swirling fantasy of their first night together could evolve into something deeper and more meaningful.
With a sigh, she looked up at him. Beyond his left shoulder, she saw the crescent moon dangling like a Christmas tree ornament above the mountain.
As they strolled in companionable silence, he slipped his arm around her waist. Though the top of her head barely grazed his chin, they fit together nicely.
When they entered the tavern, the first thing she noticed was the wildly garish Wurlitzer jukebox playing “Sentimental Journey.” The music provided a sound track for 1945. The wood paneled walls were cozy. Like taverns everywhere, the lighting was dim.
Luke chose a round table where he sat facing the door with his back to the wall. Almost as soon as they were settled, a barmaid appeared with two mugs of beer. “On the house, soldier.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He gave her a wink. “When you get a chance, we’d like burgers with everything and chips.”
Shana usually hated it when men ordered for her. But a burger with everything sounded perfect. So far, everything about this evening had been pleasant. It almost felt as though they were on a date.
He held up his beer mug in a toast. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
“Back at you.” She clinked her mug against his. “You sound just like Bogart in Casablanca.”
“My favorite movie.” He took a draw on his beer.
“Mine, too.” How amazing! Her reality was sixty years separate from his, but they both liked the same film.
Leaning across the table toward her, Luke said, “I found out a couple of things about the Russians.”
She mimicked his posture, leaning forward on her elbows. To anyone watching, they’d look like a boyfriend and girlfriend having an intimate chat. On a date. “Talk to me about the bad guys.”
“There were five of them. They checked into Hotel Jerome one day before Fermi arrived at Camp Hale. That means they didn’t follow him here from Los Alamos. They knew ahead of time that he was coming.”
“How would they find out?”
He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, hesitating.
She urged, “You can tell me.” You can trust me.
His voice was little more than a whisper. “Project Y and Fermi’s trip to the uranium mines is top secret. Only the top brass and the people at Los Alamos know about it.”
The implication was clear to her. “And one of those people informed the spies. They set Fermi up to be kidnapped.”
“A traitor,” he said darkly. “I sure as hell wish I could have nabbed those guys on the pass. I want to know who they’re working with.”
If someone at Los Alamos was a traitor, the consequences could be huge. They could be passing on secrets and blueprints. Shana hated to think what might happen if the technology for building a nuclear bomb got into the wrong hands.
They needed to find the traitor. “Have you got a plan?”
“What do you think we should do?”
She eyed him suspiciously, unable to accept that his attitude toward her had changed so drastically. “The last time I offered up a plan—that I go to the mine sites instead of Dr. Fermi—you did everything you could to shoot it down.”
“But we ended up doing things your way.”
“I guess that’s true.” She tried to read his thoughts from the expression in his eyes, but he was much too cool to let his feelings show. “Do you really want to hear what I think?”
He tilted back in his chair and sipped his beer. “That’s why I asked.”
Her chin bobbed in acknowledgment as her mind automatically sorted possible courses of action into logical sequence. There were times when being a rational thinker was a useful talent. “Since you blew up their Studebaker, they’ll be looking for a new car. We should ask around at the local gas stations.”
He nodded. “What else?”
“Obviously, they need somewhere to stay tonight. We should check all the hotels.”
“Bella e brillante,” he said with only a slight hint of irony.
Their conversation stopped when the barmaid delivered two plates with huge, juicy hamburgers spilling over the edge of the buns. The “everything” that came with her burger reminded her that it was wartime and fresh produce was at a premium. The usual tomato and lettuce was replaced by a slab of American cheese and a giant slice of onion, which she removed. She doctored her burger with mustard and catsup and took a bite. Outstanding! There was nothing wrong with the beef.
When she looked toward Luke, he grinned. The soft light in the tavern highlighted his cheekbones and glistened in his thick, dark blond hair. Such a handsome man. On the jukebox, Frank Sinatra was singing “I’ll be Seeing You.”
“I’m glad,” she said, “that you’ve decided to trust me.”
“I always wanted to. You’re a strange woman, Shana. But your heart is in the right place.”
She wasn’t so sure. When she was around him, her heart behaved unpredictably—sometimes fluttering, sometimes aching, sometimes warming with delightful yearning. If she didn’t know better, she might think this was love. Shana took another bite of her burger before she blurted out something she’d regret later.
They had just finished their food when Luke waved to an older man who came through the door. He joined them at the table, and Luke introduced Jack Swenson. “The best skier in the Rocky Mountains.”
Jack pulled off a knit cap, revealing a mop of steel-gray hair. His complexion was darkly tanned, contrasting with his neatly trimmed white beard. Shana guessed he was in his early sixties—too old for a soldier. “How did you two become friends?”
“Jack spent some time at Camp Hale,” Luke said, “teaching us skiing techniques.”
“You didn’t need much teaching,” Jack said to Luke. “With you, I was always saying slow down.”
After Jack called for a beer, Luke asked, “What did you find out?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head and frowned. “I checked at the gas stations and the hotels. Nobody has been approached by men wanting a car or a room.”
“Wait a minute,” Shana said. “You were questioning the people in gas stations?”
“And at the hotels.” Jack nodded. “Just like Luke asked me to do when he telephoned.”
She shot a glance at Luke. Apparently, he’d figured out how to track down the Russians before he asked her to give him a plan. Jack Swenson had already done all the investigating she’d proposed.
A pinprick of irritation punctured her happy mood. Luke didn’t care about her so-called plan. They weren’t really partners trying to catch the Russians because he’d already decided what to do.
And where did that leave Shana? Was she expected to stand beside him, gazing up adoringly and telling him how clever he was? Fat chance.
“Good work, Jack.” Luke clapped him on the shoulder. “If our Russian friends haven’t bought a car and aren’t staying at a hotel, they’ve got to have a local contact. Any ideas?”
“I know everybody in Aspen,” Jack said. “There’s nobody here who would give shelter to spies. They might have broken into a cabin that was closed up for the winter. Or stolen a car.”
“It’s possible.” Luke turned to her. “Any ideas, Shana?”
“Nothing you couldn’t think of yourself,” she said coolly. No way was she going to get drawn into another fake planning session.
When Jack focused on her, she saw a twinkle in his eye. “Shana, may I ask how you fit into this picture?”
“I’m an innocent bystander who got caught in a blizzard and landed at Camp Hale.”
“That can’t be the whole story,” Jack said. “I haven’t seen this handsome young lad in the company of a real lady for a very long time.
I’m glad you’re together.”
“So am I,” Luke said.
She wasn’t so certain. Luke had been toying with her. Testing her. He’d led her to believe that her opinion counted, then he pulled the rug out. She was beginning to understand why his fiancée had dumped him. He was good at heroics and bad at relationships.
“What’s next?” Jack asked. “A door-to-door search?”
Offhand, Shana could think of a dozen reasons why a house-by-house search wouldn’t work, starting with the obvious fact that they didn’t have the necessary authority to do it.
“If I’m patient,” Luke said, “I have a feeling that the Russians will come looking for me.”
Shana could hold her silence no longer. “You want to use yourself as bait? Are you crazy? That’s dangerous.”
“Which is why I’m taking you back to the hotel,” he said. “This time, I want you to stay in your room with the door locked.”
“If it’s too dangerous for me to come along, your plan is definitely too dangerous for you to do alone.” She turned to Jack for confirmation. “Am I right?”
“Danger isn’t enough to stop Luke.”
“But taking risks is foolish.”
“Agreed,” Jack said.
They both stared at Luke as he drained the last of his beer and set the mug on the table. “In case you two haven’t heard. There’s a war going on. Danger is part of the job.”
AFTER SAYING GOOD-NIGHT to Jack, they returned to Hotel Jerome. This time, Shana refused to wear Luke’s jacket. There would be no casual hugging or hand holding on this block and a half hike. She kept herself separate from him, walking at a fast clip.
“Something wrong?” Luke asked.
“You figure it out.”
“Let’s see, now. I just got you dinner and a beer. I introduced you to a legendary skier. And I—”
“You jerked me around,” she snapped. “You made me think that you actually trusted my opinion when you already had Jack doing your legwork.”
“He could do it ten times faster than me. He knows everybody in town, and they’re not likely to lie to him.”
