by Rachel Lee
“Are we really going out to the Romeo site?” she asked. The more the afternoon had waned, the more difficulty she’d had in believing he was really interested in security at the missile sites. It was possible, of course, given his predilection for sticking his nose into everything. Still, something felt odd about the request.
“No. We’ll drive up the road a dozen miles or so and have coffee someplace.”
All her good resolutions faltered as something inside her went liquid and weak. Had he gone to all this trouble just to steal some time alone with her?
“How’s your shoulder doing, Andrea?”
“You want the real poop or the polite answer, sir?”
“That bad?”
“That bad, sir.”
He was genuinely sorry to hear it. “I thought by now it would be considerably better.”
“It’s better than it was.” She wanted to change the subject. “I heard we’re getting a storm tonight.”
“Four inches of snow and a twenty-degree temperature drop,” he agreed. “We’ll be back before it gets bad.”
She nodded. The storm wasn’t supposed to hit until between eleven and midnight. She wondered, though, why he was heading away from town along a less traveled stretch of road. Did he think someone might follow them?
“Ah, Colonel?”
“Hmm?”
“Is there a point to all this James Bond stuff?”
MacLendon chuckled quietly. “Actually, yes. We’ll talk about it over coffee.”
Resigned, Andrea settled back and tried to find a comfortable angle for her shoulder. If there was one, she hadn’t yet discovered it.
Dare pulled over at a truck stop about fifteen miles west of the base. The place was pretty well deserted, boasting only one interstate rig and a couple of pickups out front. Inside there were a counter and numerous booths with ragged plastic-covered seats. Dare chose a booth at the far end of the diner, away from the other patrons.
An elderly waitress with a Swedish accent hurried over to take their orders. Dare wanted coffee and apple pie. Andrea settled for coffee and tried not to think about how badly she wanted to be standing beneath a hot shower, letting the warmth steal the stiffness from her muscles.
Only when they’d been served did Dare speak.
“Well,” he said slowly, “it wasn’t a goose that put the hole in that bomber. It was plastique.”
Andrea’s head jerked up. Shock overrode her fugitive disappointment at learning he’d brought her here to talk business. For a moment she was simply speechless. “My God. But why? What could anyone possibly hope to accomplish?”
Dare shrugged. “Who knows? Simple terror? Something more complex? We won’t know unless we find the culprit, which brings me to the point of all these James Bond tactics you asked about. Andrea, the OSI investigators say the perpetrator had inside help. Or that someone on the inside used someone on the outside as a diversion. Either way, we have big trouble.”
For a long moment Andrea made no response. Dare saw the shock in her eyes, then saw her control it rapidly.
“Why,” she asked finally, “do they think it’s an inside job?”
“You’re the security expert. You tell me what it would take for a terrorist to get into the nose of that B-52 to plant plastique. Hell, that’s the easy part, I guess. The hard part is getting into the controlled area so he had access to the planes. OSI is very impressed with you and your squadron. You’re doing a marvelous job, one of the best they’ve ever seen. And that’s why they’re convinced that the culprit had inside help. They believe that’s the only way he could get past your security.”
“A uniform. A badge. It’s simple.”
“Not that simple. OSI tried four times in the past two weeks to gain illicit entry to the area. Your guys stopped ’em every time.”
“Since the shooting—”
MacLendon silenced her with a shake of his head. “Sure, everyone’s on his or her toes, but they were on the alert even before you were shot, because of that business with the fence. You beefed up your patrols long before that incident.”
Andrea shifted restlessly and winced as her shoulder pulled. Finally, frustrated by her own discomfort, she propped her chin on her right hand and stared glumly into her coffee. “An inside job. Damn. Who do they suspect? My people? The mechanics? The pilots?” It gave her a queasy feeling to realize she might actually know someone capable of such an act.
“Right now everybody’s suspect. Everybody except you and me. You because of the shooting incident, and me because I called OSI.”
Without moving her head, she raised her eyes to his. “What do we do about it?”
“Stay alert and pay attention. What else can we do? Plastique pretty effectively wipes out fingerprints.”
Sighing, Andrea lifted her coffee cup and sipped.
“Andrea?”
“Mmm?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you—you’re one damn fine officer.”
Color rose in a deep flush from her neck up. Dare watched in fascination. He wouldn’t have believed Andrea could blush so profusely. The rush of color canceled all resemblance to Huck Finn, not that he had any problem with her looks. Her green eyes flickered and lowered, avoiding his gaze.
“Andrea?”
“Sir?” She retreated swiftly into formality, and his eyes gentled, although she was too busy fiddling with her coffee spoon to see it.
“We need to talk.”
“I thought we were talking, sir.” Her heart accelerated slightly. Instinctively she knew the direction he was taking.
“I know you’re angry with me.”
“Angry, sir?” She kept her face blank. Why the devil couldn’t he leave this alone?
“I can’t leave it alone,” he said, as if he read her mind. “It’s like a toothache. You keep poking it with your tongue.”
Her hazy green eyes took on that gleam he knew so well. “I believe, sir,” she said smoothly, “that this is the first time I’ve ever been compared to a toothache.”
“Cut it out, Andrea. And drop the ‘sir’ business.”
“We’ve tried that, sir,” she reminded him. “You may have noticed it only works for a few minutes at a time. It also strikes me as being about as wise as playing catch with a live grenade.” And if her heart pounded any harder, it was going to burst from her chest.
The mistiness was gone from her eyes, he noted. While her cheek still rested tiredly on her hand, her gaze had grown clear and unwavering. If he chose to pursue this, he was going to get the unvarnished truth from her. He wondered suddenly if he were up to it. Alisdair MacLendon had never been a chicken, however, so he advanced into the fray.
“What are your career plans?” he asked bluntly.
She ran her tongue along her upper lip, considering. “Two weeks ago I would have said I wanted to retire at the rank of colonel. I’m not sure now. I mean, I knew that if I played with guns there was a distinct possibility I might have to use one. I guess I didn’t really believe it.” She straightened and took a sip of coffee. “I just don’t know anymore. I have to be able to live with myself, one way or the other.” Suddenly her gaze transfixed him. “What about you, sir?”
“Me? I’m a year away from retirement, if I want to take it. And I’m thinking about it, Andrea. I’m thinking about it very hard.”
“But you’re up for general.”
“I can retire as a general just as easily as a colonel. There are a lot of things I never got around to doing, and I find myself thinking about them.”
She was softening. Captain Burke was slipping away like a veneer. Taking advantage of the moment, Dare charged ahead.
“About what happened between us, Andrea…”
Her head jerked up, and her eyes were suddenly snapping. “Yes, sir, let’s talk about that. It’s high time we cleared the air on that subject.”
Uh-oh, thought Dare with amusement.
She saw the resignation pass over his face but didn’t
relent, even though she was tempted. She’d been having this argument with herself since Thanksgiving, and now that she was wound up, she wanted to cite all her reasons, to make him understand what she felt he’d failed to.
“I’m not sure you fully understand my situation. The simple fact is, my entire career can be destroyed by a single indiscretion. You’re a man. You’re expected to chase skirts. If the skirt happens to belong to a subordinate officer, it doesn’t matter in the least unless she chooses to make some kind of fuss about it.
“On the other hand, I’m a woman. In these liberated times it’s okay if I have an affair, but it will never be okay for me to have a personal relationship with my commanding officer. One whisper of something like that will label me forever as a woman who uses her body to get ahead. I can forget the whole idea of a career if that happens.”
“Whoa, Andrea. Easy.”
She shook her head, and her green eyes met his forthrightly despite the color that climbed up her throat. “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you.” Which was one heck of an understatement, she thought. It was about all she seemed to want anymore. “I think, however, that the price may be a whole lot higher than I’m willing to pay for a casual affair.”
It was the last two words that got to him: casual affair. Was that how it looked to her, as if he were toying with her entire future for a few casual couplings? Casual was not the word for any of the things Andrea made him feel. He hadn’t really examined those feelings, but he guessed it was time to do so. Before they decided how to settle this thing between them, he owed her that much, at least. And, he decided, he owed her equal honesty.
“Andrea, this isn’t casual for me. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s definitely not casual.”
Her eyes widened; then she blinked in that way she had when she was momentarily taken aback. “Oh.” Suddenly all her arguments fled from her head. Not casual. The admission at once terrified and elated her. She didn’t want his interest to be casual, but she didn’t know how she would handle it if it wasn’t. Lord, she’d turned into a dithering idiot!
“I’m not sure you’ll be grateful when you think about it,” he said drily. “A casual affair is a lot easier to dismiss.”
“What are you saying, sir?”
“I’ve been where you are, Andrea. I know better than you think just how you view things and what you want out of life. Maybe in ten or twelve years you’ll understand where I’m coming from. When you devote your whole life to an institution, you get very few personal rewards. You wake up one morning and find you’ve missed most of what life is about. It’s not a happy experience. So I’ve reordered my priorities. That’s why I kissed you, and that’s why I’m going to kiss you again.”
Andrea drew a sharp breath. Something deep inside her clenched pleasurably, but she tried to ignore it. “Sir…”
“Quiet, Captain. Don’t worry. I have absolutely no intention of damaging your career. There won’t even be a whisper of impropriety. But I will kiss you again.”
Andrea found herself fascinated by his hands. Large, strong, long-fingered hands. Their backs were thinly sprinkled with fine black hairs, and it took no great leap of the imagination to picture that hair elsewhere. She swallowed. The truth was, she wanted him to kiss her right now, and it was getting harder and harder to remember why that was wrong.
“Andrea.” One of his hands reached out to cover hers.
She looked up, and there was such an unconcealed wealth of longing in her eyes that MacLendon felt as if he’d been socked in the chest. Never had anyone looked at him that way.
He withdrew his hand and deliberately pushed up his parka sleeve to look at his watch. “What time would you get back tonight if you really had gone to Romeo?”
“About ten-thirty.” The moment was shattered. Her answer was businesslike.
“We’ve got time for more coffee, then.” He signaled the waitress.
Andrea nodded, dropped her chin into her hand again, and let her eyelids droop. The day had been too long at two-thirty that afternoon, and now it was nearly nine. Her shoulder throbbed in time to the beat of her heart. How long would it be before she got her old energy back? And how long would it be until the sight of Dare’s face stopped hurting worse than her shoulder? It was an almost physical pain that pierced her each time she looked at him.
When they stepped outside, it was immediately obvious that they had made a big mistake by staying so long. Snow whirled wildly everywhere, and the wind had strengthened considerably. Visibility was reduced to about ten feet.
“We’ve got a problem,” Dare remarked when they were safely closed up in the cab of the truck. “Still, it’ll be easier to explain what we’re doing in a ditch five miles east of here than what we’re doing out of our way at a roadhouse.”
“We won’t go into a ditch,” Andrea said wryly. “There isn’t a single bend in the road between here and the base. You could tie a rope around the wheel and we’d get home all right.”
The corners of his mouth moved upward, and he turned on the ignition.
The state highway engineers had taken advantage of the state’s flatness and unceasing winds. The road was somewhat elevated above the surrounding fields, so that the never-ending wind swept away the snow and kept the roads clean. Drifts and ice were not the danger; whiteout was. When they set out, it was still possible to see the white stripe at the edge of the road. Dare drove a cautious thirty miles an hour.
Before long, however, they were in a full whiteout, unable to see even as far as the front end of the truck’s hood.
“Damn,” Dare muttered. He slowed to five miles per hour, hoping their reduced speed would improve visibility. It didn’t.
“Maybe we should pull over,” Andrea said.
“Pull over where? I don’t even know where the shoulder is now.” He considered stopping right where he was, but even as the thought was forming, the truck tipped toward Andrea’s side. They were off the road.
Chapter 7
The situation was quite simply one of survival. They radioed the base that they’d gone off the road and were told that visibility was zero and all travel had been stopped by order of Dare’s deputy commander. No rescue would be forthcoming until the storm passed—around dawn, it was hoped. Neither Andrea nor Dare had expected anything else. Anybody who tried to come after them would probably wind up in precisely the same predicament.
Dare ventured out briefly to get the survival gear from the back of the truck, and soon he and Andrea were wrapped in wool blankets and staring at each other by the light of a single candle set safely in a tin on the door of the glove compartment.
Dare shifted suddenly, wedging himself into the corner between the door and the seat. He insisted that Andrea lean back against him and try to sleep.
“You’re pooped,” he said. “It’s been obvious all evening. Just lean back, shut up and sleep.”
Covered by layers of winter clothing, he made a comfortable pillow, and Andrea fell asleep with her back to his chest, fatigue taking her by surprise.
Dare didn’t sleep. Sleep was dangerous in these subzero temperatures, and there was no guarantee you’d ever know that you were freezing to death. Instead he remained watchful. His right arm closed about Andrea’s waist, covering the left arm that was strapped just below her breasts, and he let his chin rest on the top of her head.
Several hours later, Andrea came instantly awake. She was shaking, but she didn’t feel more than a little cold.
“Dare?”
“I’m here.” His rumble was reassuring, right above her head.
Suddenly she realized why she was shaking. “You’re shivering!”
“I’m losing a little body heat through my back. It’s right against the door.”
Andrea shoved herself up immediately and looked at him in the light of the guttering candle. His teeth were clenched.
“I suppose you thought it would make me feel wonderful in the morning to find you frozen to death under me!�
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“I’m not in any danger of freezing, damn it.” He sat up and tried to pull the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m just a little cold. Shivering will warm me up in a minute.”
Andrea made a disgusted sound and reached for the candy bars that had come with the survival kit. “Eat one of these. Eat them all. Damn, where are the candles?”
“In the glove box.”
“You really amaze me,” she scolded as she pulled out a fresh candle. “You know better than this. Every bit of body warmth is essential. You can’t afford to let yourself get cold.” After lighting the candle, she stuck it onto the stub of the old one. “Here. Take off your mittens and hold your hands right over the candle.”
He tried to comply, but he was shivering so badly that he was unable to get much good from the flame. Andrea made a disgusted sound and opened the two middle buttons of her parka.
“Come on, cowboy, put your hands in here.”
“Don’t call me cowboy,” he grumbled as his hands found their way inside the parka, inside her regulation cardigan, and into a nest of warmth and softness. If he hadn’t been so cold, he might even have enjoyed it.
Andrea pulled the blankets up and over their hooded heads, sealing in the heat of their breath, wrapping them in a dark cocoon. The light from the candle was dimly visible through the tight weave of the wool blankets. She made a small sound as her injured shoulder bumped into the seat back.
“This isn’t going to work, Andrea,” Dare said through chattering teeth. “You can’t get comfortable.”
“I’ll get comfortable when you stop shivering. Until then, I’ll survive.”
But the shivering didn’t stop. He’d gotten more hypothermic than he’d suspected. Gritting his teeth to stop them from chattering, he pulled his hands away from the warmth of Andrea’s body and struggled to unfasten his parka. When it fell open, he reached for the buttons of hers. She helped him as best she could, and then his frigid hands slipped up her back, inside the stored warmth, and their chests came together, sharing heat. Shifting slightly, he managed to maneuver them so that Andrea rested comfortably against him, all pressure off her shoulder.
