“Who did your decorating?” Erin called, standing on her toes and glancing down the hall to the right.
Ty ambled out of the bedroom dressed in well-worn jeans, in the middle of shrugging into a short-sleeved blue shirt. His broad chest was covered with a dusting of dark hair and his muscles flowed, attesting to his peak physical condition. He began to button the shirt as he headed for the kitchen. “Does it matter who decorated it?”
Erin followed him, making herself at home on one of the two bamboo stools at the counter. “Yes.”
He began to take several items out of the refrigerator and place them on the counter before her. “Why?”
She sighed with exasperation. “Do you know, you can be very irritating when you want to be, Ty Phillips.”
He laughed and pulled a wicker basket from a cabinet. “I love to tease you. Your eyes get wide and even more beautiful and you get a petulant set to your lips.” He reached over, brushing her hair back across her shoulder. “Don’t pout too often, darlin’. You’ll get wrinkles—or kissed,” he whispered, setting the basket before her.
Her heart leaped in response to his brief, silken touch. She was momentarily irritated when she felt the heat of a blush stealing into her cheeks. Until she’d met him, she’d never blushed! “You’re infuriating,” she said, trying to maintain a grave tone.
He gave her a wicked look, his blue eyes dancing with mischief. “Why should it make a difference if I decorated this house or someone else did?”
“Because, you stubborn Irishman, if you did, it tells me something about you,” she answered, losing her patience.
“Well, I did, so what does that tell you, Miss Quinlan? That as a kid I was good with crayons?”
She stifled a laugh, watching him neatly place food and utensils in the basket, including a chilled bottle of rosé wine. “You’re crazy,” she accused.
“All Buff crews are, believe me,” he responded fervently. He lifted the basket and, coming around the counter, gripped her hand. “Let’s go. I’m starved and we’ve got a two-mile hike before we get to a real special place. Ready?”
Erin smiled up at him. “Ready.”
He led her out the back door and down the wooden steps. The ground was covered with freshly fallen leaves. Ty seemed to know exactly where he was going, without any hint of a trail. A warming breeze moved with them as they wound more deeply into a grove of trees. Leaves twirled and spiraled down around them. Erin inhaled their sweet scent.
“This is lovely,” she said softly, breathing in deeply.
Instantly, Ty’s hand tightened about her fingers. “Not half as lovely as you are,” he murmured.
She looked up in surprise, caught off guard by the depth of feeling in his voice. “Stop it,” she whispered, slowing her pace.
Ty gently pulled her to a halt. He set the basket beside them and took a firm hold of her shoulders. “Why?” he demanded huskily.
Erin stared helplessly up into his face. “Don’t you realize that this is only a dream?” she said painfully. Feeling miserable, she tore her gaze from him. “I feel so…” She groped for the right word.
“Frightened?” he provided, placing his hand beneath her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Yes,” she admitted. “Scared, frightened, afraid to reach out for something I need desperately. To me, this is like a dream come true, Ty,” she confessed, the words tumbling out. “It’s a stolen moment in both our lives, something unexpected that came up out of nowhere. You take my breath away every time I think of you,” Erin whispered. “And I realize that each minute, each hour I spend with you, is like my own lifeblood to me. I was starving and didn’t know it, not until you came into my life. You were supposed to be an adversary. Instead—” She choked back a cry, trying to pull out of his grip.
“Erin,” he commanded gently, giving her a small shake, “why do you see this time together as stolen moments? You act as if this is some sort of magical interlude. Once you leave, it’s over. Is that what you’re saying?”
A myriad of emotions clashed violently within her as she stared up into his clear blue eyes. Oh, Lord, he was so strong, so capable of giving her the balance she needed in her life.
Ty released her slowly and slid his arm around her waist, drawing her next to him. He picked up the basket and they continued to walk at a slower pace.
“Keep talking to me, Erin,” he urged. “I never got the impression that you wanted a brief fling.”
“Do you think—”
“Now, take it easy. Don’t get that Irish temper of yours up. When I met you, I knew you weren’t the type for a casual affair. You play for keeps, just like I do.” He leaned down, kissing her hair. “From the very first, you entered my heart, Erin. I don’t let many people get that close to me, but you did. It was as if I didn’t have control over myself anymore. At first it scared me, just like it scared you. No woman has ever intoxicated me like you have. Believe me,” Ty said, catching her startled gaze, “we were both deeply affected by one another. I purposely left you alone for that month to think about it—about me and maybe about us.” His voice took on a more hopeful tone. “No one was looking forward to your coming up here more than me, darlin’. No one.”
His admission sent a thrill of joy through her. She gave in to the euphoria and leaned her head against his broad shoulder. “No one except me,” she corrected.
As if Ty sensed her need to consider his admission, they walked the rest of the two miles in companionable silence. His arm around her waist was reassuring, and she was grateful for his care. He always seemed to know when she needed to be held. And wasn’t that a part of love? A current of shock went through her. She loved him. The thought made her even more fearful of the future.
Finally, Ty drew her to a halt at the edge of the woods. Before them stretched a brilliant, green meadow, a bright contrast to the orange, yellow and red of the surrounding trees. A gasp of delight broke from Erin’s lips as she regarded the tranquil scene. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.
Ty gave her an enigmatic smile. “Come on, you can help spread the blanket,” he urged. Within minutes Erin sat cross-legged on the smooth blanket next to Ty, unwrapping sandwiches while he uncorked the wine. A pair of squawking, raucous blue jays flew overhead.
“Reminds you of a pair of jet fighters taking off,” he muttered good-naturedly.
“They’re certainly noisy enough,” she agreed, passing him a roast beef sandwich.
He poured wine into crystal glasses. She admired the steadiness of his hands and asked, “Do you have the same firm touch with the Buff?”
He grinned. “Nothing to it.” He pointed to his well-developed forearms. “See this? I didn’t get these from lifting weights, believe me. They come from jockeying that aircraft around for refueling, which can be very difficult at times.”
“And we’ll be doing a midair refueling tomorrow?”
Ty nodded, sipping the wine. “We do one on every mission, just to keep in practice. Fighters do it, too, but they remain hooked up to the boom extension from the tanker for about thirty seconds. We’re on the line for fifteen minutes or so. And when you’re riding around on bumpy air, you come out of it feeling like a wet dishrag.”
“It doesn’t sound like very much fun,” she agreed.
“You’ll be there to see and experience it all,” he promised genially. Then he became more serious. “You’re in a pretty lucky position. None of the wives can fly in a Buff. Sometimes they can hop a ride on a tanker and watch their husband’s Buff being refueled, but that’s it. I’m glad you have the opportunity to really understand the pressures the men are under.”
She gave him a searching look, trying to figure out why he had mentioned that. Giving up, she ate hungrily and drank her wine. Afterward, they relaxed on the blanket. The wine had made Erin feel languid and happy, as if nothing could go wrong in the world. Ty cleared away the remains of their meal and set the basket off the blanket. He lay on his side, facing her. A w
arm breeze moved through the meadow, kicking up stray leaves here and there. He reached out, grazing her temple, his fingers sliding through her hair.
“You look more relaxed,” he observed, allowing his hand to rest on her upper arm.
She gave him a rueful smile. “It’s the wine,” she confessed. “I feel a little high.”
His warm expression tore at her senses. “I’m high on you, Erin Quinlan,” he whispered, caressing her cheek gently.
She shivered pleasurably at the touch of his fingers and sought out his gaze. “Ty, where are we going?” she asked breathlessly.
Outlining her brow, he murmured, “I’m not sure. But I want the chance to find out with you.” He moved his hand to her hip. “Are you protected?”
She nodded. “Yes, I’m on the pill.”
Her pulse beat strongly at the base of her throat. He slid his hand beneath her neck, bringing her gently off balance and pressing her back against the blanket. He lingered above her, smiling reassuringly. Each stroke of his hand soothed away her fears of an unknown tomorrow. He rose to a sitting position and placed his arm across her so she couldn’t escape. Not that she had any desire to leave.
Leaning over, he sought her mouth with his. He pressed gently, parting her lips, coaxing her to return the desire he conveyed. She tasted the sweet wine on his mouth and a soft moan rose from her throat as she moved against his strong, powerful body. The brush of his rough cheek against her own and his appealing masculine scent dizzied her awakened senses.
Ty broke away from her then, barely brushed her wet full lips, teasing her, demanding her response. She sighed raggedly, her heart thundering in her ears, an aching, fiery hunger spreading throughout her body as he moved his hand slowly up her long torso, following the curve of her breast. Mindlessly, she traced the lines of his shoulders, her fingers curving into his soft hair, pulling him down to her.
His mouth molded firmly against her waiting lips, hungrily taking her, his tongue stroking her inner depths. He provoked wild shock waves of desire and she arched against his hard body. She was losing control, becoming like malleable clay within his masterful hands. She was vaguely aware of his fingers expertly unbuttoning her blouse, the material slipping away, exposing her taut, expectant breasts. He seemed deliberately to torture her by removing her lacy pink bra with excruciating slowness. Her fingers dug convulsively into his shoulders as he dragged his mouth from hers, finding and teasing her hardening nipples. A sharp moan of pleasure rose from her lips as he aroused her to near frenzy. She felt wanton, untamed and yearned to be ever closer to him.
It was as if time had slowed to a halt. Erin lay cradled within a spiraling vortex of need. Each touch, sight, sound and smell was amplified to a throbbing degree. She felt the hot sun beating down on her naked body, felt Ty’s own masculine unclothed body against hers. Running her fingers across his broad chest, she gloried in the soft, dark hair beneath her exploring hands. She heard him groan as he pulled her possessively beneath him. The burning ache intensified and she moved her hips upward. His fingers wrapping tightly in her long, tangled hair, he forced her back against the blanket, sliding his other hand beneath her hips. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she arched to meet him, whispering his name, begging him to fulfill their union.
An explosion of white fire shattered her remaining hold on reality. An incredible surge of pleasure coursed through her, hot, molten liquid melting her core and she sighed. Ty murmured her name over and over against her ear, his hot breath fanning across her face.
He claimed her lips hungrily, bringing her into rhythm with him. Heady with an intense, thrilling pleasure, she responded to his coaxing. And then, suddenly, all her aching yearnings became focused in a moment of intense desire, and she was released to soaring ecstasy. A cry of joy broke from her lips, and she pressed tensely against him, the ultimate gift of love shared between them. Erin floated mindlessly in a euphoria within his arms, vaguely aware that he groaned and gripped her convulsively against him. A tremulous smile touched her lips as he rolled onto his side, taking her with him.
She lay in Ty’s protective embrace, the warm sun on her body, the breeze caressing her damp skin. She snuggled closer to him, tracing the curve of his cheek and jaw, not wanting to relinquish contact in any way. He stroked her hair, placing small kisses on her eyes, nose and finally her throbbing lips. Their hearts thundered in unison, a joyful reminder of what they had just shared.
After some time, Ty rose on one elbow, his eyes still simmering with passion as he caressed her with his gaze. He gently lifted a curling tendril from her cheek and smiling tenderly, leaned down, parting her trembling lips with a lingering kiss.
Erin rested her hand against his chest in a gesture that returned the love conveyed in his achingly sweet kiss. Ty cupped her face, his eyes dark with adoration. “My beautiful banshee witch,” he whispered thickly. “How loving you are….” He slid his arm around her, holding her tightly for a long, reverent moment.
“Ty,” she whispered brokenly, “hold me, just hold me.” Erin felt as if a new world had been laid at her feet, and she couldn’t bear to part from it just yet.
A long time later, they slowly dressed each other, trading caresses, tender kisses and intimate gazes. Erin finished buttoning Ty’s shirt and gazed up into his eyes. In that blinding instant she knew she never wanted to leave his side. As if sensing her decision, Ty leaned over and brushed her parted, waiting lips with his. She felt she might explode from utter happiness. Might she die from such jubilation? She snuggled back into the crook of Ty’s arm, where he held her close.
The sun rested just above the forest of pine and oak, its long rays slanting across the meadow and striking the hillside where they remained in each other’s arms. They seemed to be captured in a magic spell as they savored the hour with solemn attention given to each other.
Ty rested his head against Erin’s cap of silken hair. “I don’t ever want this day to end,” he murmured. “Never,” she agreed, closing her eyes and nuzzling his chest with her cheek.
“I was right,” Ty rasped. “You are a banshee witch. You cast a powerful spell, Erin. I’ve never experienced anything like this in all my life. Not ever…”
She reached up, caressing his face. “It was as if we had always known each other, as if we were simply reestablishing some lost, forgotten tie from the past.”
He nodded, embracing her tightly.
8
The mission briefing began at 8 a.m. the next morning at the 644th Bombardment Squadron headquarters. Erin had little time to remember the day before, a day that had changed her life. She wondered if it had changed Ty’s life, too.
He escorted her through swinging doors into the headquarters. Most of the SAC crewmen were wearing light blue shirts and dark blue serge slacks, while a few others wore the familiar green one-piece flight uniform. Erin flushed furiously beneath the stares of the curious men. She walked with Ty toward a row of cubicles to their right, each of which contained a table and eight chairs. She was grateful for Ty’s hand at the small of her back as he guided her toward the first cubicle.
“Hey, here’s our SAC trained killer!” a large, chunky man greeted them.
“You’re just jealous, Guns,” Ty returned. He pulled Erin to a halt. “Men, I’d like you to meet the lady who’s going to be flying with us tomorrow. Erin, I want you to meet the best stand-board crew on base.”
She noted that they all grinned at one another with pride. Ty introduced his crew individually, beginning with a young man of about twenty-six to her right.
“This is the co, short for copilot, Barry Rhodes. What you see him doing with all those figures and that laptop is distributing our fuel load on the Buff. He makes sure that the various fuel cells located all over the wings and fuselage are evenly utilized. That way the Buff doesn’t get lopsided and we don’t end up with a weight-distribution problem. He’s my right-hand man on every flight. Couldn’t do without him. Barry, meet Erin.”
Barr
y Rhodes rose to his full six feet and extended his hand. He had a kind face and light blue eyes. Erin smiled as she shook his long, sensitive-looking hand. It struck her that the men who actually flew the Buffs had hands like artists’. Maybe it took a special creative artistry to fly the huge bomber.
“And this is the guy whose shoulders ought to be broken by the responsibility he carries. This is our radar bombardier, affectionately called ‘Radar’ when we’re on a mission. John Nedzelski is responsible for making our crew number one for electronically scored bomb runs in the squadron.”
John got up, a broad smile creasing his almost gaunt face. He appeared older than the others, his medium-brown hair thinning at the front and top. He pushed silver-framed glasses up on his nose. “A pleasure, Miss Quinlan. And don’t listen to Ty. He’s only telling you part of the story. If it wasn’t for some fancy flying by the AC, here, I wouldn’t have a score to tally up.” Erin gave Ty a questioning look. “AC?” “Sorry,” Ty said. “Aircraft commander. That’s my title when something goes wrong and they need somebody to haul in and chew out. You’ll hear me called ‘Pilot’ or ‘AC’ during the flight. “This good-looking lieutenant is our navigator, Ray Owens. We call him ‘Nav’ on the flight. He keeps us on course and gets us home safely.”
Ray blushed, a broad smile lighting his rounded, slightly squirrel-cheeked features. “Don’t let them fool you, Erin. They call me and John ‘mushrooms.’”
She laughed with the rest of them. “Mushrooms?”
“Yeah,” the chunky man at the end of the table said good-naturedly. “Tell her why.”
Ray turned the brightest red Erin had ever seen and glanced up at Ty, who chuckled.
“Go ahead,” he urged. “She’s a tough lady. She can take a joke.”
On Wings of Passion Page 10
