Love Me Before Dawn

by Lindsay McKenna

  “It’s your choice, Mr. Barton,” she returned.

  He gave her a brief smile, bowing his head momentarily. “Tell me, to what do I owe to this personal conference with design engineering?”

  Tess moved the lab reports in front of her, lifting the first page, which was filled with numbers. “I’ll get right to the point, Mr. Barton. It has come to my attention via our lab that the bearings your company is producing for the B-1 bomber are again not up to specs. We’ve repeatedly warned you about the quality of the product you’re putting out for us. We’ve got a fifty-four-million-dollar plane that could be seriously damaged by defects in your fifty-dollar bearings.” Her eyes narrowed. “Let me put it more simply. For want of a shoe the horse was lost.”

  Barton’s black eyes became pinpoints of anger as he stood. “Are you implying that—”

  Tess handed him the reports. “See for yourself, Mr. Barton. None of the bearings you’ve manufactured have withstood stress tests by our labs.”

  Barton’s lips thinned into a single line. He took the reports, sitting back down and perusing the results.

  Tess fought to keep her personal feelings out of the confrontation. It would do no good to accuse him of spreading stories about her and Shep. There was a powerful urge to drop innuendos as Barton had. Instead Tess stilled her own anger.

  “I can bring you a set of our lab reports and refute this evidence,” he said, throwing the papers back on her desk.

  “I believe if you’ll check, your contract clearly states that the engineering agent’s test lab results will be used in questions of specification performance. Mr. Williams, our legal staff, and myself are more than convinced that you are not honoring the contract you’ve signed with us, Mr. Barton.” She shrugged. “Consequently I am informing you that we will no longer need your services on the B-1 project and that your contract with us is terminated. Our written notice of termination is being sent to your corporate offices.”

  Barton gasped, his face draining of color. It took a few seconds before he recovered from the shock. “Why you—”

  Tess stood quickly, her voice cutting. “Let’s not drop into a personal battle of words, Mr. Barton.” She pointed at the reports. “You’ve been given ample warning. We’ve documented all our correspondence with you over the past year. And never once have you addressed our concern with the specs on the bearings.”

  His face turned purple. “You won’t cancel that contract,” he snarled, walking menacingly up to her desk. “I know the real reason for your antagonism to me,” he breathed. He jabbed his finger at her. “You’re doing this because I caught you and that damn Air Force test pilot having an affair! But you’re not going to railroad me out of seventy million dollars because I caught you in the act, honey. You may be Williams’s assistant…you may think you wield power, but just wait. I’ve got a battery of attorneys that will make a laughing stock out of these damn figures. I’ve worked on more than one job where numbers were altered in favor of the buyer. You aren’t going to pull the wool over my eyes. I don’t give a damn what your reasons are.”

  Tess leaned against the desk, both hands flat on the surface. “Now, you look here, Mr. Barton. My decision has nothing to do with personal feelings. You were repeatedly warned that your bearings were short on titanium. In fact four of your deliveries were rejected outright and had to be replaced with bearings meeting the specifications.” Tess straightened her shoulders, head held high, eyes blazing. “I’m not going to have that bomber in jeopardy for a lousy bearing that won’t withstand maximum stress tests. We’re talking about men’s lives! You may not care, but we do.”

  Barton strode angrily toward the door and then turned. “You care about that plane because your boyfriend is going to be flying it first time out!” he hurled back savagely. “So don’t go crying humanity to me when your interests are strictly selfish!” He took a long, unsteady breath, his nostrils flaring. “You won’t get away with this,” he snarled. “You can expect to hear from my attorneys today. Nobody can cancel a contract with me without a court battle. And, honey, when I get done dragging your personal reasons for this vendetta into the courtroom, you’ll wish you’d never heard my name. I’ll smear you publicly. Rockwell will fire you just to prevent further embarrassment to the company.” He grinned confidently. “I hope Williams knows the story behind your reasons for trying to take this job away from me. It won’t work, Mrs. Hamilton.”

  Tess walked around the desk, her body ramrod straight with anger. She approached Barton, halting only a few feet from him. “Rest assured, Mr. Barton, my boss knows everything. And if you make libelous accusations against me or anyone else, I will personally slap you and your company with a lawsuit. Our lab reports stand. As of today, the bearings your company has made are being replaced in the B-1. You’re out of the game, Mr. Barton. So pick up your marbles and we’ll see you in court.”

  *

  Shep slowly walked around the glistening white B-1 bomber, checking out all the external surfaces of the plane one last time. It was nearly seven o’clock in the evening, and darkness was falling rapidly. Only a few last-minute details were being attended to by the ground crew for tomorrow morning’s flight. He halted at the nose, gazing admiringly up at the cockpit.

  A sense of excitement surged through him. Despite the many man-hours spent poring over computer printout sheets, flight curves, and wind tunnel projections, in the end it all came down to a pilot’s hand on the stick lifting the bomber off the runway. Reluctantly Shep turned away, heading toward the side entrance. Tess would be arriving shortly, and he wanted to be home in Lancaster in time to greet her.

  “Shep?”

  He jerked his head up, eyes momentarily widening as he saw Tess at the hangar door. Instantly he noted her drawn features. “What’s wrong?” he asked automatically, quickening his stride and closing the distance between them.

  Tess gave him a tired smile, welcoming his arms as they slid around her waist. Reaching up, she kissed him. He gave her a worried look, saying little as they stood together. “Nothing is wrong. Well, no, I should rephrase that—not everything is right.”

  “Barton?” he guessed grimly, leading her out into the dusk. The briskness of the wind hadn’t died down during the day, and it didn’t look good for the flight tomorrow morning.

  “Yes.”

  “He put up a fight?”

  Tess nodded. “Do me a favor. I need a drink. How about if we go over to the O Club before going home?”

  “Hop in,” he invited, opening the car door.

  Over a Bloody Mary, Tess told Shep of the confrontation. He sat there, listening. Finally, he took a sip of his scotch and took her hand. “He’s bluffing, honey. There’s no way Barton’s going to drag himself or his company into court to save his contract. He’s mixing apples with oranges, and no court worth its money is going to allow him to do that.”

  Tess squeezed his hands, remembering their strength when he made love to her. She recalled the sensitiveness of his fingers as he held the control stick, guiding the B-1 simulator through emergency situations. They were hands she loved, and Tess traced the outline of them absently with her fingers.

  “Maybe I’m just overreacting,” she admitted tiredly.

  “Hey,” Shep whispered, forcing her chin up to meet his warm gray eyes, “I’m damn proud of you, Tess. You handled your end of the confrontation like a pro. He didn’t.” A derisive smile pulled at his mouth. “And I certainly didn’t handle him like a pro,” he chuckled. “You’re growing in leaps and bounds, lady.”

  “Look,” he said quietly, “I’ve got to be back here at 0430 tomorrow morning in preparation for that flight. Let’s go home, have a light dinner, and go to bed.”

  Tess agreed. A proper period of rest before flight was mandatory. “Crew rest” allowed pilot and crew eight hours of sleep before any flight. But for tomorrow, there was an even more important reason to get a good night’s sleep. It wasn’t just an ordinary flight.

  F
ear gnawed at Tess. But excitement and anticipation drowned it as she looked at Shep. He had been the right pilot to pick for this first flight. He possessed a keen, analytical mind and incredible reflexes. And something more … an uncanny sixth sense that surfaced when he was in that simulator. It made Tess feel confident that he could handle the B-1 no matter what problem might arise.

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “Let’s go home,”

  Chapter 17

  NIGHT FELL RAPIDLY ACROSS THE MOJAVE DESERT. THE winds continued to fan the chilly landscape, pushing tumbleweeds silently through the darkness. Tess lay in Shep’s arms, eyes wide, listening to the wind singing through the trees that surrounded the western edge of the house. She ran her fingers across his damp chest in a loving gesture, satiated by the tenderness of their loving. She felt his mouth against her hair.

  “You’re thinking so loud I can hear you,” he said, his breath warm against her forehead and cheek.

  Tess tried to block out the fear that now clamored to be recognized. They had just made the most beautiful love she had ever experienced. Would it be the last time? Tomorrow morning at eight A.M. he was due to lift the B-1 off the runway at Palmdale. She closed her eyes, burying her face into his shoulder, wanting, needing the solace he always gave her in moments of quiet anguish. Shep rose up on one elbow, tucking her protectively beside him.

  Only the fullness of the moon cast a pale light through the curtains, giving the room a thin, transparent wash. Tess surveyed his shadowed features as he met her eyes. How strong and confident he appeared, she thought. There was no doubt, no fear about tomorrow mornings flight in his eyes. No, there was nothing but concern for her in his face. Her heart wrenched, and she slid her arm around his neck, pressing her body close to him. “I love you so much,” she whispered, her voice muffied against his chest.

  “Ahh,” he murmured, holding her tightly, “my Irish princess is frightened.” Shep released her, giving her a sound kiss on her lips. “It’ll be a piece of cake,” he assured her. “You wait and see.”

  Tess roused herself, lifting her head, meeting his warm gray eyes. “If I could, I’d hold back the morrow,” she said.

  “You won’t have to, honey,” he returned gently, caressing her cheek. “The morrow holds a whole new era for us. A very exciting one.”

  She managed a small smile. “It will definitely be exciting.”

  His features became more sober. “Do you still want to be out there with all the reporters, congressional people, and interested onlookers?”

  Tess remained silent in contemplation. How could she stand waiting at his home until the flight was completed? What if something happened during takeoff or during the flight? How would she know? But standing there watching the B-1 trundle down the runway and lift off was going to be just as agonizing. Tess tried to shove away the horrible nightmares that had plagued her every time she slept. They had been vivid, colorful nightmares filled with the sound of the B-1’s jet engines. It had been the screech and whine of the engines that had awakened her each time as she saw the bomber nosing downward in an uncontrolled dive toward the bone-colored desert floor. She always awoke screaming in her own bed, her cries echoing through the empty house.

  It had happened five nights in a row. And each time, she shakily pulled the robe over her damp, trembling body and got up. She would sit in the darkness of the kitchen at the table, her hands cupping a mug filled with hot tea. Now her eyes glistened as she gazed up into Shep’s handsome face. “No, I’ll be there,” she whispered tightly, her throat closing with tears.

  Shep gave her a tender smile, watching her closely. “I love you for your courage, Tess,” he said quietly. “It’s common to have doubts, even nightmares, before a major flight like this.”

  She shakily brushed a stray tear away from her cheek. “I’ve had them every night,” she sobbed.

  Shep groaned, rocking her back and forth in his arms. “Oh, honey,” he crooned, “it’ll be okay. Nothing’s going to happen to me.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Hell, I have to come back off that flight because I have to pick up my Christmas gift for you.”

  Tess managed to laugh with him over the ridiculous statement. “You haven’t done your Christmas shopping yet?”

  He shook his head. “Let’s put it this way—I wait until the last minute every year.”

  Tess gave him a long embrace. “I don’t care about gifts,” she whispered fiercely against his shoulder. “You’re all I want. All I’ll ever need, Shep.”

  “Well,” he drawled, humor tinging his voice, “one way or another I’m going to get that gift. Even if I have to fly that bomber over Lancaster to pick it up.”

  Tess giggled. “I can see it all now. Don’t you think the residents of Lancaster would be mildly shocked to see you come swooping down Sierra Highway?”

  He grinned, placing a kiss on her eyes, nose, and finally her waiting mouth. “That’s my lady,” he encouraged huskily, touching her lips with his strong, calloused finger. “Come on,” he urged, drawing her near, “let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  Tess settled down beside him, her body fitting perfectly against his own. His mere presence overwhelmed her fears, and soon, her lashes dropped against her tearstained cheeks and she slept deeply throughout the remainder of the night.

  *

  “The mission’s been scrubbed,” Shep said unhappily, halting at her side. His mouth was set into a thin line. Reporters, at least a hundred of them, milled around the door which led to the briefing room. The spokesman for the flight, Charlie Starling, handled the shouts, calls, and questions. Shep moved Tess off to one side, trying to look inconspicuous in his olive green flight suit.

  “Why?” she asked, remaining close to his side as another swell of reporters surged toward them.

  “Winds were too strong at the higher altitudes where we were going to fly the bomber,” he answered grimly, watching the reporters advance. He gave her a quick squeeze on the arm. “I’m going to try to get free in a few moments. Meet me over at the restaurant. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

  Tess sat with a cup of coffee in hand at a table in the corner of the dining room. People milled in and out of the doors. Since the mission had been cancelled for the day, newspaper reporters and television crews from around the world were descending on the establishment after reporting the disappointing news to their offices. It had been almost an hour since she had left Shep’s side. Tess knew he had to speak with the reporters; it was another part of his job as a test pilot. But he didn’t like it. He wasn’t a public relations person—he was a pilot.

  She slowly moved the cup around in her hands, staring at the dark contents. She had been given a one-day reprieve…Her heart wrenched in new anguish, the knots in her stomach finally beginning to untie. Yet when she saw Shep’s disappointment, Tess felt her guilt. Somehow she had to overcome this fear of losing him. She couldn’t be an anchor around his neck. Flying was his whole life. How could she spoil it for him through her own fear? Taking a deep breath, she resolved to try to be more supportive during the cancellation.

  “Got any of that left?” Shep asked, walking up to the table.

  Tess jerked her head up at the sound of his voice. He took his flight cap off, throwing it on the table and sitting down, looking dejected. She smiled, taking the pot and pouring him a cup of coffee. “Like a stiff belt of whiskey in it?” she asked.

  Shep grimaced, taking a sip of the steaming liquid. “You bet. Those damn reporters descended on me like a pack of wolves.”

  Tess reached out, covering his hand. “I’m sorry, Shep. I really wanted the bomber to take off today. Maybe tomorrow …”

  He gave her a glance, his gray eyes dark and unreadable. “If those winds aloft would only dissipate.”

  “What would happen if you flew anyway?” she asked.

  “Charlie’s worried that it may put undue and unnecessary stress on the plane. We’ll be flying up to ten thousand feet and the winds
at around seven thousand are more than he wants us to have to cope with the first time around. He wants a smooth flight.” Shep shrugged. “He’s cancelling it because of political reasons, Tess. Not because the plane couldn’t withstand a little buffeting here and there.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You saw that gaggle of politicians that came out from DC, didn’t you?”

  “Yes . . I recognized Senator Browning.”

  “And you saw Stockwell?” he ground out.

  “Oh, God, is he here?”

  “Of course he is. And he’d love to see something, anything, go wrong with the flight. That way, he could go screaming to the American public that the B-1 is a financial disaster. The white whale, as he calls it.”

  “Is that what they’re calling the B-1?” She hadn’t been in touch with Fred over at PR lately and wasn’t abreast of the latest political developments surrounding the B-1.

  Shep muttered a curse. “White whale, white elephant. What does it matter?”

  She felt the intensity of his frustration. “Shep, I know you’re angry. And I don’t blame you. All you want to do is your job, which is to fly the B-1. I know you don’t agree with all the political seesawing that’s going on about the bomber. These are problems that we’ll just have to live with.”

  “Well,” he said, some of the anger draining from his voice, “the mission was scrubbed today precisely because of that. Thanks to Stockwell, who would love to see us crash and burn.”

  The words, spoken so coldly, sent a shiver of fear arcing up her spine. “Crash and burn” he had ground out. Tess’s eyes widened in silent alarm. Is that what Stockwell was really wishing? Did he really want to see the bomber crash? Her grip on Shep’s hand tightened. Fighting to keep her promise to Shep, she said quietly, “That’s not going to happen. I’m going to make a point of being within earshot of Stockwell to watch his disappointment when you lift that beautiful bird off the ground.”