Love Me Before Dawn

Shep moved within inches of her, a troubled expression in his eyes. “You don’t even know how to take a compliment,” he whispered. “Hey…” he coaxed, placing his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes, “You can’t tell me other men haven’t complimented you, Tess. My God, you’re too lovely. Too…fresh and alive.” Her skin was velvety to his touch. He knew he ought to remove his hand but the feel of her skin sent waves of arousal through his body. Very gently Shep caressed her cheek.

Tess drew in a breath, acutely aware of time melting into nothingness as he slid his hand beneath her jaw, tilting her head up. Up to meet his descending mouth. A mixture of confusion mingled violently with molten desire inside her. He hesitated, a bare inch separating his mouth from her full, glistening lips. Her eyes had darkened to cobalt, flecked with bits of gold. Shep felt her tremble, caught the fleeting fear in her gaze. Cupping her face, he gently pulled her close to his body, wanting to erase the fear he saw.

His breath was warm against her face as she stared up into his eyes. Her heart beat heavily in her breast, her breath catching as he brought her against him. His mouth, so strong-looking, lightly brushed her lips, parting them gently. A quiver coursed through her at even that slight touch. A small cry lodged in her throat. This shouldn’t be happening, her mind screamed. Her heart thrilled to his masterful caress. Before she could pull away, his mouth fitted perfectly against her own, claiming her completely. Forever.

A shadowy figure remained frozen by the balcony doors, watching. Quietly, he reclosed the doors. A look of crafty pleasure registered on his features as he turned, moving back toward the knot of departing guests. This was exactly what he had been hunting for. He would use what he had stumbled upon at the right time and place. Yes, Cy Hamilton was practically in his pocket now. All that remained to be accomplished was the timing of his disclosure.

Chapter 3

“TESS, AREN’T YOU GOING TO MEET CAPTAIN RAMSEY today?” Cy inquired, looking at his watch. “You’d better get going if you’re going to make that luncheon date with him, you know.”

Tess stood in front of the large picture window, staring out over the smog-ridden form of Los Angeles in the midmorning light. It was Monday and the gears of the engineering department were turning in earnest at Rockwell. Cy had worked all Sunday at the office as usual, overseeing details on the B-1. She had remained at their posh Beverly Hills home thinking about the dinner party the night before. She had allowed Shep Ramsey to kiss her ... to steal the very breath from her starving, hungry soul. Her eyes clouded with pain and remorse. It shouldn’t have happened. She should never have allowed him to touch her. The war continued within her and her stomach felt as if it were twisted in knots.

‘Tess?”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry, Cy. I was thinking.”

He raised his head momentarily from the blueprints spread out on his large drafting board. “You seem nervous. Is everything all right? Last night you tossed and turned a great deal.”

Her heart contracted in anguish. Touching her forehead in a nervous gesture, Tess turned, forcing a smile for his benefit. “I haven’t been feeling well. Really Cy, I ought to cancel that engagement with Captain Ramsey. I—”

“You need some good desert sun. That’s what I get for taking you out of your natural environment of woods and meadows. I’ve worried what city living might do to you. I know you’re an outdoors girl. I think some fresh air, a walk in the sun will put the color back into your cheeks again.” He studied her. “You do look quite pale. Please, go. Besides, I’m booked with one meeting after another this afternoon and I won’t have time to discuss that contract you’re handling. Perhaps tonight we can go over it after dinner.”

Tess pursed her lips, walking back to his desk. “Cy, you’re working far too hard! You’re putting in eighty hours a week on this. It’s not necessary. Four or five hours of sleep a night just isn’t enough!” She reached out, gently massaging his stooped shoulders as he leaned over the blueprint. “Please, darling. Come with me. You show me the B-1. We’ll let Captain Ramsey be our guide.” Her voice grew desperate with pleading. “Darling, please…for me?”

Cy chuckled softly. “I love you so much, Tess.” He slid his arm around her waist, giving her a quick hug. “The offer is very tempting, but these meetings won’t run without me being there. Now you’d better hurry. It’s a two-hour drive up to Palmdale, and I very much want you to see that beautiful bomber. I’ll see you tonight when you get back.”

* * *

Her mouth was dry and her throat constricted as she walked into the restaurant at the Palmdale facility. Clutching her leather shoulder bag, Tess caught sight of him and froze. Shep came out of the shadows, the light playing across his face. He was a lone eagle, his gray eyes narrowed and intent as he closed the distance between them. Today he was in his regular Air Force uniform, looking masculine and lean. Her lips parted slightly as he halted a few feet from where she stood. Tess tried to decipher the unreadable quality of his facial features. What was he thinking? Feeling? Would he try to kiss her again? Her heart began to race in panic at that last thought. No, it mustn’t happen. Not ever again!

“Tess?” he murmured huskily.

She melted inwardly at the sound of his voice. She blinked back a sudden flood of tears that made her eyes look even more lustrous. “I didn’t want to come,” she blurted out unsteadily. “I was afraid. And guilty. I’m afraid of myself and what I’m feeling. It shouldn’t have happened, Shep ... I can’t live with myself knowing that I’ve cheated on Cy. I—”

He reached out, taking her elbow, guiding her into an adjoining room. “We have to talk,” he agreed. “Come on, let’s get you a chair and a drink to calm your nerves. You’re white as a sheet.”

She held the drink with both hands, seated away from most of the other luncheon guests. After taking two healthy gulps of the vodka gimlet, she felt a little calmer. Shep made no move to touch her or talk while she drank. Finally she raised her head, meeting those incredibly warm gray eyes. He was relaxed, the expressionless mask having dropped from his features. He offered her a slight smile.

“Better?”

Tess gave a nod of her head. “Better,” she agreed hoarsely.

“I owe you an apology, Tess,” he began. “I took advantage of the situation. I’m a gentleman, and it was my responsibility to control myself.” He shook his head, looking mystified. “There are things I want to say to you, but I can’t because you’re married.”

Her dark lashes framed widening eyes. “I am married. And I love my husband very much, Shep,” she said in a trembling voice. “I know I don’t have very much experience. And I can’t explain why I let you kiss me.” She dragged in a deep breath, hands pressed against her hot, flushed cheeks. “But please, for God’s sake, don’t do it again. I—I can barely live with myself now. If Cy knew—”

“No one saw us, Tess.” He leaned forward, a new urgency in his voice. “Look, one kiss doesn’t mean you’re having a full-blown affair. It’s not the end of the world. Put it into perspective.” His mouth thinned as he assessed her worriedly. “I’m sorry. Truly sorry for evoking this kind of pain in you. I never intended to do that, Tess, believe me. You didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of hurt.”

Tears slid down her cheeks and she brushed them away. Drawing a handkerchief from his back pocket, he placed it in her cool, damp fingers. Shakily she wiped the tears away. “All I want to do is see the B-1 and then leave, Shep.” How could she explain that her heart craved what Shep Ramsey had offered her? But her head was telling her that she was married to Cy.

“It’s not as simple as that,” he corrected gently. “You know well be seeing each other in the future because of the bomber. You can’t run away and hide from this, Tess. Neither of us can,” he concluded with more authority. “I promise not to make it any more awkward than it’s already become. But you’re going to have to put any guilt you feel over this into proper perspective and then lay it to rest. Otherwise you’ll only tear yourself apart.” He frowned, watching pain cross her mobile features. How could he have forgotten for one instant that emotionally she was a naive eighteen-year-old and not a mature woman of twenty-four? Agony slashed at his heart because he had selfishly inflicted this pain on her because of his own desire.

Shep idly sloshed the Scotch around in his glass, staring moodily at the ice cubes. He had done a great deal of thinking since kissing Tess. Most of his thoughts were centered on his disintegrating marriage. Allyson was a social climber. She lived for it. It hurt him to think that all she had seen in him when they married was a way to reach the top. But he knew she’d always dreamed of becoming a general’s wife. And God knew, he had the proper background to make him eligible in another twelve years. He took a sip of the Scotch, glancing over at Tess.

Her cheeks were tear-wet and flushed, her lashes thick and dark with tears. Instinctively, Shep knew Tess wasn’t concerned with the trappings of the material world. Hers was a world of emotional sensitivity. A world he had been craving to be a part of since he had been old enough to recognize it. And emotional sensitivity was something entirely foreign to Allyson.

“Come on, Tess. Finish your drink and I’ll take you to look at that bomber you’re building,” he said.

Tess raised her head, meeting his gray gaze. A new kind of warmth invaded her heart, soothing the ragged edges of the guilt. A tremulous smile touched her lips.

* * *

Shep escorted her inside a large, rectangular hangar. Inside sat the first two prototypes of the B-1 bomber. Workmen on tall, skeleton-like ladders swarmed over the two planes. Shep showed his security badge to the guard. Tess brought out her badge, too, and attached it to her camel hair coat.

“Compared to the B-52, the B-1 looks like a glamor girl,” Shep said, gesturing to the lean-looking bomber.

Tess nodded as her gaze traveled from the needlelike nose over the swept-back canopy of the cockpit to the sleek, aerodynamic shape of the main fuselage. “The B-1 looks more like the French Concorde,” she agreed, and then smiled. “Although, I think we have a better design.”

“The Concorde is designed for speeds of Mach 2. This bomber will hit subsonic speeds at low level.”

“Do you like the design, Shep?”

He turned, looking down at her. “As my friend Major Tom Cunningham put it, the plane is pure sex.”

She laughed with him. The B-1 was a Thoroughbred. It was a beautifully crafted plane and much smaller than the aging, eight-engined B-52. The B-1 could carry twice as many weapons, and once tested, it was hoped its overall performance would far surpass any existing bomber. “When you stop to think that there are over three thousand contractors and subcontractors working to put the B-1 together, it boggles your mind.”

Shep nodded, leading her around to the tricyclelike landing gear that raised the bomber twelve feet off the ground. A huge nacelle placed beneath each wing would hold two engines each.

“Speaking of contractors, I’d rather fly this thing than have to deal with them.” His slate-colored eyes sparkled with mirth. “Trying to handle the three thousand companies involved would be enough to give me gray hair long before my time.”

Tess sobered. “I know,” she answered, worry tinging her voice. “Cy deals directly with both the Air Force and the contractors. He works far too hard.”

Shep leaned against one of the thick white steel landing gear struts, studying her. “Your husband is in a very powerful and influential position at Rockwell. I’m sure he has to work hard to keep the whole thing moving. What’s the matter, don’t you like the prestige that goes with that position?” Shep was thinking that Allyson would revel in it.

Tess gave a vague shrug. “Money isn’t everything, Captain. Sure, it’s nice to have it but”—she smiled, her eyes crinkling with silent laughter—“sometimes, quite frankly, I’d rather be back in my jeans and pigtails.”

“And out walking in the woods. Right?”

She tilted her head, perplexed. “Now, how did you know that?”

“Anyone who has freckles is an outdoors girl,” Shep baited, grinning.

Tess blushed, avoiding his caressing gaze. Even with their truce, she still felt inexorably drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Noticing his bronzed skin, Tess countered, “You’re a country boy yourself.”

“Oh? Does my Maine heritage show through that strongly?” he asked, continuing to wander beneath the carriage of the bomber.

Tess turned, smiling up at him. “So! That’s where you get your poker face. You’re so hard to read when you don’t want to be read!”