He smiled. “Just for a while, darlin’. You’ll always enjoy your work, but maybe in a different capacity.”
She agreed. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
“You know, coming up to Sawyer could be a little vacation for you.”
“How?”
His gaze grew intimate. “According to the itinerary you’ll stay at the distinguished visitors’ quarters. However, I just happen to live off base in a beautiful wooded area south of Marquette. There’s plenty of room to hike and picnic. Strictly a personal invitation, you understand, for an afternoon. The air force would probably frown on our spending time together, but that’s their problem. What do you say?”
She broke into a broad smile. “It sounds wonderful!”
“Great. We’ll take half a day off from your grueling schedule before the Buff flight and play hooky. That ought to put that poor public-affairs lieutenant into a tailspin.”
“I’ll call him and ask for a lighter schedule. That way I won’t be stepping on any feet or causing hard feelings.”
“Do that. Besides, who said all work and no play is good?”
“Not me,” Erin said, suddenly aware of an overwhelming happiness.
Ty glanced at his watch. “It’s about that time, gal. We’d best get a move on or you’ll miss your flight.” He flashed her a smile as he rose. “An army wife,” he teased gently. “I’ll never let you live it down.”
She stood, following him out of the dining room, feeling freer than she had in a long time. His teasing about her past no longer bothered her. Maybe the simple act of talking to someone who understood the situation she’d been in and the pain she’d faced had helped to finally heal the old wound. Ty opened the door for her and casually draped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her near.
“I’m going to miss you,” he whispered fiercely.
Erin’s arm went around his lean waist. “It’s been good meeting you, too, Captain Phillips,” she baited, smiling up at him.
“You’re heady stuff, gal. I’m going to need a month to recover from this encounter. You’re worse than a magnetic storm to my gyro.”
Erin laughed at his ridiculous metaphor. “Spoken like a true Buff pilot,” she told him. Their words were light, but underneath she knew they would miss each other.
The thought made her feel panic as well as joy. She felt protected within his arms, intensely aware of his strength of body and character. He had shortened his stride for her sake and she was grateful. She hoped to keep their parting light.
Suddenly her life seemed to be spiraling into a tailspin. Where was she going? What was happening? How did Ty fit into the larger picture of her life? Or did he? Icy waters of reality seemed to have been thrown over her ebullient mood. She was walking with an incredibly handsome man with attributes that struck responsive chords deep within her. But he wore an air force uniform, and his career was a demanding, brutal mistress. Some of her happiness ebbed away. Seeming to sense it, Ty gave her a gentle embrace.
“Something wrong?”
She glanced guiltily up at him. “No,” she lied.
“You were walking on air a moment ago,” he observed, studying her.
She squirmed beneath his radar-sharp gaze. “Stop being so damn perceptive!” she accused in a teasing voice.
“Hmmm, my Irishwoman has gone moody on me now.”
“You, of all people, shouldn’t be surprised.”
He grinned boyishly. “I’m not. And never will be. That’s another thing I like about you, Erin Quinlan. You make no excuse for how you feel, from one quicksilver moment to another. It makes you a provocative, fascinating creature.” His voice had sunk to a husky whisper.
“In your eyes only,” she contradicted, embarrassed by his words.
He leaned over and placed a quick kiss on her hair. “That’s all that counts, darlin’. Come on. Let’s get your luggage and meet that plane.”
They didn’t say much after dispensing with her bags and getting her boarding pass for the flight. What
was
there to say?
Erin dreaded hearing the call to board. Ty lounged beside her like a lion lazing in the late-afternoon sun. She smiled secretly, amazed at how youthful he looked out of uniform. His lean, muscular legs were spread before him and he seemed poured into the lounge chair.
Several times she opened her mouth to speak and bit back the words, afraid of his recrimination, which might follow. Had two days gone by? It seemed as if they had known each other forever.
He had sobered greatly since coming to the airport. Was he going to miss her? What did she mean to him? Again the urge to ask him almost made her speak, but she gripped her purse and stared down at it, fighting back the temptation to force him to say things he might not be ready to say.
Just then the ticket agent announced the boarding. Almost simultaneously Erin felt Ty’s reassuring fingers sliding down her wrist, capturing her hand firmly. She looked up at him. Suddenly, it was too late to say the things she needed desperately to tell him. He offered her a tender smile.
“Come on, my beautiful banshee. Let’s get you aboard so your editor doesn’t have cardiac arrest wondering why you don’t show up on time.”
Erin rose, glad that he still held her hand. “Don’t worry. He wouldn’t have a heart attack,” she said. “Just as long as the article meets the deadline at the end of November, he won’t care where I am.” She cringed inwardly. Good Lord! What suggestions was she making?
Ty watched her with an unreadable expression. “You might not get in hot water, but I would. If I don’t show up at K. I. Siberia tonight, all hell will break loose.”
She gave a little laugh. “K. I. Siberia? Is that what you fondly call your air base?”
“Yup. We get two hundred and ten inches of snow each year. I’ve taken up snow sports in defense. A lot of the guys hate the Northern Tier bases because they’re so desolate and isolated.”
“You don’t seem to mind?”
“No. I learned to ski and ice fish.” He grinned and pulled her to a halt. “That’s better, gal. You look so damn tempting when you smile.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His face became serious and his eyes grew dark as he looked down at her. It was as if he were trying to keep her in his mind forever. “But I’ll tell you,” he added, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, “if anything or anyone could entice me not to show up at base, it would be you, darlin’.”
She tried to muster a smile for both of them, but her heart twisted with sadness. Ty had affected her so deeply in such a short time that she felt the anguish of their parting keenly. Her inner struggle must have shown in her eyes because Ty gave her a small shake.
“You got a boyfriend waiting to pick you up at La Guardia?” he asked.
She gave him a shocked look and blurted out, “Why—no!”
“Hmm. That’s good for a start. What about a steady guy waiting to see you come back to the big city?”
She managed an embarrassed laugh. “Really, Ty! What if there is?”
His eyes darkened to a cobalt-blue and a grim smile hovered around his sensual mouth. “If you do, gal, then he’s got some heavy competition on his hands. You tell him that for me.”
“Do all you bomber pilots go around threatening men whose women you want?” she demanded, caught up in his teasing.
“We got a few sayings for bomber pilots,” he agreed gravely. “You might want to pass them on to him just in case.”
“Okay,” she returned just as gravely, matching his droll expression.
“One is—you’ve gotta be tough to fly the heavies. The other is—tough enough to fly the Buff. Either one will suffice. He’ll get the message.”
She grinned. “My, my. You bomber pilots play for keeps, don’t you?”
Ty guided her toward the corridor leading down to the plane. “We aren’t like fighter jockeys who get frontal lobotomies to fly those hotshot aircraft, darlin’. We take our time, watch, weigh and measure everything before we move in. But once we do, it’s for keeps.” His words seemed both a promise and a threat.
She halted, turning and facing him, amazed by his ability to lift her flagging spirits. “One thing for sure, Captain Phillips. I’ve completely reevaluated bomber pilots. They aren’t stupid, slow, or slothful. Instead, I think you’re all dominating, manipulative and shrewd!”
Ty laughed heartily. “I’m not sure I want to trade one for the other.” He stared down at her, his smile fading. “Give me a hug and then do an about-face and get on that plane. Otherwise, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions,” he ordered huskily.
It was so easy to fall into his arms and allow his lean, male body to support her completely. His arms tightened around her, and she rested her head against his shoulder for a brief moment. Her heart was hammering painfully in her breast. At that instant she didn’t want to leave him. He pushed her gently away, a tender smile on his mouth, one that did not reach his eyes. “I’ll see you in a month,” he promised, giving her a nudge toward the ramp.
She hesitated only an instant, nodded and then turned, walking quickly away. She didn’t dare look back for fear she wouldn’t be able to leave him after all.
Once settled on the plane, Erin laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she cataloged her emotions—euphoria, excitement, sadness and fright. Shakily, she pushed her dark hair away from her face, trying desperately to think rationally and with logic. Ty Phillips was far too mesmerizing for her own good!
Erin was sifting through the information the air force had sent her on the Strategic Air Command. For the tenth time that morning she looked out across the New York skyline and imagined the autumn leaves, which must be turning beautiful colors by now up in Michigan. She sighed softly and ran slender fingers across the pamphlets and brochures. It had been almost three weeks since she’d left Ty Phillips at the Dayton Airport. Yet neither of them had wanted her to leave. She grimaced, resting her chin in her palm and staring dreamily out the window. The cirrus clouds floating in a blue sky looked like the mane of a horse flowing in the wind.
How many times had she wondered if Ty was flying his Buff over the Atlantic Seaboard? Each time she saw contrails high in the sky, she thought of him. Dejectedly, she forced herself back to work, back to sifting through the huge piles of literature she had amassed in an effort to find the facts to support the angle Bruce demanded she take in her article.
Since returning to New York, she had begun to take stock of her emotions. What did she want from life? Something was missing, something that clamored more strongly than ever to be heard and recognized. Ty Phillips had forced her to look inward and account for herself.
She had thought that, with time and distance, the memory of him would fade. But it was just as easy to conjure up his laughter or his mirthful expression today as it had been weeks before. She had replayed their conversations many times in her head, seeking to know more, to understand more clearly the enigmatic officer.
“Erin!” her secretary, Ruth Adams, called excitedly. She hurried into Erin’s office, her eyes glowing. “Look at this! It just arrived for you. Can you believe it?” Ruth moved aside, her hands clasped in delight as a florist entered the office and placed a huge bouquet of bird-of-paradise on the corner of Erin’s desk. Smiling, the young man pulled an envelope from his jacket.
“You’re Miss Erin Quinlan?”
She flushed, staring at the gorgeous tropical flowers. Their bright-orange-and-purple color made her think again of autumn leaves. “Yes, I am,” she murmured.
“Oh!” Ruth cried, standing over them. “Aren’t they beautiful! Do you realize how much these cost?”
Erin smiled, taking the envelope from the florist’s hand. He grinned bashfully, meeting her gaze. “I took the order,” he said, a note of pride in his voice.
Her hand shook imperceptibly as she ran her fingers along the stiff paper. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He dipped his head and added shyly, “You must be awful special.”
Erin tilted her head. “Oh?”
“Yes, ma’am. He called from ah—let’s see…. Oh, yeah, a place I can’t even say right.”
Her heart leaped. “Go on.”
The florist scratched his head. “Some strange-sounding place in Australia.”
Erin inhaled sharply; Ruth gasped openly. “Australia?” Erin echoed, looking at the envelope.
“Yes, ma’am. We had a terrible phone connection. He kept repeating the message and I kept getting only bits and pieces of it.” He flushed scarlet. “He must think a whole lot of you to call all the way from there, much less spend twenty minutes on the phone gettin’ that letter to you. Hope you enjoy them,” he called, and disappeared out the door.
Ruth clasped her hands to her breast, peering over the bouquet at Erin. “What a beautiful gesture.” She sighed. “Who is it? He must be a romantic. Just think. He called all the way from Australia.”
“Ruth, don’t you have that article—”
Her secretary laughed gaily. “Okay, I get the hint! I’ll shut the door to make sure you have absolute privacy as you read that letter.”
Erin smiled and shook her head, watching her assistant leave. Silence settled around her, and she gazed up at the bird-of-paradise. She gently eased the envelope open. It had been painstakingly typed; several blotches of white erasure liquid were visible. A warm smile pulled at her lips as her gaze fell on the signature—“Ty.” Leaning back in her leather chair, she held the crisp letter in both hands.
Dear Erin:
Take my word for it, the leaves are turning up at K. I. Sawyer. They’ve had us on a secret mission since my return, so I couldn’t contact you at all until just now. I thought the bird-of-paradise best symbolized an aircraft—or maybe the colors here in the Upper Peninsula. I’ll meet you at the Marquette Airport on the 20th. I’ve got the picnic basket packed. All I need is you. Ty.
Erin took a long, unsteady breath, allowing a growing warmth to fill her totally. Resting the letter against her breast, she looked over at the flowers. He was right—their arrow-shaped heads did look like aircraft with wings. She smiled wistfully, appreciating his thoughtful gesture.
She had tried to ignore the fact that, since her return, she hadn’t heard one word from him. At first she had been crushed, then logic had rescued her. What she had felt toward Ty was simply infatuation, fleeting at best.
But was it really only that? He had been away on a long mission, which explained his failure to communicate sooner. She reread the letter four times and finally forced herself to get back to work.
An hour later, Bruce, her editor, knocked and sauntered in. He took the pipe from his mouth and his eyebrows shot upward in surprise at the sight of the flowers on her desk. “I heard Ruth raving about the bird-of-paradise you just got from a secret admirer in Australia.” He ambled over, studying them critically, then glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Must be a very rich secret admirer.”
She tucked Ty’s letter in the top drawer of her desk and shut it gently, not wanting him to notice. “They’re from Captain Phillips, Bruce.”
“Ah,” he said, his brows moving upward again. He sucked noisily on the pipe and then tamped it down methodically. “So, the air force is using him to butter you up so you’ll write a less negative article, huh?”
Erin frowned at his suggestion. Bruce had been bothering her constantly about the article. She had known him to behave similarly with other reporters when an important article was in the making. Now it was her turn. “I don’t think so,” she said, reluctant to discuss the personal nature of her relationship with Ty.
Bruce watched her closely. “Do I detect a note of irritation in your voice?” he asked.
She stood up restlessly. “You do.” She turned to him. “We can’t be paranoid about this, Bruce. At first I was. I’m not now.” She gestured toward the flowers. “I think Captain Phillips probably felt bad about not contacting me for three weeks. He mentioned in his note that he plans to pick me up at Marquette Airport, nothing more. Just business.” At Bruce’s skeptical expression, her resentment increased.
“Maybe we are a little paranoid.” He shifted, smiling in a way that Erin knew was intended to threaten her. He gestured toward the literature on her desk. “Looks like you’ve been going over all that information. What have you found to support the publisher’s view?”
Erin breathed a sigh of relief, glad to get onto a safer subject. She sat back down in her chair. “You want the honest truth?”
“Of course.”
“Not much. If we take out the bomber wing, we have two types of missiles with which to defend our country, and neither can be recalled from a target once it’s set in motion.”
“But the B-1 B bomber costs twenty billion dollars. How can you justify that?”
Erin pulled out her notes, “The air force keeps the Buff—I mean, the B-52s—flying. It will cost upwards of ninety-two billion dollars to keep refitting them. So what’s the better buy here?” she challenged.
Bruce gave her a slightly irritated look. “Give me reasons we should keep any bombers, Erin.”
“First, you have to understand SAC’s entire concept of the Triad, Bruce. SAC feels that flexibility is the key to our strategic and tactical forces. Second, we can only ensure the survival of manned bombers. These bombers can be redirected or recalled with absolute confidence. Let’s say an unfriendly nation threatens us. In all probability SAC would lift off a certain number of bombers. Captain Phillips mentioned that they go out to preset coordinates and fly a pattern, waiting for further commands. If they’re in the air long enough, they’re refueled by KC-135 tankers. Therefore, they can act as a threat, to help deescalate a situation.”
He snorted contemptuously. “Or escalate it, as the case may be.”
Erin shrugged. “SAC has been around since World War Two, and so far, no nuclear wars. They might be doing something right.”
“I doubt it,” he said, beginning to pace in front of her desk, puffing intently on his pipe. “Look at the mess the world’s in now.”
Her patience lessened. “Bruce, we can’t blame SAC for aggression all over the world! Are you trying to use SAC as a scapegoat?”
He turned, frowning. “Ian Wright, the publisher, has strong ties to Washington. He’s antidefense. Several lobbying groups and liberal senators feel that the B-1 program and B-52 refurbishing plan are a waste of money.”
Erin pursed her lips, clamping down on her rising temper. “Then you don’t want a factual article on SAC?” she challenged.
They stared at each other in silence. Finally, Bruce sighed and shook his head. “Look,” he said, “all the facts aren’t in yet. You still have to go to Sawyer. See what you can find out there.”
“And when I do, Bruce, what if the facts still fall in favor of retaining a bomber in the Triad?” Erin asked tightly. He had never asked her to lie in an article, or even to hold a position that went against her conscience. If he wanted a biased article, he should write it himself. It was beneath her professional dignity to do it for him, and he knew it.
“Let’s just wait and see, Erin.” He halted at the door. “You make a pretty good case for the B-1. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the air force had somehow brainwashed you.”
“No one buys me,” she stated calmly, daring him to say one more word against her.
“I didn’t mean to imply that, Erin. Sorry. It’s just that Ian is really pressuring me for this article and…” He left his sentence unfinished, waved at her and left the office.
She sat down, exhausted and glanced at the material surrounding her and at the flowers. The information Bruce had supplied her with was blatantly anti-air force. But what of the air force material? As Bruce had suggested, was she being bought? Was all her information slanted in favor of the B-52 and B-1? And how much had Ty influenced her?
She recalled what her opinions had been before she’d met him. She’d been just as anxious to attack SAC in print as Bruce still was. But then she had met a bomber pilot, a man who was unique, no matter who she compared him to. Were the men of SAC all like Ty? Did they all have a similar idealism? A belief that they contributed to keeping peace in the world by providing a deterrent? Rubbing her face wearily, she decided to call it a day and go home.
Then an idea struck her, and on an impulse she called a friend of hers. “Lisa, I want to take you up on that invitation to use your cabin in the Catskills. Is it going to be available this weekend?”
“Sure! It’s about time you left the city and got some good earth beneath your feet.” Lisa laughed. “Just remember, the key is under the rubber mat on the porch.”
Erin smiled, already feeling a pressing weight being lifted from her shoulders. “Great!”
“The cabin’s stocked, but you’ll need to buy perishables. And if you want wine, better take some along.”
“I will. I need some time alone to think,” she confided.
“Well, enjoy! I’ll call you Monday morning to see if you got back to the city all right.”
Erin laughed. “Don’t worry, I will. Thanks, Lisa. I owe you one.”
She hung up and stared blankly at the opposite wall. Why was she going up to a cabin in the mountains now? Lisa had been offering her the cabin for the last two years, and she’d never felt inclined to use it. But now she needed some breathing room. Or, a voice whispered, are you trying to find a substitute for autumn in Michigan? Irritated, Erin dismissed the idea. She slung her bag over her shoulder and picked up the bouquet on her way out.
A week later Erin glanced hurriedly at her watch as she finished packing all the material she’d need on the trip to K. I. Sawyer Air Force Base. Bruce ambled into her office.
“You’re running late to catch that flight,” he noted.
“I know,” she muttered. Snapping the briefcase shut, she moved quickly from behind her desk. “I’ll be in touch after I get there,” she promised.
He gave her an incisive look. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were excited about going.”
She shrugged, trying to look casual when she was, indeed, brimming over with anticipation. Since spending the previous weekend at Lisa’s cabin, she’d been more honest with herself. The two days in the tranquillity of the forest had helped tremendously to restore her torn spirits. She had crunched through the fallen leaves, breathed in the musky smells and looked for signs of the coming winter. Slowly she had begun to understand why Ty loved the outdoors. She had returned to the office on Monday morning feeling refreshed and clear-minded.
“I’m looking forward to getting back into the woods again,” she told Bruce.
“Ah, so you enjoyed the Catskills?”
“It was wonderful,” she said, stepping out into the lobby. She turned. “Wish me luck.”
“Brother, do I! Think of me when you take that ride in the B-52. I have to admit I’m jealous. But remember our purpose,” he added darkly.
On the flight to Michigan, Erin tried to quell her racing heart and relax. The plane landed at Detroit, where she spent several hours waiting for the connection to the small town of Marquette. The weather in New York had been cloudy and threatening rain. Here the sky was a turquoise-blue with a brilliant autumn sun. Glancing at her watch, Erin realized that it was nearly four-thirty and that she was hungry despite her excitement. The small commuter aircraft landed at Marquette County Airport at exactly 6 p.m. The sky had turned a dusky-apricot and the sun was dipping lower, silhouetting a stand of pine trees against the horizon.
Erin tried to appear calm and collected as she stepped into the main waiting area of the tiny airport. Rapidly, she scanned the faces. Ty Phillips wasn’t here. Her soaring spirits plummeted and she wrestled with her disappointment. When had she
ever
felt like this? How could a man she had met and worked with for only two days have such a devastating effect on her a month later?
You’ve got it bad, Erin
, she chided herself silently. She picked up her suitcase and headed for the front doors where she peered outside. There was no sign of an air force car or any military personnel. Setting down her luggage next to a row of chairs, she dug into her purse for the phone number of the public-affairs office at the base.