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D-Day would commence the afternoon of June 7.
On D-Day minus one, all preparations had been carried out with military precision; he had not left anything to chance and had not allowed her to slack off in any area. They were ready, breakfast was strained, lunch was antsy. A last-minute postponement would make the whole deal a pathetic masquerade of futility. Alone in the Flying Fortress, she tried to pack clothing into a backpack. There was no way she could get in touch with Doug; his info had been stashed in her bag in the van. She could only get past the perimeter, contact Dedra and take things from there-a daunting enough goal. She gave up trying to organize and tried to relax the remainder of the day. Spreading a blanket beneath the plane, rest was easier thought than done despite the warm, breezy weather.
Deep in the afternoon JHH found her and they sat in a stilted conversation. She was upfront about her fears and he tried to joke his way around those heebie-jeebies. "June, between the two of us we could keep skepticism alive well into the next century."
"Why would we want to do that?" she said humorlessly, angling her eyes away. "A woman doesn't need a man to be skeptical."
"I know you mean something by that."
"I do." She grimaced and, reaching behind, unhooked her bra.
"You're playing with me."
"No, I'm not." She maneuvered one arm out of a strap and pulled the device out through the other armhole.
"What, then?"
"As long as a woman has to wear a bra," she said, reclining back, massaging breasts with vigilant hands, "she will always have something to be skeptical about."
"Perhaps a man can give a woman a lift."
"A woman can lift herself."
An eyebrow lifted against the weight she proposed. "You sound so sure of it."
"I'm not. It's a lot to think of." She closed her eyes. He eyed her thoroughly. Nipples poked against fabric. "A man can never know the gravity of the situation."
"Is that it then? So simple a force?"
"You might think it's simple."
"No. A man can know gravity-know it more than you can ever think." He matched her weight for weight, eye for eye, planet tugging across at planet, separated only by a pale moon through which other attractions continued to be felt.
"Are we talking about the same gravity?" One eye reopened.
"What other gravity is there?"
Her other eye opened and one hand flinched against the idea of flesh itself. She said nothing. She just waited.
"It would be foolish of me to suggest you go braless," he jabbed.
"But I could anyway," she parried.
"I'm not going to defend your gravity." He stood straight up, looked down at hands cupping breasts, at the bra that laid next to her like a double-barreled slingshot. "And there's no need for you to defend mine," he added, and walked away.