Space in His Heart

  When his mother announced that they had to say goodnight, Deke tried to seem appropriately disappointed.

  “I’ll show Jessica to Melissa’s room,” he assured them. “And I’ll check the flights again before I go to sleep.”

  Jack promised to take them to the airport early in the morning, and finally, they went to bed.

  Jessica leaned on the banister railing and thanked them again for the day. She’d changed into jeans in the downstairs powder room after lunch and the soft pink sweater she wore outlined her feminine figure. Best not to stare, Stockard.

  “You’re not bailing out, are you?” He cocked his head toward the living room. “Let’s at least wait till the fire goes out.”

  She followed him but sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, away from him. “So,” she said with a smile. “The baby kissing. I can’t imagine how much you didn’t want to go outside the studio and face the crowds. Why’d you do it?”

  “For love of God, country, and NASA, of course.”

  She just looked at him like she was waiting for the heap of sarcasm.

  “And knowing something had to be done to save your behind, however cute it might be.”

  A flush darkened her cheeks as she turned toward the fire. He considered how to get her up on the sofa. Or perhaps he’d join her on the floor. Just to see what happened next.

  Because something was going to happen next.

  “So have you had enough snow, Miss December?” he asked.

  “You have to admit it feels more like Christmas here than down among the palm trees.” Crossing her long legs under the coffee table, she looked out the picture window at the postcard-like image. “Actually, I like to be in it, not just look at it.”

  That was where he wanted her. In the snow. “Christmas is in the eye of Santa Claus and he gets everywhere. Even Florida.” He stood and held his hand to pull her up. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

  She rose slowly, regarding him with caution. “Where are we going?”

  “Melissa must have left an old parka around here somewhere—you can’t go out in that fancy white thing you wore.”

  “You want to go out? Now? In the dark?”

  He guided her toward the mudroom off the kitchen and flung open the louvered doors of the coat closet. “You scared of the dark, Jess?”

  A worn maroon ski jacket that belonged to Melissa hung in the far corner. He took it out and held it toward her with a challenging smile. She said nothing but slipped it on, a light already dancing in her eyes.

  He knew that would happen. He’d been around her long enough to know that when something really moved her, she lit up with an inner fire that made her even more beautiful. And, damn, all he wanted to do was stoke those flames.

  Outside in the moonlight, she gingerly broke the crispy top layer of snow outside the mudroom door with the laced-up work boots she wore under her jeans.

  “Nice boots. You packed for this?”

  “I hoped for this. I thought I could steal a few hours to myself in New York, so I brought a change of clothes. It ain’t Central Park, but I’m not complaining.” She ran a few steps ahead into the foot-high drifts around the cord of wood piled neatly under the back porch. “Hey, I like this, Stockard. Good idea.”

  He held back, watching her slim legs negotiate the snow and ice. The desire to kiss her hadn’t dimmed all day since they’d talked in Rockefeller Center. Hell, since before that, he admitted. But today she had been amazing, handling unexpected crisis, a trip to his family’s home, and now the delay because of the snow. Most women would be all aflutter with nerves or complain that they had wasted the day in the suburbs of New York, especially one who cared about her career as much as Jess did.

  But she’d just won his parents’ hearts without even trying, and his… well, not his heart. But the pheromones were being shot off in both directions.

  He slowed his steps as he followed her path, trying to stop himself from rushing her, but a hot ache low in his gut urged him on. He reached down to the snow, scooped a handful, and formed a lightly packed ball.

  “Hey, Jess!” As she turned, it caught her on the side of her arm, his intended target. She shrieked in surprise but had a return shot ready in less than two seconds. She was off her mark by a foot.

  “A girl’s aim, that’s for sure.” He laughed and threw another, but she was too fast and jumped out of the way, running for cover behind an oak tree, her laughter giving away her hiding place.

  “You missed, Top Gun! Don’t you do this for a living—lock on targets and stuff?”

  He came after her, around the tree, and shot one at her leg. “Watch out, sweetheart, bogie on your tail!”

  She knelt down, knowing she was trapped and laughing too hard to get a snowball formed, so she just pathetically splashed him with snow.

  “You’re dead,” he said softly as he knelt in front of her. She leaned back on her heels and searched his face in the moonlight.

  “I’m dead.”

  He reached out his hand and touched just under her jaw, relishing the sensation of her pounding pulse under his thumb. Her lips parted and he heard the quiet intake of her breath in reaction to his touch.

  Slowly leaning toward her, he placed his lips on hers, tasting the frosty cold that clung to her. As she responded to his kiss, his tongue gently opened her lips to caress her. Without lifting his mouth, he buried his hands in her hair, pulling her to him as a soft moan escaped her lips.

  He moved his hands slowly down the puffy nylon of the ski jacket, far removed from the body he’d been stealthily watching all day. But it was there, just beneath the layers of warm down.

  He could sense her hesitation, her hands on his shoulders applying gentle pressure as she returned the kiss. Gently, unwillingly, he parted from her.

  She could only manage a whisper. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  She closed her eyes and didn’t say anything.

  “And I want to again,” he whispered, leaning close to her mouth. “And again. And maybe one more time after that.” To prove it, he kissed her again.

  As their mouths touched, he gently ran his tongue over her icy lips, offering warmth. She sucked in a breath and he pressed harder, touching her teeth. He moved his hands around to the front of the parka and found the zipper at the top. He felt himself grow hard at the heat of her mouth and the anticipation of more. He slid the zipper one inch. Her eyes flashed open.

  “I want to warm my hands,” he said huskily.

  She held her hand on top of his on the zipper and stared at him, the black depths of her eyes shimmering with the reflection of the snow in the moonlight.

  “I don’t think this is a great idea.”

  He leaned a few inches away and traced the line of her lower lip with his fingers, wanting to taste it again. “You call the shots, Jessie. Take the risk when you’re good and ready.”

  “I’m not ready.”

  Under his thumb, he felt her lip quiver. “What are you waiting for?”

  “I—I can’t.”

  He wouldn’t force the issue, no matter how hot she could make him in the snow. He smiled and stood, taking a deep breath to steady what the close contact and slow kiss had done to his balance and his body. He reached down to pull her up for a second time that night.

  “Come on in, sweetheart.” He dropped his arm around her shoulder and tucked her close to his warmth, then they headed for the lights of his parents’ house.

  * * *

  Jessica shivered, but not from the cold. Aware of nothing but the raw power of Deke behind her as they climbed the stairs to the second floor, both stepping lightly to avoid waking the Stockards, she struggled to keep from quaking. The kiss. The hot, cold, steaming, scary kiss lingered on her lips. Now what?

  More. She wanted more.

  “This is Melissa’s room,” he said as they reached a door at the end of the long hall circling the entryway. Where was his room? Close enough to…


  “This’ll be great,” she said quickly, quieting her thoughts.

  “Mom keeps our rooms exactly as they were when we were in high school. I swear she secretly retreats up here and relives every one of the eighteen years we lived at home.”

  The comment, no doubt intended for dry humor, struck Jessica’s heart. But when he opened the door, the room hit her like a sucker punch. “Oh, my. This is lovely.”

  Pale lavender carpeting, a down-covered sleigh bed, delicate wall coverings. Museum-quality prints shared wall space with diplomas, awards, and photos of a young girl’s every imaginable milestone from dance recitals to prom night.

  Drawn to them, Jessica examined each captured moment. A spunky, blue-eyed brunette in a soccer uniform, clutching a ball under one arm. A lovely teenage girl in a pale green dress on the arm of an awkward boy in a tuxedo. And Deke. A loving big brother with his arm around his baby sister as she triumphantly waved her diploma.

  “Mom loves to memorialize every minute.” He shrugged with a glance at the walls. “And, of course, we were involved in just about everything.”

  “No need to apologize. You’re so lucky.” She made no attempt to keep the envy out of her voice. “I always wanted a life like that, but my dad never had the time. I—I didn’t even ask.”

  “Well, surely you went to the prom and graduated from college.”

  “I did.” She turned to him, knowing her eyes were damp and her pain was showing. “But no one recorded it so… so lovingly. And I sure as heck didn’t play soccer.”

  He touched her cheek, not sensually this time. But gently. Maybe the brotherly touch he gave Melissa when she had a down moment. If the fortunate young doctor ever had a down moment.

  “Don’t be jealous. She was a rotten goalie.” Then he kissed her softly on the cheek. “But you would have looked real good in those shorts.”

  She grinned in spite of her self-pity and punched him lightly on the arm, aching to move back into the kiss. “Go get some sleep, Commander. We’re going back, even if you have to fly that plane to Florida tomorrow.”

  He left her to dream of Melissa’s girlhood, but once she climbed into the welcoming bed, she could only remember his mouth and lips tempting her in the snow.

  * * *

  As soon as they parted at the Orlando airport, Deke headed directly for the OPF. He’d hated being away that long. But in the two hours he’d been inside the orbiter, he realized he’d spent nearly every moment thinking about Jessica.

  He carefully lifted the fuel cell panel and began fingering the wires behind it. Holding one strand, he stared at the electrical connection for a good three minutes before he realized how utterly destroyed it was. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Deke ran his finger over the frayed metal edge and then tore a piece of bright orange tape from the roll next to him to mark it. Jesus.

  He didn’t know what bothered him more. The fact that someone had missed this one or the fact that while he looked at it, his mind was far, far away. In the snow. In the dark.

  He laid the roll of tape in its proper place and scooted out of the orbiter for a cup of coffee. Lack of sleep, too much travel and a certain spin doctor was ruining his concentration.

  At the coffee station, Scott Hayes greeted Deke with a quick smile. The guy was quiet, but usually dead-on in his assessments of the entire inspection process.

  “Have you been through the wiring behind the fuel cell panel, Scott?”

  The engineer frowned and fingered his thin moustache. “I thought that whole section was done already. I’m sure I saw signed-off logs in the PLIC.”

  Deke studied the black ink of the coffee he’d just poured. This was only going to make his stomach feel worse. He flipped the cup upside down over the sink. “Maybe you did. But I went in there a few minutes ago and found another problem.”

  “I’ll get the electrical team to look at it.” Scott shifted from one foot to the other, looking like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

  Deke leaned against the Formica counter and crossed his arms. “Everything else okay, Hayes?”

  “I was sort of wondering what you thought of my idea with the engine plugs.”

  Damn it, he’d meant to talk to Scott about the plug rec folder he’d seen on his desk. But he was more tangled than those wires these days. “What was it?”

  “I ran it by some other folks a while ago, and it got shot down.”

  Shot down by whom? Had he been briefed and missed it, somehow? Was his brain that fogged by all the PR and this… PR person? “Who saw your ideas?”

  “The inspection team,” he said. “The idea was… not universally loved.”

  “And budget’s tight.” Deke said to ease the obvious hit to Hayes’s confidence and his own guilt.

  Scott nodded and headed out of the kitchen area. “Yeah. That’s what I’ve been told.”

  Deke stood and stared at the empty doorway. Had he seen something from Hayes and just forgotten it? Good God, this was a disaster.

  He had to do something about it.

  He had to do something about her.

  His logical mind reviewed the options and discarded each, one by one. He couldn’t get rid of her. He couldn’t avoid her. He couldn’t forget her.

  He crunched the empty Styrofoam cup and pitched it into the trash. There was only one option left. He had to have her.

  * * *

  “Hey, Jess. It’s almost 4:30—don’t we have a conference call?” Stuart stopped in Jessica’s office door, a stack of files balanced in one hand, his late afternoon coffee in the other.

  “Already?” She couldn’t believe that only a few hours ago she and Deke had landed at Orlando and headed independently and directly to the Cape.

  She had spent the afternoon trying to lose herself in work and forget the magical kiss. But that was impossible, since the man in the snow was her work. Jessica had called on every compartmentalizing skill she’d ever learned in management classes. He turned up in every compartment.

  The media’s lust for bad news was evident on every phone call. They wanted a disaster. Could the shuttle fly in time? Would Micah make it? Were the rumors of hydrogen leaks true?

  Guilt knocked at her when she thought of why she’d scheduled the conference call in the first place. She had wanted some colorful, Hollywood-type photo releases out there and had asked the West Coast account people for some ideas to get Deke in front of the paparazzi. But now she understood why he didn’t want to take the time to travel or do any more PR stunts. She decided she’d just talk to them and see what they had. Then let it drop.

  The excitement in Lydia Davis’s voice jumped through the speakerphone as soon as they connected.

  “We hit the jackpot for you,” Lydia bubbled. “Lost Hero. The Premiere. In Orlando. At Universal. Is this making sense to you?”

  “Isn’t that a war movie with some big names in it?” Stuart’s face lit up. “I just read about it. The story’s loosely based on Scott O’Grady, the Air Force pilot who was shot down in Bosnia and rescued. In fact, Deke and a couple of our astronauts were still flying fighters at the time and were involved in the actual rescue.”

  “Perfection!” Lydia cooed. “The premiere is right after Christmas at Universal Studios in Orlando. The big name is Marc Sebastian, but guess who plays the feisty and lovely lieutenant he flings with in the movie?”

  Jessica could practically hear Lydia bursting with her news as they all waited for her to say a name.

  “Sydney Lynn Lancaster. Now I ask you, Jessica Marlowe, who is more perfect to escort the gorgeous Ms. L to the premiere than your former fighter pilot turned astronaut?”

  Jessica squeezed her eyes shut. She’d promised. No more interviews. But, it was in Orlando, so he didn’t have to travel and it wasn’t exactly a hardship to spend one evening with a beautiful movie star.

  “Sydney Lynn Lancaster is a media magnet,” she agreed with a look at Stuart.

  The event specialist in L.A.
started spewing details. “Universal will have everyone—E!, Entertainment Tonight, People, FOX. This is a black-tie night on a grand scale at the new IMAX theater and ballroom at Universal Studios. They’re doing all events out there to push the theme park in Orlando. Face it, on Friday night, December thirtieth, you guys are in the hot spot.”

  Lydia laughed. “What a couple! Stockard and Lancaster will be in every newspaper in America the next day. The tabloids will have them engaged by the middle of January.”

  “What did Sydney say?” Jessica asked. Maybe the Hollywood hottie would say no and she’d never have to ask Deke to do this.

  “We’re talking to her people. We’ve sent Stockard’s press kit and some video from the Leno appearance. We’ll see if they bite.”

  After they signed off, Jessica stared at Stuart. “Think he’ll go for it?” she asked.

  Stuart’s face twisted in mock surprise. “Are you kidding? What red-blooded American male would say no? Let’s call him.”

  “No, no.” Jessica shook her head emphatically. “Let’s wait to see what Sydney Lynn says.”

  Sydney Lynn was a perfect choice. A steamy, sexy blonde with a drop-dead body and a face the camera adored. Every man was bound to react like Stuart at the thought of a date with her. Every man but the one who hated PR stunts. The phone interrupted her thoughts.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” Jo Miller rasped in her best fake Streisand accent.

  Jessica tucked her feet under her for a chat. “Hey, Jo. Wait till you hear what we just cooked up.”

  Stuart took his notebook and stood up. “I sense girl talk starting. Think I’ll go look up Sydney Lynn’s website.”

  Jessica smiled and waved him out.

  “Well, save it for later,” Jo told her, her voice suddenly serious. “I have news, Jess. Bad news. You sitting down?”

  Jessica tucked the phone into her ear to brace herself for whatever Jo was about to deliver. “Now what?”