Her bare legs clamped around him and he thrust inside her, as deep as he could go, to touch the very core of her.
She cried out and he pulled back, muttering an apology. She shook her head and grabbed his backside, pulling him into her again and again and again until he felt her flesh quiver and heard her whine and gasp in response.
He braced himself over her, his hands flat on the cool tile floor. With each arch of her body, the pleasure shot through him as she clutched him with her arms, her teeth, her feminine flesh. She vibrated with an orgasm, calling his name, biting his neck, and he lifted her to his chest, blinded by the need and desire and, finally, a dizzying, satisfying burst of pleasure as he exploded over and over inside of her.
He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Aftershocks shook her, squeezing his flesh and leaving them both gasping for air. She’d taken over his soul. This woman who touched him so completely. This woman who had changed everything that ever mattered to him. This brilliant, beautiful, relentless woman whom he loved.
“Deke.” Her breath warmed his cheek and he lifted his head to look into her eyes. Don’t say it, Jessie. Please, don’t say it before I get on that shuttle.
But he knew he couldn’t stop her. He could read her certainty in her eyes. Nothing could stop Jessica once she made up her mind. “Deke, I love you.”
He dropped his head into her hair and choked back the lump in his throat. How had he gotten to this place he swore he would never, ever be?
Chapter Twenty-three
Deke scraped the concrete of the launch pad with the steel tip of his work boot, studying Scott Hayes’s expression as the engineer glided back to the ground in the bucket of a cherry picker. Of the men who’d ventured into the main engines of the orbiter that morning, this one’s opinion mattered the most.
“What do you think?” Deke asked the engineer.
Scott didn’t answer as he climbed out of the harness that held him.
“It was the plug,” he finally said when he reached the ground.
“How’d we miss that?” another engineer asked.
Deke walked over to the blueprints and computer readouts they’d spread at a work area. Not everyone missed it. Someone saw it. Someone who was willing to lose his reputation as a space legend for revenge against an ancient enemy. He erased the image of Skip Bowker from his brain. He had more important problems to solve.
“It released during launch and ruptured the coolant tube,” Deke said to the group. “There’s got to be a simple solution.”
Only six engineers, including Deke, had taken the lift into the mains. But more than a dozen people had an opinion on what could be done. The more conservative voted for no launch. Deke remained firmly on the other side.
“That pin has no critical function,” he argued as they pored over the computer readout. “It doesn’t even exist on Atlantis or Discovery. It’s a holdout from an old design and it makes no sense that it’s part of Endeavour.”
The debate continued, but he could feel most of them starting to agree with him.
“We could widen the combustion chamber,” someone suggested. “That would reduce the pressure and the temperature.”
“It would also require taking the orbiter off the pad,” Scott commented. “A long, long delay.”
“What about a shield?” Deke asked as he tapped the blueprint in front of him. “Can’t we protect the nozzle from a flying pin or even secure the plug into place so it can’t come loose?”
Scott leaned forward and peered at the readout. “A couple of months ago I suggested that we fashion a safety wire around the plugs for a completely different reason. But it would keep the same thing from happening again.”
One of the engineers holding a PLIC logbook looked up. “I never heard about that.”
Scott shook his head with a rueful smile. “You know what they say about NASA. Great engineers…”
“Lousy communicators.” One of them finished for him.
Deke knew what was lousy. And it wasn’t communications. But Skip was dead and they had to fix this problem.
“Do you think it could be done with the shuttle still on the pad?” Deke asked Scott.
“Oh, yeah.” Scott nodded and peered at the blueprint. “We can do it.”
“Come on.” Deke didn’t want to debate another minute. “Let’s brief Rourke and Price. We need their blessing. Then we can get the right people out here to fix it.”
They met John Rourke, the mission director, in the waiting room of Colonel Price’s office, and the three of them went in together. Deke immediately saw the sorrow that darkened the Colonel’s eyes, noticing the man looked all of his fifty-five years that day. Skip Bowker had been a lifelong friend of the Colonel’s and the previous evening’s events couldn’t have been easy on him.
With Skip’s death, Scott Hayes had become the de facto head of Safety and Logistics. Deke let him take the lead in explaining their findings to the Colonel and Rourke.
Scott sketched his solution on a yellow pad, making it look remarkably simple. Maybe too simple. Deke studied the Colonel’s expression for a clue.
“This is not the way NASA likes to work,” Rourke said before the Colonel spoke. “It smells of Apollo-13 and jury-rigged fixes. We’ve come a long way since then.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Colonel Price announced, silencing the debate. “I just received word that Micah had a cerebral embolism and has symptoms of a TIA. That’s a transient ischemic attack, also known as a mini-stroke.”
He stood and turned toward his window. No one spoke.
“The Russian government is clamoring for us to get up there to get him. They’re in bad shape, having only the Soyuz for an escape and knowing that would certainly kill him. His uncle is in Washington meeting with the president.”
Deke stared at the yellow diagram that Scott had just completed. They could be ninety-nine percent sure. But never one hundred. Not in this business.
The Colonel turned from his window view and looked at Deke. “Be ready to launch at 5:47 a.m. on Sunday. You’ll take a skeleton crew that can get us up and back. A pilot, the surgeon, and two mission-critical specialists. Just enough to get that man home alive. Safety-wire the plug and start the countdown.”
“Yes, sir,” Deke agreed.
He closed his eyes for a moment as they left Colonel Price’s office, realizing that somehow he’d become an ambulance driver and it could damn well cost him his life. When he opened his eyes, he saw Jessica in the waiting room.
* * *
The look on Deke’s face told Jessica all she needed to know.
The launch was a go.
But she asked anyway, praying for a different answer, “What’s the verdict?”
He put his hand on the shoulder of one of the engineers she recognized from the OPF.
“I’ll meet you at S&L in ten minutes, Scott,” he said. Then he took a step closer to her and whispered, “Let’s talk outside.”
She followed him through the lobby doors to the side of the building where round concrete tables were used for outdoor lunches and open-air meetings. Today the tables were empty except for a few mourning doves picking at crumbs.
Deke leaned against the edge of one of the tables. The adrenaline that had started pumping at the sight of him the night before surged again, threatening Jessica’s stability. She wanted him to pull her close, to kiss her. Instead, he put his hands in the pockets of his flight suit and clenched a muscle in his jaw.
“We’re launching with a skeleton crew on Sunday morning,” he finally said.
“Why a skeleton crew?”
“The mission objectives have been realigned.”
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Don’t give me NASA-speak.”
“We’re only going up for one reason, Jess. To get Petrenko. He’s worse. Another embolism caused a mini-stroke. We’re taking as few people as necessary.”
The truth hit her. “Fewer lives to risk.”
He n
arrowed his eyes. “Correct.”
“But yours is one of them.”
“Correct.”
Brick by brick, he was erecting a wall, but she was determined to tear it down. “Why are you acting this way?” she demanded, taking a position directly in front of him. “What changed since I drove you home last night?”
He stared at her, a frightening darkness in his expression. “Everything changed. And nothing.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that this wasn’t supposed to happen, Jess.”
“What wasn’t? This launch?”
He closed his eyes. “You’re being naïve again.”
“Then enlighten me. What wasn’t supposed to happen?”
“This, Jessica.” He pointed his finger from himself to her and back again. “This was supposed to be for fun and pleasure.”
The words stabbed her. “It’s not?”
“You know damn well what I mean. It’s turned into a lot more than I expected.”
“And just exactly what did it turn into?” She wanted to hear him say it. She needed to know.
He shook his head as though he were amazed. “Somehow, it turned into a full-blown walk down the aisle, sweetheart.”
She bit back a laugh, a weird giddiness electrifying her sleep-deprived body.
“I swore I would never put anyone through that kind of torture.” His quiet statement erased the temptation to laugh.
She crossed her arms, a nervous smile threatening. “That might not be the torture you seem to think it would be.”
But he didn’t smile back. “It would be if you watch that shuttle explode into thin air on Sunday morning. It would be when we’re doing an emergency landing in South Africa and the gear doesn’t come down because of a computer glitch. It would be torture for both of us.”
Slowly, she took a step back and stared at him as a painful realization hit with as much force as his casual reference to a walk down the aisle.
“You know, Deke, you are not the risk-taker you think you are. You may not be scared to die, but you are terrified to live. You’ve built this wall around yourself that protects you from the one thing that could hurt you or help you. Love. And, worst of all, you’ve done it with hypocritical nobility, telling yourself that you only want to protect someone. But the someone you want to protect is you.”
He started to shake his head.
“No—” She held up her hand to stop his denial. “You’re so sure that you might not ‘come home from work,’ as you say. Let me ask you a question. What is it you want to come home to, Deke? An empty house? A lonely sailboat? The encyclopedia of aviation?”
“Stop it,” he said, taking her hands and pulling her closer, his navy eyes flashing. “I want to come home to the same kind of security my parents had. The same loving home that you envied so much when you were there. But I can’t, Jessica. I chose a different life. I can’t guarantee any reunions and I just don’t think that’s fair to you.”
He held both her hands up to his face, near his lips, and she could feel his breath on her fingers.
He searched her eyes, her face, a question in his expression. “So when did you decide you’d be willing to leave your glamorous job in Boston to live in the flats of Florida with an astronaut?”
“When I fell in love with one.”
Then she held her breath. Waiting for the response she needed to hear. Tell me, Deke. Tell me you love me.
He pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth—a frustrated, angry, hungry kiss. When their lips parted, he kept his eyes closed, but she watched his forehead crease. “I have to go fix that damn shuttle,” he whispered, his face still close to hers. “I won’t see you again until… will you be here when I land?”
Disappointment punched her. He couldn’t say it. He didn’t love her.
“Ahem.” At the sound of the obvious intrusion, she spun around. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Jess.”
Sunglasses hid his expression, but she recognized the admonition in Bill Dugan’s voice.
* * *
Jessica jerked away from Deke and immediately regretted it. Damn Bill Dugan. What the hell was someone from Ross & Clayton doing here and why did he show up at the most critical moment of her life?
Deke must have read it as a cue, because he stepped two feet away from her. “I’ve got to go, Jess.”
He started walking toward the parking lot. She fought the urge to scream and run after him and kick Bill in the shins on the way. She was sick of hiding her feelings for this man.
Bill adjusted his sunglasses as he approached her and Deke disappeared around the building.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“What you are doing here is a far more interesting question,” he said with a sneer. “Pretty cozy with a client, Jess.”
The adrenaline in her veins changed to hot lava and threatened to spew at him in the form of frustrated, angry words. “I was having a private conversation,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Then you should have had it in private,” he shot back. “Not on a pavilion in full view of NASA Headquarters and Colonel Price.”
Damn, he was right.
“Are you here for the launch?” she asked, trying to control the temper that still bubbled at the sight of him.
“Among other things, yes. I started hearing some rumors and thought I might come down and check things out. Evidently they were true.”
“Yes,” she let the hiss stay in her voice. “They are true.”
“Bad form, Jess.” Bill put his hands in his pockets. “I hope it’s not serious.”
Based on the conversation she just had? Hard to say. A breeze took a pass at Jessica’s hair, a strand flipping over her face and, she hoped, covering her pained expression. “Why?”
“Tony told me that you’re anxious to get home. I agreed to step into this assignment and relieve you.”
A wave of resentment crashed inside her as she crossed her arms for stability and stared at him. “What?”
“You told Tony weeks ago you wanted to leave. When I heard the, uh, rumors about your situation here, I told him that was probably the best thing for the agency. He agreed.”
“Colonel Price has requested that I stay for the launch and I intend to accommodate that request.” She started to walk by Bill, clinging to her composure. “I’ll call Tony right now.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned. “He’s pretty ticked about the hanky-panky with your client. Push him any further and you’re liable to be job hunting.”
She spun on her heel and slapped her hand on a concrete table, the birds scattering and her flesh stinging. “No! I will stay here for the launch and finish what I started. I have a commitment to NASA and this may come as a shock to you, but I care about this launch and these… people.”
“That much was obvious.”
“All of these people,” she said, gesturing around her. “What I don’t care about is you or Tony or the rules and regulations of Ross & Clayton.”
“Then you don’t care about your job.”
“Not that one. I care about this one.” She pointed a finger toward the launch pad in the distance. “That’s all that matters to me now.”
She ignored Bill’s stunned expression and began to walk toward the press facility.
She had to call Newsweek. She had to help with the media. It was all she knew how to do and she had to do her part to make this mission a success. Not her original mission. The real mission.
Only then would she leave. When she got home, she might have to figure out how to live without Deke Stockard, but she’d do it knowing she did everything possible for them to succeed.
Chapter Twenty-four
Arriving at the press viewing area two hours before lift-off, Jessica paused to drink in the sight of the brilliantly lit shuttle atop a gentle cloud of steam, poised for its venture into space. Only three miles away, she stood at the closest point
any non-essential person could be to a launch. She could clearly see the outline of the external fuel tank, the rocket boosters coupled tightly with the orbiter itself and the complex, towering mass of metal that was the connecting gantry. It was breathtaking and awe-inspiring. And terrifying.
She knew Deke and the four other astronauts had already been dusted and dressed in the brilliant orange protective gear, crossed the catwalk, and buckled in to monitor the computer and video screens.
The sky, although still black and starry, was clear with an air temperature of an unusually warm sixty-two degrees. Since all the landing sites had good weather, the only possibilities for a delay were the innumerable technical and computer difficulties that so many launches encountered. The launch window was short, just under eight minutes, and they couldn’t miss it. A rescheduled flight wasn’t an option on this mission.
The loudspeakers played the audio feed from Launch and Mission Control communicating with the shuttle. Periodically, the muffled, microphoned voice of the man she loved broke through the static as he responded in terse monotone to instructions from the launch manager.
She hadn’t heard his voice for two days. Since Friday morning, when they talked on the pavilion, he had been immersed in non-stop, last-minute training.
Each time she heard him on the speaker, her heart constricted and she gazed toward the sight of the illuminated launch pad. There he was, ready to take off, ready to save someone’s life. She quaked inside.
She thought of Valerie and Jack Stockard in the VIP viewing area on top of the Launch Control Center. They were the only other people here who could love Deke as much as she did, who could care as deeply.
By four thirty that morning, her nerves frayed and ready to snap, Jessica sipped a warm cup of tea and stepped away from the hordes of reporters.
A moment later, Stuart stood next to her. He put his arm around her and the brotherly gesture nearly brought her to tears. “I know you well enough by now to try and help you.”