peacefulness of the sunset muted all her suspicions as she saw awe written across his features. He was just as moved as she was. A small smile curved her lips.
“This is my favorite time of day,” she confided softly, returning her attention to the sky.
“Mine too. That and dawn. I like to see the colors on the horizon. Best time to fly.”
She felt totally at ease with Bram. Four days had worked miracles in dispelling their initial distrust of each other. There was a tender look in his eyes right now. Storm liked the feeling swirling and building quietly between them, a sharing of something far greater than themselves. The apricot hue deepened to an incredible orange that grew paler as it reached toward the darkening cobalt sky.
Bram glanced down at Storm. Her profile was clean, and her skin had a glow to it. There was a faraway look on her face now, and he longed to reach out and touch her. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes wide, as she continued to watch the spectacle. They stood in silence another ten minutes before he spoke.
“I’ve been trying to find some time today to talk with you alone, Storm,” he said, turning toward her.
Her heart catapulted as he called her by her first name. It rolled off his tongue like a caress, and she responded effortlessly to the tone in his voice. But she also heard the seriousness of it and faced him, a mere twelve inches separating them. Looking guilelessly up into his features, she searched his darkened blue eyes.
“About what?”
“You don’t play games, do you?”
Her brows drew downward. “Games? No. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
He shook his head. “No.” He scratched his head furtively, looking toward the sunset again. “I’m having one hell of a time relating to you, Storm. You’re not like the women I know. Or have known. They’re into their cute, coy games. They don’t come out and say what they really feel.” He gave her a rueful smile. “You come off differently.”
Storm felt defensive about his assessment, crossing her arms. “That doesn’t make me any less a woman, you know.”
He raised his eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way. No, you’re a woman in or out of a flight suit; believe me,” he said fervently. Then he grinned. “The touch you have with a helo is a woman’s touch, not a man’s.”
“Flying is a matter of finesse and sensitivity, not brute strength,” she reminded him.
He held up his hands. “I agree. Listen, we’re getting off track, Storm. I need to say something to you,”
She licked her lips, preparing for the worst. “Okay. I always want honesty between us, Gallagher. Even if it hurts, I want the truth.”
Placing his hands on his hips, he looked down at the concrete between them for a long moment. Finally he raised his head, an undecipherable expression in his eyes as he met her gaze. “First, I owe you a genuine apology for the way I behaved that first afternoon we pulled alert. I don’t normally go around accusing women of going to bed with men.” He grimaced, finding it hard to put the rest of it into words because of the avalanche of emotion boiling up within him. “Last Friday, before I left Mobile, Alabama, to move down here, I got my finalized divorce papers.” He lowered his gaze, pursing his lips. “A two-day drive down here plus the bitterness of the divorce has made me a little sour on women. And when I met you Sunday and realized it was going to be a woman breaking me into SAR, I damn near came unglued.” His blue eyes grew softer as he searched her stunned features. “I was angry at my ex-wife, and I lashed out at you instead, Storm. You represented all women to me in that moment and how much they can hurt a man.”
Storm cleared her throat, unable to maintain his gaze. “I see…” she whispered. Tears came to her eyes, and it surprised her. Why tears? Her heart contracted with pain for him. “Under the circumstances, I guess I can’t blame you for your actions, Bram. I probably would have done something quite similar.”
A slight smile edged his sensual mouth. “I’m finding out all kinds of good things about you, Storm Travis. You stand up for what you believe in, but you’re equally forgiving of others’ mistakes. That’s a nice attribute.”
She shivered inwardly as his voice soothed her. Tears stung her eyes and she turned away from him. Was she going to cry? My God! “In the past year, I’ve found out just how human I am,” she admitted rawly. Rubbing her brow, she managed a small broken laugh. “Just one thing…”
Bram cocked his head, watching her profile silhouetted against the darkening horizon. “Name it.”
“Be just as forgiving with me, Bram. I—I’m kind of on an emotional roller coaster right now because—of, well, circumstances. I might shout at you when we’re in the cockpit together, or—”
He reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder, turning her toward him. It startled him to realize that her dove-gray eyes were filled with tears, making them appear luminous and vulnerable. He wanted to keep his hand on her shoulder but allowed it to drop to his side instead.
“We got off on the wrong foot the other day because of my attitude, Storm,” he told her earnestly. “You showed your professionalism with me, regardless of how badly I made an ass of myself. You didn’t let your personal opinion of me interfere with teaching me the ropes. You’ve earned a big chunk of my respect. I’ll never lose my temper with you when you get a little out of sorts.”
A quivering smile fled across her lips. His touch had been healing and stabilizing to her torn emotional state. Storm longed to have him put his hand on her once again, to simply step into the circle of his arms. She had been a year without any kind of emotional support—bereft, floating aimlessly. And she yearned for what Bram offered honestly and without games. A newfound respect shone in her eyes for him.
“Okay,” she murmured huskily, “truce?”
“Truce,” Bram promised thickly.
Three
The Q, the barracks for pilots on alert, consisted of two double bunks to a room in a two-story structure. On retiring to their rooms, the pilots unlaced their boots and left them nearby in case the duty officer called on two or more of them to assist in a search and rescue mission. The room at the end of the hall was a large lounge sporting several comfortable sofas and chairs gathered around a color TV set. Storm had her boots off, dangling her long legs over the arm of the chair. It was almost ten P.M. and she dozed intermittently, the television blaring in the background, providing the stabilizing sound of human voices.
One by one, the on-duty pilots called it a night. Storm was afraid to go to bed. This was her first night back on duty since the loss of Dave Walker. She had been placed on nonduty status and given time to recover from the emotional shock and loss. It was the normal procedure after air crashes or traumatic circumstances. Kyle rosé and walked over under Bram’s watchful eye, his hands resting on each arm of the chair as he stared down at her.
“Okay, Stormie?” he asked in a low voice.
She nodded, barely opening her eyes. “Yeah, fine, Kyle.”
“Sure?”
Kyle knew what she was going through. They had been close friends since she had first been assigned to SAR. “Yeah…” she mumbled, her arms
