doors whooshed open to the first-floor hallway, and Molly followed Scott out of the elevator. As always, the highly polished oak floors and the expensive oil paintings lining the walls, made the place look more like a museum than a home.
“Scott, haven’t you found anything that interests you yet?”
“Your continuing saga in the Navy is what interests me, Molly. I really enjoy your letters. You’re a great chronicler. I read and reread them, and then I call my friends and relay your stories.”
Molly winced. She ached for Scott, who still felt guilty over having driven that fateful night. The accident wouldn’t have happened if Scott hadn’t been drunk. Luckily, he was the only one who’d been hurt.
She patted her brother on the shoulder and said, “I still think you ought to get interested in something other than my less-than-glorious naval career,” she teased.
“Naw. You’re the highlight of my life, Molly. You know that.”
Molly’s fingers tightened momentarily on Scott’s shoulder. Her thoughts moved ahead, to entering the test-pilot school’s doors, in spite of her apprehension at potentially failing her family again. But Molly dreaded her stay with her family. Her new training program couldn’t come a moment too soon.
* * *
Dressed in his olive-green flight suit—his favorite uniform because it was loose and comfortable—Captain Cameron Sinclair sat at his desk muddling through the stack of mandatory paperwork that always materialized when a new class of students started TPS. He glanced out the window of his office.
The June morning was beautiful at 0800. Cam had been at work for two hours already. Frowning, he laid down his pen and thought of his wife, Jeanne, and their son, Sean. Even now, he remembered the exact number of days, hours and minutes since they’d died. One year. Twelve of the worst months of his life. Picking up the pen, he ran his fingers absently along its smooth lines.
Depression had become a familiar friend. He knew fellow instructors called him “the Glacier” behind his back. But why should he smile and joke when it was the last thing he felt like doing? They had loved ones to go home to every night, while his apartment was huge and empty. As empty as his heart felt.
The parking lot was to the left of his office, and Cam noticed a tall, slender woman getting out of a gray station wagon. She was wearing a light blue Navy summer-uniform skirt and blouse. He lifted his chin, interested, the pressure on his heart lessening slightly. It had to be their woman student, Ensign Molly Rutledge.
Cam watched her leave the parking lot and make her way up the sidewalk to the doors of TPS. His office sat just to the left of the doors, so he had an unobstructed view of her progress.
The sun filtered through her loose blond hair, which glinted with gold highlights. She was decidedly feminine, Cam thought. She wore her garrison cap at an angle, her bangs pushed to one side to allow it to sit on her brow. Cam was struck by the serenity of her face, and unexpectedly, the cabin in the Smoky Mountains where he used to spend time with his family came to mind.
Her eyes were green, like the light of the sun shining through the leaves of trees along the trails they used to hike. Or were they gold and blue, reminding him of the sun high in the sky? Cam couldn’t be sure. He’d have to get a much closer look. One thing, he thought, taking a deep breath, Molly Rutledge was pretty in a clean-cut sense. Her face was smooth and nearly symmetrical. Her blond brows were slightly arched, emphasizing her wide, alert eyes. Her nose was small and straight.
Cam shook himself. As a test pilot, he was used to making minute observations. Now he was taking Molly apart with the same sort of appraisal, but he wasn’t retaining his usual objectivity. He hadn’t felt anything since his family’s death, so why was his heart thundering in his chest? As she drew closer, Cam saw that despite her regulation low black heels, Molly’s legs looked slender. His eyes narrowed in appreciation.
When his gaze settled on her mouth, he felt himself tighten in physical reaction. Her lips were delicately shaped, as if by a master artist. Cam found himself wanting to reach out and touch that soft, gentle mouth to see if it was real or just a figment of his fevered imagination.
Whenever a new class arrived at TPS, Cam secretly labeled each student with a name that embodied that person in his mind. And using that intuition, he was usually correct about who would and who would not graduate. Molly was tall, like a reed giving and bending in the wind. She was all grace and femininity. None of those attributes would serve her well at TPS, he thought sadly. What was needed was bullheadedness, strength, endurance and plenty of machismo.
Unable to tear his gaze away, Cam shook his head as she approached the door, her black purse hanging from her left shoulder and her records in her right hand. “You’re a gossamer angel ready to enter hell,” he muttered. “This place chews men up and destroys them on a regular basis.”
His words sank into the silence of his office as he watched Molly disappear inside the doors. A part of him wanted to jump up and go meet her in the foyer. She’d be looking for the commandant’s office, and he could point it out to her. Suddenly the need to meet Molly Rutledge ate at him, and, startled, Cam digested the unexpected feelings. Was he alive, after all?
The discovery was pulverizing to Cam, and he sat there, absorbing the fact of his reawakening emotions. He heard voices in the hall beside his office. Her voice. It was muted, so he couldn’t make out the exact conversation. Stymied, he shook his head. Cam was a test-pilot instructor; Molly would be assigned to First Lieutenant Vic Norton, the flight-engineer instructor.
“Lucky bastard,” Cam said to no one in particular, and looked back down at the work on his desk.
So what name would he give her? “Angel” was certainly appropriate: soft, gentle and serene. Molly floated, she didn’t walk; there was such grace in her movements. Muttering to himself, Cam grimaced. How had she stolen into his work? Okay, so he’d call her Angel. She’d never know it, and certainly no one else would.
Cam sighed. A sad smile shadowed his features. Angels wouldn’t make the grade at TPS. It would be a mere matter of weeks before pretty Molly Rutledge would be politely asked to leave. As Cam forced himself to mind his own business, his heart still twinged at the thought of the brutal demands that would be placed upon his angel.
Chapter Two
“So, you’re the woman we’ve all heard about.”
Molly turned on her heel at the grate of words flung in her direction. She stared up into the dark features of a tall Navy officer, his sandy hair cut short. Molly stepped back from his overpowering presence. He stood glaring down at her, his hands resting imperiously on his hips while he sized her up. In his flight uniform adorned with patches from his F-14 Tomcat fighter squadron, he was all warrior.
“Yes, I’m Molly Rutledge.”
“Ensign Rutledge,” he sneered, not offering his hand. “The name’s Martin. Lieutenant Chuck Martin. I’m a TPS candidate. When I got here yesterday and they told me a broad was going to try and make it through as a flight-test engineer, I thought they were joking.” His brows dipped. “Are you serious about this? A man could’ve had your slot.”
Molly stood in the hall, her books in hand. She’d just finished seeing the commandant and was on her way to the women’s locker room at the other end of the building. Martin was hovering
