life.
Gripping the notebook, Molly nodded and managed a slight smile. “The last couple of months have been all of that and more,” she admitted wryly.
“You always drop things when you’re in a clinch?”
His voice was hard again. Molly nodded. “I thought when I grew up, I’d leave the bumping and running into things behind. I guess I’m a born klutz.”
Her honesty unstrung him. Cam stared down at Molly, noticing every nuance. Her blond hair was fine, reminding him of spun sunlight. The lashes framing her eyes were long and curly. She wore no makeup, yet her lovely sculptured lips were cherry red. Her skin was flawless and velvety. The urge to reach out and brush her fiery-colored cheek was very real. Cam ruthlessly squashed the idiotic yearning.
Abruptly he turned away. “I’ve got work to do,” he informed her gruffly. “And to answer your question, the library is open to everyone. It’s not considered off-limits to students at any time.” Molly Rutledge was, indeed, a cream puff. And—God help him—he felt protective of her. What would happen when Martin or another of the test-pilot students blamed her for his poor grades? How could she possibly stand up to the withering cross fire that took place in a flight debriefing?
Feeling as if she’d proved to Sinclair that she was a loser, Molly turned and went back to her desk. As quietly as possible, she packed her books into her huge black leather briefcase and prepared to leave. Sinclair seemed to want to be alone, she thought. She felt like an intruder in his space, his territory. Dejectedly, Molly walked to the door.
“Good night, Captain Sinclair,” she said softly.
Cam looked up, her contralto voice moving through him like a warm memory of happier times, of times he knew would never again come into his life. “Good night, Ensign Rutledge.”
With a small sigh, Molly left. Outside in the hall, she stopped and took a deep breath. She’d felt eviscerated by his opaque gaze. She was a klutz, incapable of being calm and in control during a critical situation. Would Sinclair talk about her to the other instructors? Would they get a good laugh out of her clownlike antics in the classroom and library? Turning, she walked down the empty hall, no longer hungry, just sorely disappointed with herself.
Chapter Three
Molly was in the computer room, working on her very first flight test at one of the many terminals. Lieutenant Norton wasted no time getting his students busy programming. The large room had a tile floor, blue walls and overhead fluorescent lights that bothered Molly’s eyes. Every chance she got, she took the ream of papers spewed out by the printer into the library and worked on her budding flight test there, instead.
Without fail, TPS closed at 2100 every night. Only the instructors had keys to the massive facility. Once students left, they couldn’t reenter the building until 0600 the next morning when the instructor on duty reopened it. A number of other flight-engineering students shared the computer room with Molly, working laboriously at their terminals until 1700, chow time.
Left alone, Molly worked through dinner, time slipping away from her. It was Thursday, and she knew that test-pilot students would be assigned to them. Molly only hoped Chuck Martin wouldn’t be assigned to her. Obviously he hated her with a passion. Every time he saw her in the hall or in an adjacent classroom, he’d glare ominously. Not wanting to feed the flames of animosity, Molly refused to react at all.
The glass door to the computer room opened and closed. Molly sat at the terminal desk, calculator in hand, rerunning her mathematical figures to compute with the variable of the F-14 Tomcat fighter, which would be utilized in her particular test. It was a simple test in her estimation, getting her used to folding in knowledge of aerodynamics with edge-of-the-envelope testing on this particular aircraft. All Norton wanted from her was a series of high-altitude climbs, leveling off the plane and utilizing degrees of climb.
“Rutledge?”
Molly cringed inwardly. She’d recognize Martin’s grating voice anywhere. Lifting her head, she saw his angry features shadowed under the harsh lighting. He stood imperiously, hands on his hips, while he glared down at her.
“Yes, Lieutenant Martin?”
“You see the pair-up list?”
Molly hesitated. “You mean who we fly with?”
“Hell, yes. That list, Rutledge!”
“Lieutenant, there’s no need to shout. Obviously, you’re upset about something.”
His nostrils flaring, Martin jabbed his finger in her direction. “Damn straight, I am. You’re assigned to me for the first test flight on Wednesday.”
Molly saw the door open, and Cam Sinclair silently enter the room. Her lips parted, and she looked between the two men. Cam stood just inside the door, poised and listening. Evidently, Martin hadn’t noticed his entrance. “I don’t make up the schedule, Lieutenant Martin,” Molly said without rancor.
“You’re the last person I want to fly with, Rutledge. You’re a woman. You can’t possibly have a handle on testing.” He gestured violently toward the printout sheets surrounding her. “Paper chase, that’s all you’re playing, and at my expense. Within a month, you’ll be out of here. You aren’t qualified to be a flight engineer in any way, shape or form. The whole damn thing’s a sham, and I’m gonna pay for it!”
Cam’s eyes narrowed as he heard the anger in Martin’s lowered voice. His glance flicked to Molly. All week, he’d tried avoiding her. It had been nearly impossible. Curious how she would handle Martin’s second attack, Cam stood quietly, his arms folded across his chest. Molly knew he was there. Would she alert Martin? If she were smart, she wouldn’t. Let Martin tip his hand. Still, Molly ought to be standing up and defending herself better. Sitting at the desk, her blond hair in mild disarray, she looked like a college ingenue, not an engineer.
“Lieutenant, I’m sorry you feel that way,” Molly stated quietly.
“My career hinges on you!” Martin exploded in exasperation. “You don’t get it, do you? Hell, you can get knocked up, have a kid and get out. Me, I’ve gotta stick around. Flying is my whole life. You see this as some kind of game that can be played while it’s easy, knowing you can walk away from it any time you damn well please.”
Molly saw Sinclair’s face remain passive. Wasn’t he going to interfere? And then she realized he wasn’t, because this was her fight. “I can assure you, Lieutenant, the Navy is my career, too,” Molly said determinedly. “I just survived four years at Annapolis on my own merits. And as for getting pregnant and asking for a medical discharge, that’s not in my plans. I’m here because I want to be a good flight engineer. Why can’t we throw down the red flag and be friends? We’re bound to work together sooner or later.”
“Yeah, well, I guess it’s sooner. Someone at TPS has got it in for me. I suppose you went to your ‘significant other’ and complained, and that’s why I got it in the neck with this flight assignment.”
Molly refused to get angry. “I don’t have a ‘significant other’ here at TPS, Lieutenant,” she said coolly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do—and so do you.”
Martin cursed and his hand snaked out. He gripped her shoulder.
Molly
