The Right Stuff. Lori WildeЧитать онлайн книгу.
weeks.”
“Two weeks!”
“A minor inconvenience.” Grayson waved a hand, dismissing his objections as if batting away a fly. “The main thing is to keep her out of trouble.”
“Trouble?”
His superior officer shifted, looked uncomfortable. “She’s got a flamboyant reputation.”
Daniel glowered. “How so?”
Grayson shrugged. “General Miller said something about media controversy involving her last project. Again, I don’t know the details. But we need to keep a tight lid on her visit.”
Daniel blew out his breath, shook his head. “I wish I could help you, sir, but if you recall I’ll be in Moron, Spain, next week on launch day running the TAL disaster drill.”
“I know. That’s the main reason I need you and not anyone else,” Grayson said, smiling for the first time since Daniel had come into the room. “First of all, you’re discreet. Second, it’s the perfect solution. Get her out of the country while seeming to give her what she wants.”
“She’s going to want to be at the Cape for the Atlantis launch, sir, not at some TAL site.”
“Then it’s up to you to convince her it’s better to be at Moron during the launch than here.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“You’re smart and you can be charming. You figure it out.”
“I don’t like this,” Daniel grumbled.
“But you’ll do it?” Grayson’s eyes drilled into him.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Depends on how badly you want my job.”
Daniel glared. “I’ve worked damned hard for this promotion. This isn’t fair.”
“No,” Grayson said glibly. “This is the Air Force.”
TAYLOR MILTON couldn’t stop grinning as she drove her rented silver convertible 911 Turbo Porsche toward Cape Canaveral. General Charles Miller, her late father’s best friend since high school, had come through for her in a big way.
Just thinking about how she was going to have access to top-gun pilots, shuttle astronauts and sexy Air Force flight surgeons sent a shiver of delight down her spine. This in-depth research was bound to make her planned fourth fantasy resort—Out of this World Lovemaking—a smashing success.
She turned on the radio, flipped through the stations, caught the refrain from a long-ago song and her fingers froze on the button.
“Unchained Melody.”
The song that had been playing at the sixties-themed campus mixer when she and Daniel had first laid eyes on each other.
Their song.
Not terribly original, she supposed. “Unchained Melody” was a lot of people’s song, but not among her peer group. The haunting tune jettisoned her back thirteen years.
In her mind’s eye, she saw Daniel the way he’d looked as a newly minted Air Force second lieutenant. Young, earnest and tender, but at the same time, he’d possessed a powerful, commanding presence. Daniel had been tall, muscular, built like a firefighter. Dark hair, startlingly blue eyes, broad shoulders, washboard abs. She wondered if he was still as fit and trim.
He hadn’t been at all like any of the other young men she’d dated: reckless, randy, cavorting, out for nothing but a good time. He’d been serious, dedicated, focused and principled. Little had she guessed that the qualities in him she admired the most would spell the end of their love affair.
When she was dreaming up ideas for her new resort, she’d asked herself what it was that she personally found sexy, and a full-on visual of Daniel—and the way he’d looked coming out of his military uniform—had gobsmacked her.
Military men were sexy. Doctors were sexy. Astronauts were sexy. Why not combine all three? Feature military doctors and the test pilots and the astronauts they cared for. Once that idea hit, she knew she had to do her research at Patrick Air Force base and the Kennedy Space Station at Cape Canaveral. Hence the call to her godfather, General Charles Miller, known to her as Uncle Chuck.
Taylor pushed a hand through her wind-tousled hair and took the freeway off ramp. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering about Daniel. Had he achieved his dream of becoming a doctor? Was he still in the military? Knowing his family and Daniel’s desire to follow in their traditional footsteps, she imagined that was the case.
The memories came flooding back and for a quick second her throat tightened as she thought of how she’d once loved him so desperately. She tasted the memory of their courtship, sweet and rich and intense. A vision of their second date flashed through her mind. He’d taken her to an upscale restaurant he could ill afford simply because he wanted to impress her.
Even now, the endearing gesture made her throat tighten.
The waiter had stashed them into a corner of the candlelit French restaurant. She’d found a small bouquet of red-and-white spider lilies on the linen-draped table, sweetening the air with an anise-scented prickle. He’d ordered for them both, choosing fennel-scented crab cake appetizers and filet mignon with duchess potatoes for the main meal.
Funny, she could still remember that meal and she couldn’t remember what she’d had for dinner the night before.
Their hands had brushed as they’d both reached for the bread basket filled with yeasty multi-grain rolls. He’d stared into her eyes, filling her with molten heat. That look had cinched the deal. She was hungry and for far more than food.
For dessert, they’d shared an oozy chocolate soufflé with Obuse wine, a wickedly delicious dessert port recommended by the wine steward. It was only then that she learned he rarely drank alcohol and he’d quickly gotten tipsy on chocolate and Obuse. She’d taken his keys, driven him back to his apartment and stayed the night.
Quickly, she batted the thoughts away. Not love, no. Just the ridiculous infatuation of a college girl.
She remembered how he’d kissed her that evening. Hard and passionate, full of yearning and desire. Daniel had kissed the way heroes kissed in the old movies her father loved. Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh. Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr.
Movies from a bygone era had been her main connection to her father. At least in the early years, before his commuter airline—Milton Air—had grown to consume all his time. “I work so much because I love you so much,” he’d told her. “It’s all for you.” She supposed it was where she’d gotten her flair for the dramatic, her love of daydreams and fantasies.
“This was the golden age of filmmaking,” her father would tell her, when she was a little girl in pigtails. She’d snuggle up in his lap in the private screening room he’d built in their home back before such things were popular among people who could afford them. Her father’s valet, Mr. McGulicutty would thread the film projector, and Agnes, the cook would make buttered popcorn. “Casablanca was your mother’s favorite movie.”
Her mother had died giving birth to her at age fortytwo. Her father had been just shy of fifty. Bringing Taylor into the world had cost Lily Milton her life. But her father had never once made her feel as if she was to blame. Taylor, however, couldn’t escape the knowledge that by being born she’d caused her mother’s death.
“Why couldn’t Rick and Elsa be together, Daddy?” she always asked at the end of Casablanca. “They loved each other so much.”
“That’s exactly why they couldn’t be together,” he’d say. Then he would kiss the top of her head and get a faraway look in his eyes. “When you love that deeply, you’ll sacrifice for the other person’s happiness. Even if it means that you have to be unhappy. That’s real love, when