Untamed Desire (4 page)

“Tell me,” he said softly, “with a temper like yours, how did your marriage last four years?”

Storm looked up, stunned by his warm tone. “What?”

“Your ex-husband must have been one of two things. Either he was a metrosexual or he railroaded you until you started fighting back. Which was it?”

She put down her fork, wiping her mouth and watching him warily. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m interested in what makes you tick, that’s all.”

She considered the comment, studying him like a mongoose watches a King Cobra ready to strike. If she trusted her instinct, he was sincere. But until now, they’d disagreed at every turn. How could he possibly be interested in her?

“Good guess. It was the second one,” she admitted, and then turned her attention back to the salad, uncomfortable at his ability to figure her out.

“You remind me of a sleek air force jet, so much volatile, deadly power. The wrong kind of pressure on the stick will cause it to destroy itself,” he said equably.

“Thanks—I think.”

Jim smiled. “Hey, that was a compliment. Not everyone can fly a jet. It’s a delicate, fragile instrument armed with massive engines and unbelievable power. You’re the same way. I can see where most men would either be destroyed by your energy or they’d try to break your spirit. “His voice lowered, and he reached across the table to take her hand. “A man shouldn’t have to break your spirit to tame you.”

Storm could only stare wordlessly across at him, her heart pounding. An ache was forming in her throat, and she swallowed hard, fighting back sudden tears.

Jim leaned back, quietly assessing her mobile features. “Did he abuse you?”

Storm’s lips tightened, and she fought hard against the tears she refused to let fall. “Stop asking me personal questions,” she whispered painfully.

Jim shook his head and sat up, holding her shadowed blue eyes with his own. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to do this to you. I only wanted to try to figure out why you’re so damn hostile.”

“I suppose you’re a qualified therapist, too,” she hurled back bitterly.

He managed a half smile. “Despite some opinions to the contrary, I think I’ve got a pretty good bedside manner. I make it my business to know my pilots, and right now you’re one of them. I have to know ahead of time how you’ll react under stressful situations, that’s all.”

Stunned by his cool appraisal, Storm realized she had completely lost her appetite. “You remind me of a surgeon who cuts up people just to see how they tick. That’s horrible.”

“There you go again,” he said. “Don’t think it’s fun for me to sit here and watch you on the verge of tears because I blundered on the truth.

“I’m sorry.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Here—your mascara will run if you don’t dry your eyes.”

Storm blinked, forcing the tears away. She took the handkerchief and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t meant to cry. What was it about Jim Talbot that touched her heart? The main course arrived, and they fell silent until the waiter left. Jim began cracking crab legs methodically. He looked up at her.

“You better eat.”

She made a face. “I’m not very hungry.”

He sighed deeply and studied her for a long moment. “Look, there are going to be times in the next three months when you will be plenty upset, but you’ll have to eat. Hunting season is the worst for us pilots and the medical team. We’ll be operating on just four-to-six hours of sleep a night. You have to learn to eat on the run. Now, come on, get a little nourishment into you. You’re pale as hell.”

She looked down at the steaming orange-and-white crab legs. The odor made her mouth water, but her stomach was still tight from their previous conversation. Yet she allowed herself to be moved by the concern in his voice and hesitantly began digging for the succulent, sweet meat of one large leg. Storm knew that if he had taken any other tack with her, she would have balked like a stubborn donkey and refused. He had handled her as delicately as that jet aircraft he had talked about earlier, and it left her breathless with amazement and wanting to know more about him.

Their motel was a sumptuous three-story building near a large inland lake. Dan Bradford may have wanted them to watch their expenses, but he did have a taste for elegance. She followed Jim out of the elevator on the third floor and waited for him to unlock her door.

“It’s all yours. Go ahead and get your beauty sleep. I’ll make sure Rickson’s gear is stowed aboard the plane tomorrow.”

Storm frowned. “And I suppose you’ll tell Dan that I couldn’t do my share of work down here, and that will be the first black mark against me. No thanks, Talbot. I’m going with you.” She brushed past him.

Suddenly, she found herself being spun around. Storm gasped, her hands coming to rest against Jim’s broad chest. His fingers were gentle about her arms as he leaned down, anger flashing in his gray eyes.

“What’s the matter with you, Reynolds? Can’t you take a little pampering from a man?” His breath was warm and moist against her face, and her heart raced.

She tried to struggle free, but his grip tightened. “Let me go.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered harshly.

She stood within his grasp, her blue eyes wide with disbelief. His grip relaxed, and his hands moved to her shoulders, resting there.

“Look, it’s my way of apologizing for upsetting you earlier. You look tired, and I pushed you too hard about your past.” His hands fell from her and he straightened. “I’ve got to watch what I say to you. I can see that. But let’s get this straight, Storm. I’m not going to deliberately try to make you look bad. I would never do that.” His features clouded as he watched her. “Learn to trust me.”

His nearness was overwhelming, and she had to step away from his tense, hard body. Her eyes glinted with hurt. “Trust you?” Her voice went low with feeling. “When you’re after my job? Tell me, how can I trust you?”

Jim ran his hand through his hair in a distracted motion. “Okay, okay, you have a point. Damn, you’re sensitive!”

“Well, you’ve made me that way!” she flung back. She didn’t want to cry again. Not in front of him! She bit down on her lower lip.

Jim’s features softened. “I’ll try very hard to change your opinion of me. For now, get some sleep. I’ll meet you in the dining room for breakfast at 5:30. a.m. Good night.”

STORM WAS AWAKENED
at one o’clock in the morning by noise in the corridor outside her room. Loud whoops and the squeal of several women made her sit up. She frowned, rubbing her eyes. The din continued even when the noisemakers seemed to have gone into one of the rooms. Finally, she decided further sleep was impossible.

After pulling on a pair of comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved sweater, Storm slipped into a light wool jacket and peeked out the door. It was momentarily empty of the merrymakers, and she walked silently down the exit stairs. Jamming her hands into the jacket pockets, she saw that she had to walk by the bar area in order to get to the front door, which led to the lakefront. The music was raucous and hurt her ears. A few members of Rickson’s group sat at a table, all slumped happily over glasses. Storm caught sight of Jim Talbot and instantly froze. What was he doing here? But that was really none of her business, she admonished herself, and hurried outside and down to the edge of the lake.

The lapping water soothed Storm’s tattered nerves, and she breathed in deeply, pulling her jacket more tightly about her to ward off the dampness of the early morning. Overhead, scattered clouds shone clearly in the light of a full moon. She picked her way along the sandy shore, glad to be away from all the activity at the lively motel. Stopping, she found a delicate shell lodged in the sand and picked it up, rubbing her fingers over its smooth surface. She was so immersed in the sounds and smells of the lake that she didn’t hear the crunch of footsteps in the sand until she realized someone was standing just a few feet away from her.

Storm swung around with a soft gasp, her eyes wide with fright. At the sight of Jim Talbot, her startled expression vanished, and she frowned instead, putting her hands back in her pockets.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Jim smiled easily, his long-sleeved shirt rolled up to the elbows. He stood quietly staring at her. “You wouldn’t be saying that if it were Rickson or one of his bunch,” he chided.

Storm scuffed the toe of her shoe in the sand, confused by Jim’s easy, off-hand tone. His eyes were hooded and dark, and one corner of his mouth was pulled into a slight smile. He reminded her of a wolf who had sighted his prey and knew it was only a matter of time until he entrapped it.

“No, I’d probably be saying a few rough things to them,” she agreed, and then turned, continuing to walk slowly. Jim accompanied her, his shoulder barely inches from hers. Storm looked guardedly at him. “Why don’t you go back and join the clients? It looked like you were having fun.”

“Do I detect a note of accusation in your voice?” he teased.

“No.”

“Socializing is part of the job, you know.” He looked down at her meaningfully. “In order to keep the business, we have to mingle. You’ll have to do that, too.”

Storm’s nostrils flared, and her eyes flashed with anger. “Over my dead body! Dan Bradford never discussed such a thing with me!”

“There you go again, overreacting.” He laughed softly, and swung her around to face him. His hands rested casually on her shoulders, causing her flesh to tingle.

“Just what does ‘mingling’ mean?” she demanded.

“Having a few drinks, listening to their blarney, stroking their egos a bit and then gracefully excusing yourself.”

“Sure. And getting pawed or drooled on, too.”

Jim nodded thoughtfully. “Possibly. After all, hunters are accustomed to male pilots. We only have to laugh at their jokes, slap them on the back occasionally and drink a few beers. It’s hard to tell how they’ll react to an attractive single woman.” He frowned, studying her, then reaching up, smoothed a stray tendril of hair from her cheek with a wistful smile. “You know, even in this weak light you look beautiful. Your hair has gold highlights.”

Storm’s lips parted as his fingers trailed down her temple, caressing her cheek and then resting beneath her jaw. With a slight pressure, he raised her chin.

“Storm…” he said softly. “What a wanton, untamed name for you….” And he leaned down, his mouth resting caressingly against her lips. Gently, as if she were a rare, exotic flower, he tasted her full lips, parting them and exploring their shape. His hands came to rest on either side of her face, and he raised his head, his eyes dark. “You taste like wildflower honey,” he whispered huskily.

Her heart was beating erratically, and she felt her knees weaken as his mouth descended to her own a second time. Her hands instinctively sought the curve of his neck, her fingers curling into his hair. A delicious shudder heated her body as his tongue slowly stroked her sensitive lips, carefully avoiding her own tongue. A moan of pleasure reverberated through her as his exploratory kiss deepened, his tongue masterfully entwining with hers, his arms bringing her ever closer to him.

He groaned as Storm melted willingly, her thighs pressed against his steadying hips and erection. Her breath came in a light, shallow gasp as he dragged his mouth away from hers. His gray eyes burned with passion as he hungrily devoured her face.

“God,” he said thickly, “I want you….”

Storm’s heart was thundering, and she felt an awakening response deep within her, an ache he had sparked by that one, indelible kiss. She could only stare wordlessly up at him, watching his strong, generous mouth move with words that didn’t register on her dizzied senses. She heard him call her name and it sent shivers up her spine. She closed her eyes, unable to move away from him.

“I’ve never met a woman like you,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Your name…such a different, incredibly beautiful name.” His hand slid down to cup her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Where did you get that name? It’s enough to drive any man crazy with desire.”

Her lashes swept down across her high cheekbones like small fans against her ivory skin. “My father,” she choked softly. “He was a pilot for a commercial airline. One night he had to fly through a line of violent thunderstorms to get home. My mother was terribly worried, waiting for him at the airport.” Storm’s eyes grew large and liquid, and a smile trembled on her lips. “That was the night I was conceived, after he arrived home safely. I guess it was an unforgettable night for them.” Her voice had drifted into a hushed whisper.

Jim’s hands moved gently down the length of her back, sending shivers of delight through her, and she rested against him.

“An unforgettable name for an unforgettable woman,” he murmured.

Jim reluctantly pulled away and held her at arm’s length, studying her critically. “You’re a curse and a blessing to me, Storm.”

She tingled as he said her name, his deep voice simmering with barely checked passion. She was preoccupied with the sensations she was experiencing, and didn’t completely understand his words. Shaky and unsure of what had happened or why, she looked at him confusedly. Finally, she found her voice.

“I was one man’s curse, that’s enough. I only want my job and to do what I love best—fly.”

Jim let his hands drop away from her shoulders, and she stood alone. “A man who would see you as a curse has to be crazy. You just need care and tending…. You express every emotion in your face and eyes. I like that.” A smile curved his mouth. “Handle you properly, or you cloud up and get angry. Come on. It’s almost three o’clock,” he urged. “Rickson and his bunch ought to be sufficiently drunk to be in bed by now. Maybe we can catch a few hours’ sleep after all.” He pulled her close to his side and together they walked back to the motel.

At the door of her room, Jim stopped and shook his head, smiling ruefully. “You look good no matter how little sleep you’ve had…clear blue eyes with flecks of gold. Go on now, get in there before I lose all sense of responsibility for my actions.”

A lump of hurt formed in her throat, and Storm leaned against the door, her brows drawn into a frown. “Wait…Jim…I don’t understand this,” she began helplessly.

He reached out, caressing her cheek. “What?”

“You—the kiss…I mean…”

He grinned, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “This has got to be a first…you’re at a loss for words. My Irish storm goddess is speechless. I’ll remember this, you know. The next time you get angry, I’ll just kiss you.”

Storm managed a short laugh. He was teasing her, affectionately, not maliciously. Not abusively, as Jack had done to her. She avoided his eyes, unable to bear the tenderness that flickered in his gaze as he watched her struggle for words.

“One minute you’re trying to fire me, and the next—” she shrugged painfully “—the next you’re kissing me. You keep telling me I’m unpredictable and explosive. What about you?”

Jim leaned against the door, a loose, relaxed smile on his mouth once again. “It’s your fault, you know,” he teased, then sobered, catching her stare. “I can’t explain it either, Storm.” He shrugged and then straightened. “I didn’t plan it. In fact, I didn’t even want it to happen.”

Storm’s eyes widened.

Jim sighed. “But it did, and I’m not sorry about it. And I won’t promise it won’t happen again. We’re both paradoxes, Storm. You certainly are…at least to me…to my life…” He gave a forced laugh. “Everything was fine until you came into my office ready to blow up anybody who stood in your way. Well, here we are. Things are different…”

Without another word, he turned and walked down the corridor to his room. Opening the door, he gave Storm one last, distracted glance before disappearing inside.

Storm forced herself to move, to shakily dig the key out of the pocket of her jeans, turn it in the lock, and slip into her room. A tumble of confused thoughts and feelings assailed her as she slowly undressed and slipped into her black silk nightgown. She lay wide awake on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. How complicated her life had suddenly become.

Things were different, she decided as she carefully explored the feelings and emotions Jim Talbot had stirred up in her. Every time she recalled his voice, her heart felt as if it were about to burst with joy, until she forced cold reason to reassert itself. Finally, perplexed, exhausted and sensually disturbed, Storm dozed off, dreaming of Jim Talbot’s arms around her.

The first thing Jim muttered to her as they sat in the dining room over a cup of coffee the next morning was, “You don’t look like you were up half the night.”

Storm managed a weak smile and sipped the scalding drink. “I only got an hour’s sleep. How about you?”

“Not much more than you.”

“Want to flip a coin to see who flies us back to Anchorage?”

“I want you to do it. That way I can keep tabs on Rickson.”

She nodded, watching him over the rim of her cup. Was he acting differently this morning, or was she? Maybe she was too tired and just not reading him correctly. But every time his gaze met hers, her heart turned over in response, and she felt like a breathless girl of eighteen.

Jim’s fingers, tapered and strong, caressed the ceramic mug, and Storm imagined, with longing, his hands on her body. But another part of her, the wary woman of thirty-two who had paid the price of being married for four years, rebelled. Hadn’t she learned the hard way with Jack? Her stomach knotted and churned with bitterness. Trying very hard to see Jim Talbot as a disrupter of her well-planned life, Storm sought to erect a wall of defense against him, to quell her heart’s longings. But no matter how hard she tried, her unbridled heart was reaching out to him.

Grimly pressing her lips together, Storm set the cup down and looked expectantly at Jim. “Are we ready to get this show on the road?”

He raised his head with a puzzled look. “What? Oh, sure. You don’t want breakfast?”

“No, just coffee.”

He rose and dug out some change. “Okay, Irish storm goddess, let’s pray that Rickson and his bunch are still too hung over to be anything but groaning, middle-aged men.”

Minutes later, ensconced comfortably in the cabin of the Beech Queen and listening to the raucous laughter and lewd jokes of Nate Rickson and his friends, Storm cast a wry glance at Jim. “Looks like our prayers didn’t get answered,” she commented drily.

Jim snorted, opening a thermos and pouring them both some coffee. “I can see we don’t have any pull upstairs. Listen to them. Maybe we should have prayed to the house down below.”

Storm took the coffee, nodding. Rickson was enjoying a bawdy song, swinging his bottle of whiskey in tune with his comrades, clapping. If possible, his wide, flat nose was redder this morning. Storm leaned over and whispered in Jim’s ear, “He looks like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Do you think we could use him as a beacon if our lights fail?”

Jim grinned good-naturedly. “I’d like to tack his rear to the tail of the plane, anyway.”

Storm laughed, holding out her cup for a refill. She could picture Rickson pinned to the tail of the aircraft, like dirty laundry hung out to dry.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. Storm made a skillful three-point landing at Anchorage International Airport and taxied the Queen up to the now-familiar Bradford’s building. There the plane would be refueled, and then they would begin the last leg of the journey to Camp Five.

The sky was a turquoise-blue, with the wind coming out of the west at a good fifteen knots, putting a biting edge to it and increasing the wind-chill factor. Jim disembarked with most of the passengers, and Storm began the post-flight check, ignoring the hoots and hollers of the lingering hunters.

“Hey, sweetie…”

She jerked around as a strong hand gripped her shoulder. Rickson leered down at her, his breath heavy with the smell of whiskey.

“Been watchin’ ya and we think you got class. Real class.” He grinned, massaging her arm in a circular motion.

Storm scowled, her face paling with anger. The cockpit was small, certainly no place for a wrestling match. Yanking away from him, she twisted around so that her back was against the steering yolk. “Get the hell out of here, Rickson,” she snarled.

His eyes crinkled and watered, and he smiled rakishly, reaching out to touch her again. “Ah, sweetie, I know you’re playin’ hard to get. But c’mon, give Ricky and his bunch a break. Wouldn’t you like to spend a week out at Camp Five with us instead of playin’ pilot?”