DAR GLANCED OUTSIDE at the gray sky as the plane taxied, seeing the lash of rain against the small, squared oval window, and sighed. It had been a long flight, since the weather front had forced their plane to circle for thirty minutes before it finally landed at Dulles, and she felt an intense need to stretch and move around inside the small, cramped cabin. As the plane nudged up to the gate, she released her seatbelt and stood, glad she was, at least, at the front of the plane and near the exit. She opened the overhead and tugged down her jacket, then pulled her laptop case from the bin and settled it over her shoulder.
The door opened, letting in a blast of wet, cold air, and she shivered in reflex, pulling the jacket closer and zipping it before she nodded pleasantly to the steward and exited the craft, heading up the walkway towards the terminal. She’d gotten three steps past the door when she spotted the waiting Jack and had to smile in reflex as his face lit up on seeing her. He is really a sweetie, she admitted, as he trotted over and enveloped her in a hug—his six-foot-plus military frame making her feel a bit dwarfed. She returned the hug, feeling the solidness of him under her hands, and gave him a pat on the back.
“Hey, Jack.”
“Dar.” He gave her a last squeeze and released her. “Damn, it’s good to see ya. I’m so glad you decided to c’mon up for Turkey Day.”
She was glad, too. It had been so quiet and so lonely in the condo last night, she’d almost gone crazy, unable to believe her reaction after living alone so many years. At least a few days up at the Eastons’ would fill in for Kerry’s missing presence, and she admitted privately that she could use the change of scenery. “Glad to see you, too. Got your hair cut again, I see.” She ruffled his short buzz-cut affectionately. “You guys get paid by how short you can cut it?”
He laughed. “Better than how some guys think we pilots get paid—by the length of something else,” he wryly answered. “C’mon, you got a bag checked?”
Dar nodded. “One, yeah. I was going to carry it on, but the flight was so full, they made everyone check everything.” She followed his striding form toward the baggage claim, dodging the crowd headed in all directions.
Tropical Storm 395
“How’s Gerry doing?”
“Dad’s great,” he answered, with a sunny grin. “He can’t wait to see you, either. He was really rocked that you decided to take him up on the invite. So was Mom, she was busy quizzing him on what stuff you liked. He had no idea, so we called your secretary.”
Dar burst out laughing. “Oh god, I’m in trouble. She probably told your mother I like broccoli and spinach greens—she hates the way I eat.”
He grinned. “Exactly. She did, and Mom got kind of suspicious—
remembering you like she does. So she called around some more and somehow got hold of an assistant of yours.”
“She did, huh?” Dar bit back a grin. “Bet that was a different story.”
“Heck, yeah! And, boy, was I glad, ’cause I hate broccoli,” Jack replied.
“Candied sweet potatoes are much more my speed.” He parked himself next to the belt and crossed his muscular arms. “Point it out.”
Dar dutifully did so, allowing him to lift the leather duffel from the moving belt and shoulder it. Chivalry always amused her, and Jack’s was the genuine kind. He took her bag because he knew it was his privilege and right to do so, not because he was showing off, or making a point, or any of the other reasons someone like, say, José would have.
It was a guy thing, and, like opening doors, saying ma’am, doffing his hat, or holding a chair, it came utterly naturally to him. He would be utterly bewildered if she’d accused him of chauvinistic behavior of any kind, or protested that she was capable of handling her own baggage. It was an appealingly sweet innocence, and one of the things Dar most liked about the pilot. The fact that he was ruggedly good-looking and had a charming sense of humor didn’t hurt, either. He had blond hair and interestingly dark blue eyes, and when he was being particularly silly, he’d waggle his ears, which were prominent against his crew cut. “So, what’s been up with you?” Dar asked, as they walked towards the entrance. “I hear you got carrier duty?”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, I sure did. USS Nimitz. I fly out there after Christmas and join her at sea.” He exhaled. “I had to do a nighttime qualification last month, and let me tell you, Dar…that’s the most scared I’ve been since I fell out of that treehouse when I was ten and nearly busted my neck.”
Dar laughed a little. “I can’t even imagine that—landing on that tiny deck at all. But in the dark?”
“In high seas.” Jack shook his head. “I almost lost my lunch through body orifices I didn’t even know I had.” He went out the door and held it open for her, grinning wryly seeing Dar wince at the cold wind that hit her. “Not used to this stuff, huh?”
Dar fastened her jacket and lifted her collar. “You got that right,” she muttered. “I was sitting outside under the stars in my Jacuzzi last night.”
“Well, you’re just a delicate hot-house flower there, ma’am,” Jack drawled, his eyes twinkling. “If you want, I’ve got a heavy overcoat in the car.
That jacket doesn’t cover much.”
Dar tugged her sleeves down and gave him a crooked grin. “Thanks, I’ll live. I think I remembered to pack my gloves in there.” She was glad she’d chosen to wear her heavier jeans and a pair of boots, and made a mental note 396 Melissa Good to add an extra layer of clothes when she changed.
They got into Jack’s car, a maroon Ford Explorer with comfortable leather seats. He hit a switch on the dashboard as he closed Dar’s door, then walked around and got in, settling his big body in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. “Heated seats. “ He indicated the switch, then he winked at her.
Dar felt the warmth begin to seep through her and she relaxed, stretching her long legs out and gazing at the now impotent weather. “They don’t sell those in Miami,” she commented with a sigh. “You looking forward to carrier duty?”
He nodded. “I am. It means not seeing the folks for a while, but it gives me a chance at some action.” He glanced at her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to go drop bombs on someone, okay?”
Blue eyes flicked to his face, and Dar let a tiny, understanding smile cross her lips. “I know.”
“But you train, and train. It would be sort of nice to be able to use that, you know? It’s like if all you could do is run a test-pattern all day, that’d be kinda boring.”
“That’s true,” Dar acknowledged quietly. “I guess it’s just that we all hope all that training won’t be put to use. Even though it’s looking more and more likely that we’ll just end up being the world police force.”
Jack looked at her before returning his attention to the road. “You don’t like that idea?” he asked curiously. “I never thought you had a problem with the use of force, Dar.”
She thought about the question. “You know, I never thought I did either.
God knows I was anxious enough to go into the special forces. I know I wouldn’t have been behind a desk there.”
“You’d have been a rocking SEAL, Dar.” Jack grinned. “Kicked their stuffed-up blue butts, I bet.” He glanced at her. “No offense to your daddy.”
“Maybe.” Dar smiled quietly. “It’s an attractive thought, to have that kind of power—might makes right, all that kind of thing. I think I could have done it.” She remembered wanting to…remembered the taste of blood on her tongue when she’d fairly bitten through it, when her father’s last effort at getting her into the program had failed. She’d been so close. So close to being allowed to join that fraternity. She knew most of the guys, she knew she’d even have had a chance to break down the walls of that male-only thing, because they knew her, they knew her father, they knew her capabilities. They knew she could stick it out when the hard stuff came down, and put a knife where it needed to go.