The Right Stuff

Relief?

Could she actually be relieved he was going away? The thought stung like a slap.

“Face it, Daniel. We’re fire and ice. It makes for great sex…” She shook her head. “But it’s lousy for relationships.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re too different. You know that and I know it. Most of all, your family knows it. This has been fun. Great fun, in fact, but…”

She was breaking up with him.

It hit him then, a sledgehammer between the eyes. He had an engagement ring in his pocket to slip on her finger and she was breaking up with him.

“We need to get out of this now before either one of us gets hurt,” she said.

Too late, too late.

Thunderstruck, he sat up and just stared at her. What then was this sudden stabbing in the center of his chest? Was that the kind of hurt she was talking about?

“Taylor…” He started to say more, to plead his case, but he stopped himself. Dammit, he wasn’t going to beg. If she didn’t want him, she didn’t want him. He was an airman. A doctor in training. He came from a long line of strong, capable men. He wasn’t going to let a broken heart fell him. Hell, no.

“This is our last hurrah,” she said gently and reached out to lay a hand over his, but her eyes were too shiny, her smile forced. “After tonight, it’s over, Daniel. It’s for the best and we both know it.”

No, no, he didn’t know that at all. Yes, they came from different worlds. Yes, his parents disapproved. Probably so did her father.

He hardened his jaw, tightened his hands into fists. “That’s really the way you want it?”

Taylor nodded. She was checking her emotions, pulling back, detaching herself. He could see it in the murkiness descending over her intense brown eyes.

“I’ve got to confess, Daniel, this was never anything more than a good time for me.”

She couldn’t have hurt him more if she’d taken out a knife and driven it straight through his heart. His limbs felt wooden as he searched for his underwear and pants and somehow managed to jam his legs into them and then lace up his shoes.

“You don’t have to leave now,” she murmured. “The night is still young.”

Was it his imagination or did she sound a little panicky? He searched her face for a clue, but she gave away nothing. “Hoo-effing-rah,” he said through clenched teeth as he tightened his belt. “Been nice knowing you, Taylor.”

He snatched up his shirt, grabbed his jacket, and snagged his hat from the bed post. Had he not been so mad, so hurt, he might have heard her whisper, “I love you, Danny Boy, with all my heart, but this is the way it’s gotta be.”

2

Present day

“DOCTOR CORBEN?”

Daniel got to his feet in the waiting area of the Department of Defense Manned Space Flight Support Office at Patrick Air Force Base in Cape Canaveral and smiled at the attractive young staff sergeant sitting behind the reception desk. “Yes?”

She returned his smile with a flirtatious slant of her eyelashes. Had word already gotten out that he and Sandy had broken up? “Colonel Grayson is ready for you.”

This is it, the conversation leading to the promotion I’ve been shooting for my entire career.

From the time he was a kid in short pants listening to his father and grandfather talk about the exciting opportunities for air force doctors, he’d dreamed of going into space as a NASA physician. Making colonel before he was forty was a crucial step in that direction.

Daniel squared his shoulders, perfected his best military-officer stance and stalked into Grayson’s office, hoping that he struck the perfect balance between cocky and obedient. Assertive, but eager to follow orders. “You asked to see me, sir?”

“I did.” Colonel Cooper Grayson was standing. He pointed at the plain straight-backed chair positioned in front of his sturdy metal desk. “Have a seat, Daniel.”

He sat, but the expression on Grayson’s face troubled Daniel. It wasn’t a congratulations-you’re-in-the-running-to-make-colonel look.

“When are you going to ask Sandy to marry you?” the colonel asked.

The minute the words were out of his superior’s mouth, Daniel tensed. Was this a fishing expedition? Deeming his worthiness for promotion? It was the one question he dreaded. He knew well enough that in the military you were more likely to get promoted if you were married. The service viewed its airmen as more stable, mature and trustworthy if they had a wedding ring on their finger and a passel of kids to support.

He did not have that advantage going for him.

It wasn’t that Daniel didn’t want to get married or have children. He did. But becoming a doctor had taken all his focus in his younger years. Then later, once he’d completed his internship and residency and he’d met Sandy, well…

He’d thought about asking her to marry him. They’d been dating for four years. She was smart and pretty and safe and predictable. Her father was a career military man so she understood the life. In theory, she was perfect for him.

But she wasn’t Taylor.

The unwanted thought popped into his mind. What the hell was he doing thinking about Taylor Milton? He hadn’t seen or heard from her in thirteen years.

Still, that woman had excited him like no other, even though she’d been completely wrong for him. Sometimes, he wondered if she’d ruined him in regard to other women. But no one could measure up to her verve, her sheer enthusiasm, her exuberant life force.

It’s what Sandy had accused. He clenched his jaw, remembering their break up weeks earlier.

“Four years I’ve spent with you, Daniel. Four years of loving you and waiting for you to love me back.” Sandy had paused, taken a deep breath. “You were only with her for a few months and she put such a spell over you that you can’t forget her even after all this time. You’re in love with a woman who didn’t love you back. And I’ve been waiting with open arms, aching for you to love me.”

“You’re wrong. I’ m not still in love with Taylor. I haven’t even thought about her in years.”

“Maybe not consciously, Daniel, but sometimes you call out her name in your sleep.”

He’d blinked. “I do?”

Sandy had nodded, tears spilling from her eyes. “Not often, but you have.”

Daniel had felt as if he’d been poleaxed. Was it true? Did he still dream of Taylor? He didn’t remember that.

“The thing is, you’re holding on to the past, to the ghost of some long-lost love. You can’t let go of her and love the real flesh-and-blood woman standing in front of you.”

“I do love you, Sandy,” he’d said, but the words had sounded false. He did care about her, just not in the way she wanted and needed.

“Not in the way I deserve.”

“No,” he agreed.

“I know.” She’d exhaled audibly.

She’d been right. Damn him, he’d known she was right. “You’re breaking my heart here,” he’d said as she headed for the door, suitcase in hand.

She’d whirled on him, eyes flashing and dropped her suitcase. “No, Daniel, you’re breaking mine. Only love can break a heart and Taylor Milton broke yours years ago. You’re damaged goods.”

“I’m not,” he’d declared hotly. “I’ve long since moved on.”

“Maybe in your head you have.” She had stepped across the room toward him, hammered a small fist against the left side of his chest. “But not here, not where it counts, not in your heart.”

“Sandy…” Daniel had let his words trail off. What else had there been to say? It hurt to know that he was hurting her, but he couldn’t make himself love her, no matter how much he might want to. Was this how Taylor had felt toward him? Pity, guilt, embarrassment? “I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“Physician, heal thyself,” Sandy had said, then turned and walked away.

“Well?” Colonel Grayson prompted bringing him back to the present.

“Sandy and I broke up,” he said.

“How come?”

“She was pressuring me to get married.”

“And you’re not ready for marriage?”

“I’m ready, sir,” he said, hating the thought that he might lose out on the promotion because he wasn’t yet hitched. “But I haven’t found the right woman.”

“So you’re free as a bird. Not dating anyone else?”

“That’s correct.”

“Hmm,” the colonel mused. Daniel had expected his boss to look disappointed, but he did not. “Interesting.”

Wariness settled over him. Something was up. “What’s this meeting about, sir?”

Grayson clasped his hands behind his back and paced like an agitated jungle cat. “A thorn in my side.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve got a thorn in my side and you’re the only one I trust to pull it out.”

Ah. The colonel had a problem and he perceived Daniel as the solution. That was good news. Solving his superior’s issue would go a long way toward proving his worthiness for the promotion.

“Sir.” Daniel stood at attention. “How may I be of service to you, sir?”

Grayson stopped pacing and looked over at him. “I like your gung-ho attitude, Corben. Exactly why you’re the man for this job.”

“What’s the assignment? I’m ready to roll up my sleeves and get started.”

“You say that now.” Grayson gave a rueful laugh. “Wait until you hear what it is.”

“Doesn’t matter, sir. I’m at your disposal.”

Grayson plunked down behind his desk and motioned for Daniel to sit. He did. The Colonel locked on him with a steady gaze. “General Charles Miller came to see me yesterday.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The general has political aspirations. He’s planning on running for public office when he retires at the end of next year. He’s eyeing the White House. Sees himself as the next Colin Powell.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can drop the ‘sir’ business, Daniel, it’s just you and me in here.”

Now Grayson was getting chummy. The thorn in his side must really be throbbing. His curiosity piqued, Daniel leaned forward. “Is this thorn medically related?”

Grayson made a face. “Not exactly.”

“Are we dealing under the table here?” Daniel bristled. He’d do anything for his superior as long as it wasn’t unethical or against regulations. He was strictly by the book, one of the reasons why he and Taylor had made for such a bad match. She’d been all about breaking the rules.

“No, not really, bending a few rules maybe, but nothing that crosses the line.”

“Tell me,” Daniel said bluntly.

“Let me just say up front that if you successfully pull off this assignment your promotion is practically a done deal. You’ll have my full recommendation to the committee.”

“And if I don’t?”

Grayson shrugged. “Only twenty-five percent of military officers ever achieve the rank of colonel.”

Daniel knew this. He also understood the implication. “I did two tours of duty in a field hospital in the Middle East. I earned a silver star in Afghanistan—”

“And that is the reason why you’ve made it up the ranks as quickly as you have.”

“What do I have to do to make colonel?”

Grayson leaned back in his chair and propped his booted feet on his desk. “One of General Miller’s wealthy VIPs has pledged big contribution money if he’ll grant a favor.”

“Which gets passed down to me.”

Grayson nodded. “That’s the thorn you’ll be pulling out of my side, doctor.”

“Lay it on me.”

“The general’s generous donor wants a backstage pass to our behind-the-scenes action for the next launch of the space shuttle,” he said.

“Meaning?”

“She’s doing research for—”

“She?”

“That’s why I asked you about Sandy. According to the general, his benefactor is young, single, attractive and very rich.”

“Ah.”

“Anyway, she runs some kind of sex fantasy resort thing and she’s in the research stages of planning a new one.”

“Like fantasy baseball camp?”

Grayson cleared his throat. “Something like that, except it’s for adults. She wants details on test pilots, flight surgeons and astronauts. I don’t know the full parameters, I’m sure she’ll fill you in.”

An ugly tug pulled at the pit of his stomach. “You gotta be kidding me.”

His superior officer shrugged, gave him an apologetic look. “I wish I was.”

Daniel got to his feet again. “Let me get this straight. You want me to babysit some pampered rich woman who’s running around using our high-tech military space program to fuel her little X-rated sexual fantasies?”

“Believe me, Corben. I’m no happier about it than you are. But if we pull this off to her satisfaction, then she’ll bankroll Miller’s run for the senate. I’ll make brigadier general and my job will be open for you to step in.”

“How long will she be here?”

“Two 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 you can let go of your loved ones so they can be what they need to be.”

It was only years later, after her father had died, that Taylor found her mother’s journal in his safedeposit box and learned that her father had never wanted her mother to get pregnant. Lillian Milton been a brittle diabetic and doctors had warned she might not survive a pregnancy. But her mother had wanted a baby so badly and her father had loved her mother so much, he’d agreed to let her try. And in the process of letting her be what she needed to be, he’d lost her forever.

“You always lose the one you love, Taylor,” her father used to say. “Never forget that. You lose them. One way or another. Always.”

Silly. Fanciful. Thinking about the past. Taylor blinked back the tears that had formed along her eyelashes.

Thankfully, she heard her cell phone ring, distracting her from the sad memories. She flipped it open. “Speak to me,” she said to her executive assistant Heather Rheiss.

“The Italian resort had another incident.”

“What now?” Her third destination fantasy resort in Venice, featuring “Make Love Like a Courtesan” and its masculine counterpart, “Make Love Like Casanova” had been the target of several disturbing occurrences.

First off, malfunctioning smoke alarms had allowed a fire in the laundry room to go undetected until it had done several thousand dollars’ worth of damage. It was suspicious, because the smoke alarms had just passed inspection the week before.

Then, after one of the scheduled banquet feasts, several resort guests contracted food poisoning and had to be sent to the hospital for treatment.

And finally, the thing that had drawn her to Venice to check things out for herself; a Renoir was stolen from the resort because the security system had been turned off. The police suspected an inside job. She’d fired the manager, hired someone new and stayed a week to show them the ropes. The police had no leads in the theft and she’d filed an insurance claim.

Taken one by one, all the incidents seemed unconnected, but together, Taylor was starting to see a pattern. Was someone trying to undermine her resorts? She was no stranger to controversy. Outspoken religious fundamentalists denigrated her resorts and condemned them as hedonistic and wicked. Kinky customers threatened to sue because they thought Eros Air should fulfill their illegal fantasies. Competitors were jealous of the way she’d taken stodgy Milton Airlines and given it a stunning new makeover in the form of Eros Air. It was all part of doing business in the tourism industry.

“The new manager you hired caught an undercover exposé reporter posing as a guest.”

Taylor groaned. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t worry, it’s been handled. The manager confiscated the photos he’d taken and threw the reporter out on his ear. I just thought you should know.”

“Thanks, Heather. I appreciate the heads up.”

“No problem. Where are you now?”

“I’m almost at the air base. I’ll check in with you later.”

“I’ll be holding down the fort.”

Taylor closed her phone and followed the signs to the main entrance of the air base and stopped at the front gate.

“Name?” asked the security officer.

Pushing her designer sunglasses up higher on her nose with a freshly manicured fingernail, she gave him her most winsome smile. “Taylor Milton,” she said. “Colonel Grayson is expecting me.”