Star-Crossed Lovers

It had been a first, having his carnal desires violently awakened by rage. He was not, had never been, a violent man, had never forced a woman, or treated a woman roughly. Never in his life. He was appalled by violence, and had never associated it with either sex or desire.

It had frightened him. He had turned his head to face out the window so that Phil would not see his shame and turmoil, and he had held the briefcase temporarily on his lap to cover the evidence of his fierce arousal. Damn that woman for turning him into an animal!

No, that was unfair. She had done nothing to inspire his sudden insanity. It was something within himself, something dark and painful and frighteningly powerful, that had blossomed without warning and overshadowed his civility.

The thought that she had once wooed him with sweet shyness, and then given her body to someone else, had once again infuriated him. He had to know if that was what she had done, borne some other man’s child when he as a teenager in love was lying awake nights missing her and wanting her, wondering when he might see her again. When he thought of his own young innocence and the aching need to be close to her, to take care of her and hold her and dream of a future together, he felt the ominous force of his pain-fired anger, because he had been deluded and used. He had been a fool, naive and trusting. Believing in her.

Until he heard about the “other” man and confronted her.

That Amanda might be her child had caught in his chest, until he had realized she probably wasn’t Jessi’s. During the return flight he had thought about that stretch of time twelve and thirteen years ago, from the accident in September to the last time he saw Jessi the following August, and he figured that if Jessi had got herself pregnant during that time, the child could not yet be twelve years old.

And then, riding in the plane alongside his pilot, he had let the other feelings overwhelm him, the ones he could neither understand nor explain that caught him in their grip when he touched her and felt the length of her soft body against him, and it sickened him. What had possessed him to handle her so harshly and to find himself wanting to force her to his will? What ill-conceived demon had driven him to such lengths?

Was it because he had harbored and nurtured his resentment toward her for so many years that when he finally found himself in her presence he could no longer contain his anger?

He was a man of infinite control. Ask anyone who knew him, the women he had known intimately, the people he worked with, his family, his clients, anyone.

To lose control now was to face a terror, for it was something within himself that he did not recognize. And could not tolerate.

That he must harness these wild errant feelings was without question. And he must do so immediately. Furthermore, he must avoid future contact with Jessi Caldwell Morris, who seemed to bring on this unconscionable behavior.

Now, standing at the cabinet where he had manhandled her nine days ago, he yanked himself back to the present. It had happened again, losing himself in the experience of touching her and suffering the consequences.

He turned quickly from the cabinet, gripping the rental car keys in his hand and strode outside. He was heading for the rental car when she called to him, and without thought he instantly responded.

She was running from the small plane, jogging toward him in a short sleeveless tank top that revealed too many inches of delectable flat midsection, and khaki shorts, a clipboard held against her side. Her hair was frizzed by the heat and humidity, pulled into an inadequate clasp at the back of her neck so that wildly curled tendrils framed her face. As she drew near, he saw that some of the tendrils were wet and stuck to her face.

He saw the sheen of perspiration from her forehead down her clear tanned skin to the top of her breasts. That was how he had thought she would look under him when he finally made love to her, her skin glowing with pleasure and heat while she gave herself to him.

Adolescent thoughts, he warned himself, better forgotten. It would never happen. He would never make love to a woman he despised.

But he remembered her convincing innocence and her quiet vitality. He could still hear her calling his mother “Reggie Mom,” see her savoring the sour apples off the sprawling tree in the Nobles’ backyard.

“Kale,” she called, although she was within a few feet of where he forced himself to stand without expression. He ordered himself to be absolutely still, to express nothing, to stay in control of himself.

She studied him for a moment as though she was looking for something in his face, and then she spoke. “I want to talk to you, Kale,” she said quietly, still searching his face. “Would you have time after your business today?”

“What have we to talk about?”

She inhaled sharply and winced. She ran a hand over her hair which was hopelessly wild. He watched her struggle for a reply, keeping his face cool and immobile, keeping his body still while inside a fire was raging.

“Nothing, I guess,” she said in a voice so low he saw rather than heard it. “Forget it,” she murmured.

He should, although he would like to talk some more about Amanda. He already knew the girl was Charlotte’s and not Jessi’s. And he shouldn’t talk to Jessi. He shouldn’t allow himself to be caught in a conversation with her, and yet, he did intend to pursue his suspicion that she was hiding something in regard to Arnanda. He wanted to ask when Amanda was born. He wanted to know whether there was a possibility she was Paul’s.

It seemed unlikely that even the Jezebel Caldwells could have been cruel enough to withhold all these years a precious child of Paul’s. Still, he wanted to know for certain.

He was watching Jessi’s knotted eyebrows, and then he looked into her eyes. Hell, it was Friday afternoon, and he wouldn’t mind a cool drink before he crawled back into the plane. He tried not to think of how it would be sitting near her, watching her, sharing a drink.

“All right,” he said finally. “But I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” she said softly.

He nodded and tore himself away from her soft voice and her luscious glowing woman’s body, turning swiftly to walk in the opposite direction to the rental car, letting himself through the high latched gate at the end of the sidewalk. He looked back once before he tucked himself into the car, but she was gone.

Jessi wrote her instructor’s comments in the student’s logbook, then gassed the plane and returned it to the hangar. She looked at the schedule for the rest of the day, what planes were reserved by whom for what time periods, and she went through message slips that had been accumulating during the day, then checked the ground school schedule to make sure that Chaz had arranged his hours to teach the Saturday morning class. She would be tied up with lessons as she usually was on Saturdays, and once again she promised herself she would hire another part-time flight instructor.

She had hired Harry, a retired airline pilot, as a part-time pilot after Rollie and Frank had died, and she had given Chaz the full-time job, but she and Chaz were the only ones qualified to instruct, and during the summer she needed another person on weekends.

Amanda skipped in from school, threw herself into Jessi’s embrace and told her aunt she had been invited to spend the night at a friend’s. Jessi approved of the friend and agreed to drive her there if Amanda would go home and pack a bag and come back when she was ready to go.

Before leaving to transport Amanda, she told Chaz she would be gone for fifteen minutes. “If Kale Noble comes back, ask him to wait. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Both Amanda and Chaz were startled at her casual words.

“Mr. Noble? That gorgeous man who said I look like my mom?” Amanda asked.

Chaz observed, “The man can hardly stand to be in the same room with you, Jessi.”

“We have something to discuss,” she snapped, and headed to the door so quickly Amanda had to jerk herself around to keep up.

“I’ll tell him you’re busy getting into your armor,” Chaz yelled after her.

When she returned, Chaz was waiting for her. “You watch out for him, Jessi,” he warned.

“Well, what do you think he’s going to do to me, for heaven’s sake,” she scoffed, fleeing further questions by dashing to her upstairs retreat.

“Jessi!” he shouted, taking the steps two at a time behind her. “Did you ever look in his eyes? They’re black as coal, like there’s a fire burning in there. And the way he acts like he has the whole world in his control. Curt Burness says he’s a genius! A genius, for crying out loud!”

“Curt Burness said that? Interesting.” She pulled an accounting book out of a desk drawer. Well, Curt Burness would know a genius if he worked with one.

Chaz was silent for a moment. She could hear his heavy breathing. When she looked up, his face was a picture of chagrin, but his voice had softened and his arms were still. “I think he could hurt you,” he said.

She was dismayed not only by the intensity of his concern, but also by the unwitting accuracy of his words. Any hurt Kale Noble caused her wouldn’t be of the physical variety, but rather it would be the soul-deep pain of a twice-broken heart. She forced a small smile. “Thank you for worrying, Chaz, but Kale Noble has never been a violent person,” she replied, deliberately misinterpreting his prediction.

“Every time I see that damned Noble plane I get a pain in my gut. Every time I see it fly away I feel relieved. The guy is arrogant as hell,” Chaz continued.

So it wasn’t just her imagination that Kale Noble paced through life with an aura of power and intimidation. It wasn’t just memories of the past or her awareness that he resented her that gave him an appearance almost sinister. And then, there had been the incident behind the counter the last time they were together, when he crowded her and put his hand in her hair. She saw him as a walking energy force, threatening her emotional stability with his raw sensuality.

“You’re probably right, Chaz,” she agreed. “I’ll suggest we meet at the restaurant.”

He reluctantly left, and she worked on accounts payable, stopping frequently while her mind wandered.

Was she doing the right thing intending to probe to learn how close he was to discovering the truth about Amanda’s parentage? She deeply regretted her taunting and defiant response to his question when he held her against the cabinet and let her see for the first time that his rage had been fostered by abject pain. It wasn’t in her nature or true to her principles that she be coy with him. She didn’t approve of playing games with people’s feelings. Certainly it was inappropriate not to be honest about a subject that was so emotionally charged it was bound to cause yet another series of painful eruptions between the Caldwells and the Nobles.

Still, she didn’t think she could bear to tell Kale and risk losing Amanda to the Caldwells’ archenemies.

Whatever action she took or didn’t take in the matter, the truth might eventually be revealed now that Kale was a regular customer, and if it was, all of them were going to be hurt in some way. Better, she thought, to determine how close Kale was to figuring things out. If he should discover Paul was Amanda’s father, his accusations and bitterness were likely to curdle the air. And she wouldn’t blame him.

She disliked working on accounts payable, and when she caught herself writing the wrong amount on a check, she ceased her efforts, and stared out the window at the nice flurry of activity on her airfield.

In spite of the uncomfortable heat, people were coming to fly airplanes, their own that were hangared there and hers that they rented. She saw her sleek six-passenger aircraft turn from downwind to base leg and knew that Harry, her part-time pilot, was returning with officers from one of the corporations that regularly used her flight service.

There was a line of three planes at the gas pump occupying Chaz.

She put away her books and went down to the counter.

She wandered into the lounge to visit with the men who sat around because they loved flying and at the moment had nowhere to go. Sometimes there were a few women around, too, but seldom.

There was no profit in idle pilots sitting around the lounge, but Jessi encouraged it nonetheless, as Rollie had, because she liked the camaraderie. She liked to hear the old-timers talk about tail draggers and tease the younger pilots about the minimal skills required nowadays to fly “tricycles.”

Being a pilot made you a part of a special fellowship. She had felt it the first time she set foot in Rollie’s lounge, and she had known immediately that she wanted to be a part of it. After her first ride aloft, she recognized that a whole new world had been opened to her, a world she was born to.

At times like this she missed Rollie, whose devotion to flying and his friends had left a gaping hole in her life.

And then she felt a bite of guilt because in recent days her thoughts of Rollie had been insidiously replaced by thoughts of Kale Noble, who, as Chaz fantasized, was bedeviling her.

She grinned when he came through the door, having handed off his briefcase to Phil, and the words fell from her lips, “Well, just think about the devil and.”

He eyed her from where he stood by the counter, his white cotton shirt stained with sweat and fine splatters of mud. His black hair was blown out of its natural waves, and strands were plastered to his gleaming skin. He looked rugged and earthy, sensual and elegant.

She stared at him from the lounge. He ran a hand over his ruffled hair and headed for the rest room. When he emerged, the mud splatters were less evident, his face was clean and his hair combed.

“Does that place across the parking lot sell liquor?” he demanded.

“There’s a bar,” she replied.

“Good. Let’s talk there,” he said, reaching out a hand in an impatient gesture to have her join him. He didn’t ask. He just made the decision and expected her to agree.

Well, the talk was her idea and he had reluctantly gone along with it. So let him be high-handed about choosing the site. She had intended to meet in the restaurant anyway.

They walked across the parking lot in awkward silence. She wondered again whether she was doing the right thing, or whether she should keep mum and avoid the risk of triggering further suspicions from Kale.

If her timing would prove to be bad, or if he would lose his temper again and pull her within his body force as he had done before, she would once again find him kindling wild sensations, wrecking her inner balance.

Too late, she recognized she was only dreading the aftermath, not the experience.

Four

Kale ordered a glass of ice water followed by a martini. Jessi ordered lemonade.

“Nothing stronger?” he questioned.

“I’m on call for the chopper tonight,” she explained, not telling him she rarely drank. It interfered with flying. Besides, most of it tasted like caustic medicine, she thought.

“The chopper? On call for what?”

“We have a contract for emergency air ambulance service. One of us is always on call. See?” She tapped the beeper attached to the belt of her shorts.

“So you’re also qualified to fly a helicopter,” he observed.

“Chaz, too. Unfortunately, we’re the only two, and so one or the other of us is always on call, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. But we don’t have many calls.”

“You put in a lot of hours,” he murmured, draining the glass of ice water. “So you’re finding there are drawbacks to owning your own business?” He flung the words at her as though it was righteous consequence for her ambition.

“It never seems like too many. I love it,” she replied.

“I feel the same way about my business. I always have, even as a teen. I couldn’t wait to get through engineering school and be a real part of the company.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I remember.” She remembered that his father hadn’t been concerned about Kale’s education, or where he finally found employment. Yet how fortunate he was that he had a son like Kale who could competently take over.

“I didn’t expect as much responsibility as I got, though, or so soon. My father lost interest after Paul’s accident. He always planned that his financial son would actually run the business when he was ready to give it up.” Kale’s voice was low and hard, but she heard every word, all of it familiar facts. “I would simply be chief of engineering when the Noble boys eventually took over.”

He looked up at her, his eyes simmering. “There wasn’t much left of the business by the time I got out of school. My father, well, he has, uh, withdrawn over the years.”

She didn’t know what to reply. It was all so brutal, the consequences of the accident that Charlotte had caused.

Finally, she said, “I was always fond of your father, and I was especially fond of Paul. I’ve thought of them both many times over the years, especially at Christmastime.” Christmas Eve had always been a special time for the Caldwells and Nobles.

His lean dark face took on dramatic shadows in the dimly lit atmosphere, highlighting the rugged lines. He was not overtly accusing, but she felt the guilt nevertheless for the pain her family had caused.

“You must have dedicated much of your life to Noble Engineering for it to be the success it is,” she murmured.

“Yes,” he conceded in little more than a whisper. “Other things have been neglected.”

“No family?”

He hesitated, staring hard into her eyes. “No wife. No chil- dren. Yet. No home in the ‘burbs. I find I don’t even get away on vacation often enough,” he said.

“Where do you go on vacation?” she asked in a desperate attempt to get the conversation into another direction. His lack of family was none of her business, and why should she care anyway?

“The last one was with a, er, friend to the Grand Caymans. I didn’t want to be gone a whole week, but once I was there, a week didn’t seem long enough,” he said, leaning on his elbows, looking at her steadily.

Did he see her reaction? Could he see how his words affected her, sending tiny explosions through her chest? A friend? Well, of course, it had been a woman. She hadn’t seen a wedding ring and assumed he was not married, and now she knew he had never got to the altar at all. But if a woman friend traveled on vacation with him, obviously he was in a serious relationship with her, she concluded.

“I thought you would have married long ago,” she murmured.

“I’ve been thinking about it. I would like a family.”

“Well, give marriage serious consideration, Kale. I hope when it happens you’ll be as happy as I was being married to Rollie.” Surely he couldn’t see that she was brimming with turmoil, and although she meant what she said, the words were to hide her inner distress.

He narrowed his eyes as if doubting. “Let’s talk about Amanda,” he said. It was not a suggestion, but was said in a low commanding voice.

“She’s Charlotte’s,” she blurted, clutching her wet lemonade glass to steady her hands.

“I figured that out.” When she didn’t reply, he remarked, “I owe you an apology.”

She nodded awkwardly, taken aback by his admission that he had been in the wrong. “Accepted,” she said. “And I’m sorry I was so defiant and, well, vague.” And afraid. But she didn’t say that, only lowered her eyes. The feelings he generated were too strong and she didn’t want him to see how shaken she was.

She could feel his eyes on her, though. She could feel his heat projecting itself, touching her, and she kept her face down, her gaze on the tall lemonade she clung to irrationally as if it might leap away from her on its own.

“You had every right to be afraid,” he said quietly, as if reading her mind. Or was he used to people being afraid of him? “I lost my temper. A rare occasion.”

She looked up. His eyes were still hard. Chaz was right. He was dangerous. Maybe she would do well not to think of him as the boy he had been, gentle and trusting, so loving and tender he stole her breath when he kissed her. He was a man now, and as his body had grown more powerful with maturity, so had his force of energy.

“When was she born?”

“Who?”

“Amanda. When was she born?”

“May 15,” she said, swallowing hard. She knew the question would come sooner or later. Now he had what he needed to figure it all out.

He stared at her for long seconds, and she saw his mind calculating. It didn’t take long. “She could be Paul’s.”

Her answer was a long time in coming. The conversation was not moving as she had expected. Obviously, she had underestimated him, and now it was a kind of fear she felt, and a jolt of strangeness. After having assumed Amanda was Frank’s all these years, and then discovering the truth after Charlotte’s death, she had never revealed it before now.

“Charlotte said Amanda was premature,” she said. “She was born seven and a half months after she and Frank were married.”

He folded his hands under his chin, as if he doubted her. “Nine months after Charlotte and Paul became engaged and were seeing each other every day,” he added.

Jessi sipped her lemonade and nodded in silence.

“Then, Amanda is Paul’s daughter, isn’t she?” His voice was so low with menace, she shivered at the sound of it.

She stared at him, silently begging him to soften, not to insist, not to take Amanda away from her. Fear knocked her speechless.

“Do you deny it?” he probed.

She pursed her lips and steadfastly met his glare, shaking her head finally.

“So it’s true.” She saw the rage vivid and real in every feature of his face, although he barely moved and his voice remained low.

She understood the anger. In spite of having arranged this session to discover how close he was to the truth, she hadn’t wanted to discuss Amanda’s parentage in detail. Neither had she estimated he would already have figured it out. She could see that his venom was ages old, simmered to a high concentration.

She pushed her chair back, her intent, suddenly, to flee. “I’m sorry I brought this up. I’m sorry I thought we could discuss—” She rose abruptly.

He was up and reaching across the table, his hand on her forearm, coaxing her back into the chair. “Sit down, please.”

“You can’t force me to stay here,” she cried, hushing her voice. “This conversation is done. You make me feel dishonorable.”

“What does a Caldwell know of honor?” he returned.

“It was a mistake to try to deal with you!”

“Just what kind of deal did you have in mind?”

She hushed her voice. “Your sarcasm will get us nothing but more anger. Do you intend to rip open new wounds? Or discuss the future with…reasonableness?”

His grimace revealed the pain she didn’t want to see behind his sarcasm.

This time she pushed her chair back several feet and stood beyond his reach. “You’re…impossible!” she charged, and walked swiftly out of the bar, through the foyer and onto the steamy hot parking lot. She started toward the airfield, and then changed her mind when she felt tears choking her, and headed in a dead run for the trees that hid the lake and her cottage from view of restaurant patrons.

It was too hot for running, and by the time she reached the path under the trees, perspiration was running down her face and neck. She was quickly out of breath. When she reached her cottage, she ran out onto the dock with the intent of slipping into the cool water. Instead, she stood at the end of the dock, her body heaving as she sobbed and tried to catch her wind. She bent over, elbows locked, resting her hands on her knees, forcing herself to breathe in deeply through her nose and exhale through pursed lips.

She felt his weight on the dock before she heard him, and when she peered around her shoulder, he was slowly advancing on her. She quickly wiped her eyes, straightened and turned to face him, but his ominous visage intimidated her and she backed away.