LITMIR.BIZ

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all, his just looking at her in the classroom had made her drop her books, he thought. After Vic left, Cam sighed. For some damned reason, he couldn’t get enough of looking at Molly Rutledge. Why was he so drawn to her? Looking at his watch, he saw it was 1700. Time to eat. He wasn’t really hungry—he’d lost twenty pounds after the death of his family. The paperwork on his desk begged to be done. He’d go over to the restaurant on the base, get a take-out order and go to the TPS library. That was his place to hide. No phone to answer, no people dropping in unexpectedly to disrupt him. He could finally get his work done.

      * * *

      Molly’s stomach growled ominously. The library, small and intimate, was empty. She’d gotten interested in one of her textbooks on software programming, and time had gotten away from her. Looking at her watch, she realized it was 1730. Her back was to the library entrance, and she heard the door open and close. Her scalp prickled and she twisted around in her chair to see who had come in.

      Her heart dropped hard in her chest. It was Cameron Sinclair. He stood, a scowl working its way across his broad brow. In one hand he held a sack of food, in the other an armful of files.

      “You.”

      Molly blinked at the whispered word. Said as a curse? Searching his hard, unyielding face, she wasn’t sure. His pale eyes pinned her, and she felt like quarry.

      “I…uh, is the library off-limits after 1700, Captain?” She’d already screwed up, judging by the dark look on his features. Maybe at night the library was for instructors’ use only. She rose suddenly, her thigh brushing the desk, and two of its four legs jerked off the carpeted floor.

      Her books went flying, sailing gracefully across the aisle to thud like small explosions into the row of library shelves.

      Cam watched the unfolding events in disbelief. Molly had jumped up, almost toppling over the desk. Her hands flew to her cheeks as she stood watching her books fly. To compound the error, she stepped back, almost falling over her chair, which didn’t slide well against the carpeted floor. His own hands full, Cam was helpless to do anything but watch. Molly caught her balance, but the chair tipped over backward, crashing to the floor. Cam’s heart wrenched in his chest as he saw her eyes fill with utter embarrassment.

      “Klutz,” she said apologetically, kneeling down in front of the shelves. “I’ve always been a klutz, Captain. I’m sorry. Libraries are supposed to be quiet.”

      Cam sensed something sad in Molly’s apology. He set his sack and files on another desk. Her gold hair swung effortlessly, like a curtain, hiding her bright-red features, and Cam found himself wanting to reassure her that her very human reaction to him wasn’t bad or wrong.

      “You don’t need to apologize.” God, he sounded hard and unforgiving. The thought was validated when she twisted a look up at him, her blond bangs thick and barely touching her brows, a panicked look on her face. Groaning to himself, Cam felt pulled into the shadowed worry of her now dark green eyes.

      “My father always says when I get nervous I’m like an elephant in a china shop,” Molly offered breathlessly, reclaiming her books and stacking them back on her desk. As she leaned down to retrieve her pen and notebook, her hip caught the desk’s corner.

      “Ouch!” Molly bit back the rest of her retort, dolefully rubbing her aching hip, sure a bruise would appear shortly.

      Tucking her lower lip between her teeth, she avoided Sinclair’s searching gaze. Before she could bend down again, he was there, picking up her pen and notebook. Molly stared at his hand. His knuckles were large, the fingers long. Pilot’s hands. Strong, guiding hands. Forcing herself to look up, she expected accusation from him and tried to prepare herself emotionally for his censure.

      “Here, take these before you do any more damage to yourself.”

      Oddly, his eyes weren’t hard-looking any longer. Molly reached out, her fingers brushing his. The sensation of contact was sharp and warm. “I— Thanks, Captain.”

      “First days are always nerve-racking.” Cam suddenly felt nervous, almost shy, about being in her presence. How could that be? He had more questions about his unexpected reaction to Molly Rutledge than he’d ever had about any woman in his life.

      Gripping the notebook, Molly nodded and managed a slight smile. “The last couple of months have been all of that and more,” she admitted wryly.

      “You always drop things when you’re in a clinch?”

      His voice was hard again. Molly nodded. “I thought when I grew up, I’d leave the bumping and running into things behind. I guess I’m a born klutz.”

      Her honesty unstrung him. Cam stared down at Molly, noticing every nuance. Her blond hair was fine, reminding him of spun sunlight. The lashes framing her eyes were long and curly. She wore no makeup, yet her lovely sculptured lips were cherry red. Her skin was flawless and velvety. The urge to reach out and brush her fiery-colored cheek was very real. Cam ruthlessly squashed the idiotic yearning.

      Abruptly he turned away. “I’ve got work to do,” he informed her gruffly. “And to answer your question, the library is open to everyone. It’s not considered off-limits to students at any time.” Molly Rutledge was, indeed, a cream puff. And—God help him—he felt protective of her. What would happen when Martin or another of the test-pilot students blamed her for his poor grades? How could she possibly stand up to the withering cross fire that took place in a flight debriefing?

      Feeling as if she’d proved to Sinclair that she was a loser, Molly turned and went back to her desk. As quietly as possible, she packed her books into her huge black leather briefcase and prepared to leave. Sinclair seemed to want to be alone, she thought. She felt like an intruder in his space, his territory. Dejectedly, Molly walked to the door.

      “Good night, Captain Sinclair,” she said softly.

      Cam looked up, her contralto voice moving through him like a warm memory of happier times, of times he knew would never again come into his life. “Good night, Ensign Rutledge.”

      With a small sigh, Molly left. Outside in the hall, she stopped and took a deep breath. She’d felt eviscerated by his opaque gaze. She was a klutz, incapable of being calm and in control during a critical situation. Would Sinclair talk about her to the other instructors? Would they get a good laugh out of her clownlike antics in the classroom and library? Turning, she walked down the empty hall, no longer hungry, just sorely disappointed with herself.

       Chapter Three

      Molly was in the computer room, working on her very first flight test at one of the many terminals. Lieutenant Norton wasted no time getting his students busy programming. The large room had a tile floor, blue walls and overhead fluorescent lights that bothered Molly’s eyes. Every chance she got, she took the ream of papers spewed out by the printer into the library and worked on her budding flight test there, instead.

      Without fail, TPS closed at 2100 every night. Only the instructors had keys to the massive facility. Once students left, they couldn’t reenter the building until 0600 the next morning when the instructor on duty reopened it. A number of other flight-engineering students shared the computer room with Molly, working laboriously at their terminals until 1700, chow time.

      Left alone, Molly worked through dinner, time slipping away from her. It was Thursday, and she knew that test-pilot students would be assigned to them. Molly only hoped Chuck Martin wouldn’t be assigned to her. Obviously he hated her with a passion. Every time he saw her in the hall or in an adjacent classroom, he’d glare ominously. Not wanting to feed the flames of animosity, Molly refused to react at all.

      The glass door to the computer room opened and closed. Molly sat at the terminal desk, calculator in hand, rerunning her mathematical figures to compute with the variable of the F-14 Tomcat fighter, which would be utilized in her particular test. It was a simple test in her estimation, getting her used to folding in knowledge of aerodynamics with edge-of-the-envelope testing on this particular aircraft. All Norton wanted

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