Touch The Heavens - Eileen Nauman

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die trying.”

      “Dying isn’t funny.”

      He shrugged. “We’re all going to die someday, Raven. It’s just a question of when and how. Is that what you wanted to discuss so seriously?”

      Chris shivered at the mention of death and dying. It brought back sharp, anguished memories. Oh, God, would she ever be able to sleep a night without reliving the events of that horrible day?

      “Raven? Hey, where did you fly off to?” Dan kidded, watching her eyes suddenly grow misty and faraway.

      “What? Oh—” She paused to gather her thoughts. “No... I wanted to discuss us. I’m a student here and you’re an instructor. If any of the other students find out what has happened, there could be jealousy. I don’t want anyone to think I didn’t earn my way through this school or received preferential treatment.”‘

      He started to interrupt, but she held up her hand.

      “No, it’s true, Dan,” she continued earnestly. “Some of the jocks will accuse me of that, regardless. But I don’t want the reputation of other women who might follow in my footsteps tarnished because of my...indiscretion.”

      He pursed his lips. “You have a relevant point,” he conceded. “But what we do on our off-hours is no one’s business but our own.”

      Her nostrils flared. “Come on! You know that in a tight little community such as ours, talk gets around. And eventually, it will land right here at TPS. I just can’t jeopardize my chances of becoming a test pilot. What would Colonel Martin think of this if he knew?” she challenged.

      Dan leaned back in the chair, enjoying the play of emotions across her features. “Tell me to be discreet. Which I will be.”

      “You haven’t heard a word I said!”

      “Calm down. I’m aware of your feelings and your concern for your reputation. And I don’t intend to embarrass you publicly here with the male students.”

      She gave him an accusing look. “You’ve got this all planned, haven’t you?”

      “I’m a test pilot by nature, Chris. I preplan as much as I can and then carry it through.” A grin edged his mouth. “Come on, are you going to sit there and tell me you didn’t enjoy that kiss?”

      She blushed beautifully, at a loss for words, for once. “You just keep your distance,” she warned throatily, her violet eyes golden with fire.

      His grin widened. “Is that threat for my benefit or yours?”

      “You’re impossible, McCord! I’ve never run into a jock like you in my whole life! Where did they find you?”

      He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of the coffee, his eyes filled with laughter. “I’m one of a kind, Raven. Your kind. And don’t forget it. Because if you try to, I’ll be right there to remind you.”

      She stood, infuriated and frustrated with him. “Thanks for the coffee and the flight, Major. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go study. At least my books won’t talk back to me!”

      “Hey,” he called, sitting back up, reaching for a manual. “Before you storm out of here, take this and read it.”

      Chris turned, giving him a black glare. “What is it?”

      “The F-4 manual. You might as well eat, drink and sleep this baby until you can recite it forward and backward. I’m going to test you on it next week. So be ready.”

      She stared at the three-inch-thick manual and then at him. Jerking it from his hand, she muttered, “With you, I’m ready for anything!”

      4

      “I DON’T CARE if the Joint Chiefs of Staff blessed this affair,” Captain Richard Brodie growled, his feet propped up on a desk. “There’s no way a broad can be a test pilot.” He looked up at his two companions who loitered nearby at their respective desks. It was 1245 and most of their fellow students were filtering in for their afternoon classes, which would start promptly at 1300.

      “I dunno, Brodie, it’s been almost three weeks and that ‘broad’ as you call her, isn’t looking too bad,” Captain Greg Rondo said, a grin on his wide, handsome features. “Take a look at how good Mallory’s doing in the F-4. She ain’t no slouch at the stick, buddy.”

      Rondo was quick to recognize from the outset of his assignment to TPS that every student possessed a marked degree of overachieving drive and desire. He was no exception. He thrived on competition—if not with himself, then pitting his skills against another pilot or taming a shrewish jet aircraft. Yes, they were all winners bent on being the best, setting high personal standards and demands for themselves.

      Brodie snorted, turning the paper coffee cup around on his desk. “Screw her.” He lifted his head, glaring up at Rondo. “She’s an icy bitch if I ever saw one.”

      Rondo sat down next to him. “She’s got hands, though,” he pointed out, delighting in poking holes in Brodie’s opinionated stance. “Take a look at her test scores in Double Ugly. The gal ain’t flying extra hours for nothing. And from what I’ve seen, she handles the jet real well.”

      “You’re only saying that because you want to get close to her,” Brodie growled.

      Rondo smiled. “I think she’s kind’a interesting, myself. Good hands, good in the classroom. I’d like to fly with her.” A glint came to his light blue eyes. “I’ll bet that girl could do an inside loop with Ugly and come out smiling.”

      Brodie shook his head. “Nobody puts an F-4 into an inside loop and lives to tell about it, buddy. You know that as well as I do.”

      Rondo shrugged his thin, wiry shoulders. “Just give me a chance to go up with Mallory, and I’ll show her what an F-4 can really do.”

      “You’ll probably scare the hell out of her,” Brodie said, chuckling. “Man, she’s cold.”

      “Well, with jocks like you aiming to shoot her down, I don’t blame her for not being none too friendly,” Rondo challenged.

      Brodie returned to dutifully turning the cup around in long slender fingers. Mallory was an enigma. She was the epitome of a grade-A student: attentive, serious and worked her rear off on any project assigned to her. A thread of jealousy ate at him. For two weeks he had suffered the ribbing of the other pilots because Mallory had turned him down for a date. There had to be a way to get to her, he finally decided. But what was the key? He had watched in silence as Julio Mendez, the engineering officer from Brazil, had made peace with Mallory. She treated Mendez with deference and politeness, and the Brazilian officer flew as often as he could with Mallory. They were making an impressive team in the standings, gradewise.

      He scanned the half-filled classroom of men in green flight suits. Everyone had finished their morning flights by now and was ready to tackle the arduous afternoon of mathematics, theory and aerodynamics. What made Mallory tick? He pursed his thin lips, his brows dipping downward. What got to her? The only time she ever changed was when Captain Karen Barber came around. They were obviously friends, and that was when Mallory seemed most at ease. Somebody had to get to her and force her to screw up. A woman couldn’t stand the pressure.

      He made a mental note to contact a friend of his from Reese Air Force Base, where Mallory had been an instructor pilot. Maybe he could dig up some juicy gossip to spread around. Brodie was angry because eighty percent of the class accepted the woman as a bona-fide student. He fumed inwardly. How could a test pilot evaluate equipment for the military if she hadn’t flown in combat?

      Everyone was meandering around, holding their perennial cups of coffee, textbooks placed dutifully in front of their desks, talking about the morning’s flights. Brodie saw Karen Barber bounce through the classroom door. Her hair was in ruffled disarray, her eyes sparkling and a smile on her lips. Wasn’t there always a quick smile for everyone from Barber? Often she would

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