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  “Roger that,” Rhona said lightly, shutting down the engine and beginning to flip switches here and there across the control panel. Just the brush of Nolan’s body against her shoulder sent wild tingles of pleasure up and down her arm. She felt happy for the first time in days. Nolan was proving to be a far better man than she’d ever hoped he could be. Laura Trayhern had been correct in her intuitions regarding him. Now Rhona looked forward to the trip back with him, and to the many long hours together in the days ahead.

  Even though it was raining, the sky was a turgid green-gray, and disaster still escalated around them, Rhona felt a frisson of happiness she’d never experienced before. As she unharnessed, then headed toward the rear to help Nolan unsnap the nylon webbing around the cargo, she sighed. The day might be bleak, but to her, there was nothing but sunshine out there.

  January 10: 0730

  “So,” Nolan said as they climbed to three thousand feet to begin their flight back to Camp Reed, “tell me more about this neem oil. It sounds like a great product that everyone in the world could use on crops instead of that poisonous stuff that’s slowly killing all of us, getting in our drinking water and food.”

  Laughing, Rhona said, “You’ve hit the nail on the head, Nolan. That’s exactly what neem oil could be. The neem tree is one of the most common trees in India and found everywhere on the subcontinent. Ironically, I stumbled upon it when I was back home, in Sedona, Arizona, when I went to a cousin’s wedding.” She gave him a grin. “My cousin married an ex-Recon Marine from Camp Reed—Captain Thane Hamilton. Small world, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Nolan murmured, rubbing his chin, “it sure is.” The sky was lightening up, the rain beginning to ease off. He swept his gaze across the cockpit panel. At the speed they were going, the wind acted as wipers, removing the water from the Plexiglas.

  “My cousin who got married, Paige Black, is a registered nurse at the local hospital. She found out about neem oil in a scientific paper that was printed up in one of the medical magazines. She gave it to me to read. At first, the oil sounded too good to be true, but over in India, people traditionally use neem on all their cuts and scrapes, or took it internally for parasite and worm infestations. It has a long, long history of saving lives when no modern medical drugs were available. So now the rest of the world is slowly discovering neem oil.”

  “How did you decide to use it as a spray on crops?”

  Chuckling, Rhona said, “I thought it up on my own. The paper said the people of India mixed the oil with water and poured it over plants in their gardens to save them from all kinds of bugs that would normally eat them up. I just extrapolated from that, wondering what would happen if I used it as a spray on hundreds or thousands of acres.” Rhona shrugged and grinned at him. She saw the look of admiration on Nolan’s face. “It worked. I’ve been doing crop dusting for a year, and the farmers who tried it, who risked their crops in my experiment, saw that it worked. Now I’ve got more business than I can handle.” Her brows fell. “At least, until this earthquake came along.”

  “That’s pretty impressive,” Nolan murmured. He liked the way her wonderful mouth curved in an elfish smile. What would it be like to kiss her? That thought had been hanging at the edge of his consciousness for over twenty-four hours. Was he ready for another relationship? He wasn’t sure. Two years had passed since his wife had died. For the most part, the pain of his loss was gone, but never forgotten. Rhona was nothing like Carol, but that didn’t stop him from liking her…or wanting her. Giving himself a mental shake, Nolan pulled himself together. They were in a disaster situation, an ongoing crisis where danger and death surrounded them every hour of the day. And it would continue like this for months to come, he feared. He didn’t even want to think about the people who were dying now…or those who would in future. It was just too daunting, too emotionally wrenching to accept. Now he understood, as never before, what it meant to be in a terrible disaster. They had always hit in other places around the world, never here. Until now.

  So, he pondered, could he trust these feelings that were growing for Rhona? Was it the disaster causing him to feel this way? The unexpected and violent death of his two friends? Was it the inevitable camaraderie in the face of death and disaster that was drawing him to her? Or was it something else?

  Unsure, he at least knew that he could no longer stop wanting her. And the way Rhona gazed at him—well, that soft, gray-eyed look of hers made him melt, made him yearn to be in her arms, to kiss her, to love her. Phew! The long hours, the sleep deprivation, the pressures were really getting to him. He had to be crazy.

  Rhona kept her attention on flying back to the base. Still, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help thinking about Nolan. How he looked at her now, without the anger or prejudice he’d once felt. How his mouth was no longer tight with censure. Giddily, she tried to tell herself that she shouldn’t be responding to him like that. He was a widower. She’d just broken off an engagement. What was real right now? Rhona wasn’t sure. Feeling as if she were being tossed around emotionally like a tennis ball in a tournament, she decided to try and remain quiet and calm. Only, when Nolan looked at her, she felt a joy she’d never experienced before, and that jangled her, tempted and teased her as nothing ever had.

  “So, you’re half Navajo?” Nolan asked. “What’s that like? I don’t know much about Indians. My father is an auto mechanic who owns his own business back in Klamath Falls. My mother is a CPA and works out of their home.”

  “By any chance, are they Irish?” she chuckled.

  Laughing, Nolan nodded. “Yeah. Can you tell?” He pointed to his long, lean face. “Black Irish is what my father calls me. I take after my mother’s side of the family. They were potato Irish from around the Galway area.”

  “Not too far removed from the old country?”

  “That’s right. My father is an immigrant. I’m the first generation American over here.”

  “I like your Irish looks.”

  Warmth flowed up into Nolan’s face. His grin was uneven and slightly embarrassed. “Thanks…I think.”

  “It gives you a very handsome look,” Rhona assured him with a confident smile. “At least, in my eyes.”

  “Two compliments in a row. We’re on a roll here,” he murmured, very pleased with how she saw him. There was a pink flush on her cheeks, and her smile was shy.

  “Maybe it’s that Marine Corps thing, you know?” she teased. “The few, the proud. I think you could be a poster boy for their print campaign.”

  “I’ll call ’em up and tell ’em you said that.” Nolan had a good gut laugh over that one. Inwardly, he preened with male pride at her assessment. She thought he was good-looking. He felt his heart warm at her words. Suddenly, he decided to share his humorous side with Rhona. Something told Nolan she had a great sense of humor, too.

  “You know what President Reagan said about us?” Nolan asked, grinning.

  “Uh-oh, here come some of those famous marine sayings.” Rhona chuckled. “No. What did he say about you?”

  “Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference. Marines don’t have that problem.”

  Rolling her eyes, Rhona said, “Forgive your pride.”

  “Here’s another really good one.”

  “Spare me, will you?”

  “Naw, not a chance.” He gave her a gleeful smile. The repartee between them was warm and alive. “To err is human, to forgive divine. However, neither is Marine Corps policy.”

  “That is true!” Rhona said. “Makes me glad I was in the navy.”

  “I’ve got a million of them.” He waved his hand in excitement. “Marines are special.”

  “Yeah, you sure are,” she replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

  “Marines never die! They just go to hell and regroup.”

  Rhona held her stomach for a moment; it was aching because she was laughing so hard.

  Nolan’s expression turned serious as he said, “This thing going on in are
a five makes me recall a good saying. too. ‘When in doubt, empty the magazine.’”

  Rhona’s own smile faded. “Yes, and even an ex-navy pilot will follow that wise Marine Corps order if we see any of those goons coming our way. I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later.”

  Despite the reminder of the dangers of their situation it felt good to laugh a little. Black humor always raised its head when things got tense and dangerous. As she’d found out during the Gulf War, it just came with the territory.

  Rhona felt heat stinging her cheeks suddenly. She glanced quickly in Nolan’s direction. His eyes were warm…and inviting. Suddenly, the prospect of sleeping in that tiny, cramped tent with him became exciting and fearful at the same time. Could she trust herself with him that close to her? How badly Rhona wished she could reach out and snuggle into his arms. The world was deteriorating around them, coming loose at the hinges, tumbling out of control. Right now, the need for somewhere safe, someone loving, made her yearn keenly for Nolan.

  Shocked at where her thoughts and heart were going, Rhona gulped. Quickly, she refocused on her flying. No matter what she did, however, the hot, burning coals of desire continued to glow within her. She’d had nearly a year and a half of sexual abstinence. And much to Rhona’s chagrin, she was hungry for Nolan—in every way possible….

  Seven

  January 11: 0300

  Nolan slept deeply that night, like a man who had for too long denied himself the luxury of falling completely into that dark, healing abyss. The moment his head hit the rolled-up jacket he used as a pillow, he was gone. In his dreams, which he normally didn’t have, he saw Rhona. Her thick black hair was loose, flying around her shoulders like the ebony mane of a running horse. He was looking at her wonderful face, how broad it was, her cheekbones high revealing the Native American blood running through her. Now he knew why her skin was so golden. At first he’d thought she spent a lot of time out in the sun, getting a good, dark tan. How wrong he’d been.

  In his dream, she was smiling at him with those warm, understanding gray eyes, and walking toward him. Her olive-green flight suit hung on her, camouflaging all her delicious womanly curves, but that didn’t matter to Nolan. When she raised her arms, he stepped forward to take her in his. The moment her strong, lithe body met his, he groaned. She felt so damn good against him, and he could feel the strength of her, as her arms, firm and surprisingly strong, wrapped about his rib cage. The sensation was so real, Nolan could swear he wasn’t dreaming. As he reveled in the sensation of her soft, warm breath against the curve of his neck, the pressure of her head coming to rest on his shoulder, and the tickle of her silky hair against his chin and lips, he sighed. He curved his arm around her and pulled her even closer.

  In his dream, he felt the rise and fall of her small breasts against his torso. She was snuggling softly against his left side, her body melting into his. The sensations were electrifying, and heat surged through his lower body, jerking Nolan awake.

  It was dark, except for the single shaft of grayish light from the airport coming in through the flaps of the tent. Lifting his head, Nolan felt heaviness against his left shoulder. Sleep fled completely as he lay back down. To his shock, he realized that sometime during the night Rhona had rolled over and into his arms. Lying there, Nolan blinked rapidly. In the distance, he heard another jet landing; probably a C-131 Hercules from the sound of the screaming, whistling turboprop engines. His awareness centered on Rhona once again.

  Lying very still, unable to believe that this was real, Nolan realized his arms were around her. It was cold, he told himself. And very damp. Even now it was near freezing in their tent. Nolan told himself that she had probably gotten cold and unconsciously rolled over, seeking body heat to warm herself.

  He was sure Rhona was asleep. He could feel her warm, moist breath moving like a wisp of a feather against his neck, where she’d pressed her face. Slowly lifting his arm from around her, he dared to do something he’d been itching to do for a long time—touch her hair. It was loose and free. He vaguely recalled that, as he’d crashed and burned the night before, she had sat cross-legged on top of her sleeping bag and released that thick ebony cascade. That was the last thing he saw before his eyes dragged shut from exhaustion after the day’s harrowing events.

  Holding his breath momentarily, Nolan realized Rhona’s right arm was curved across his chest, her hand dangling on the right side of his rib cage outside the sleeping bag where he lay. How good it felt to have a woman’s weight against him once again. Not daring to hope for anything other than this stolen, unexpected moment, Nolan raised his fingers and moved them very carefully through the strands of hair spread across his chest.

  How strong and silky it felt slipping silently through his greedy fingers. How thick, healthy and clean smelling. Nolan inhaled deeply. Rhona felt so damned good to him—good enough to erase all the exhaustion, the stress, the danger. There was nothing like this, Nolan knew—holding a woman he loved in his arms.

  His fingers froze in midair, the strands sifting and tumbling silently back to his chest. Hold on. He couldn’t love Rhona. No, it was impossible. Love didn’t happen this fast. Or did it? He’d known his wife all his life before marrying her after graduation from the Naval Academy.

  Frowning, Nolan closed his eyes and eased his arm around Rhona once more. Just getting to lie here with her was a gift of such incredible value that he felt close to tears. Since his wife’s death, he’d not been interested in women, in a relationship of any kind. And now Rhona came striding into his life, a woman warrior commensurate in skill to him. She was probably better than him, he admitted, because she’d not only seen combat, but survived it.

  Was it possible to fall in love like this? Nolan lay there listening vaguely to the jets landing and taking off outside their tent. Relaxed and warm, as if still in a dream state, he tried to figure out what was happening. The urge to kiss Rhona was tearing at him. How many times had he wondered what it would be like to kiss her shiny blue-black hair? Or seek that soft mouth of hers, which flexed with every emotion revealed in her rabbit-gray eyes?

  He felt Rhona’s body jerk suddenly, as if she’d been electrified. Tightening his arms around her, he felt her tense up. A moan slipped from her lips.

  “Shh,” he whispered unsteadily, his mouth pressed against her frowning brow. “It’s okay, darlin’…you’re safe. No one is gonna hurt you…you’re safe. You hear me?” His voice drifted off into the night, absorbed by the sounds of the eerily shrieking jets.

  Almost instantly, Rhona relaxed. He felt her take a shuddering breath into her lungs, and then release it in a warm, moist flow across his neck and shoulder. His voice had calmed her. Had soothed her. Amazed by it all, Nolan lay there feeling like a man who had been granted one last dying request before he went to the gallows. This was an extraordinary woman in his arms. She was all warrior, but still so feminine. He couldn’t quite make the two mix in his mind. At least, not yet. Nolan had never wanted to think of any woman as a warrior like himself—he supposed because he felt threatened by the possibility. Yet Rhona was his equal in every way, and he no longer felt threatened by her. If he was honest with himself, he would admit he admired her greatly, his respect for her building hourly. There was nothing to dislike about her, Nolan decided. She was a plus in every way.

  His heart began to open, and the feeling was very real to Nolan. It was as if his heart were a tightly closed rosebud that now, petal by petal, was opening up in his chest. The joy that came with it was new to him. It stymied him. What was the cause of this happiness that almost made him want to laugh out loud, to dance? A ribbon of sunlight wrapped around his heart, and the intensity of his feelings toward Rhona left him stunned and breathless in the wake of his discovery.

  There was no denying any longer that he was interested in her. Yet Nolan was scared. He’d lost one woman he’d loved. Deep down, he knew he was a coward. There was no way he could reach out emotionally and love any woman again becaus
e the cost of loving was simply too high a price to pay. It had taken two long, nightmarish years to put his grief over his loss behind him. And now this woman who lay trusting and asleep in his arms was snagging his heart and opening it. Asking him to reach out and love again.

  Closing his eyes, Nolan took in a ragged, painful breath of air. Something bade him to kiss Rhona. At least kiss her once. Yes, that was all he would need: one stolen, chaste kiss. Aching to feel her lips against his, Nolan rose carefully up on his left elbow, cuddling her head against his arm. The thin, weak light revealed her to him as he lay on his side, absorbing her vulnerable features into his starving heart.

  Moving a thick strand of hair off her cheek, Nolan fought within himself. It wasn’t right to kiss her without her knowledge. She would wake up. And then what? Slap him? Get angry? Rightfully so, he realized. His brows drew downward. No, this wasn’t right. He could taste her—but not this way. He wanted Rhona badly, but not like this. She had to want to kiss him as well. Right now it was one-sided, and that wouldn’t work.

  Easing back down, Nolan continued to lie on his left side. He brought Rhona gently against him once more, closed his eyes and spiraled into sleep. This time it was dreamless, but the knowledge that she lay in his arms was all he really needed for now.

  January 11: 0500

  Rhona awoke slowly. She stretched, luxuriously, because she felt warm and safe. As she moved her arm, she realized drowsily that she was lying against something. Pulling her eyes open, she could barely see anything in the weak gray light of dawn. The tent shook as a jet landed. Where was she?

  As if in a delicious dream, Rhona looked up…and realized with a start that Nolan was not only awake, but looking down at her with a hooded warmth lingering in his smoky green eyes—warmth toward her. And then, as she slowly came awake, Rhona realized she was lodged right up against him, from head to toe. One corner of Nolan’s mouth was hitched upward, but he wasn’t laughing at her. No, the look in his eyes told her he wanted her as a woman—that he wanted to lean across those scant inches that separated them and kiss her.