Always And Forever. Lindsay McKenna

if Mike would turn out the same way after being in combat.

      Forcing herself to return to the task at hand, Gale busied herself with scrambling the eggs while the bacon finished frying. Her hands trembled. Trying to laugh at the absurd notion that Kyle’s presence was responsible, Gale focused on Mike. She had met him a year ago over at Operations, where the meteorology department was located. He’d come in early one morning, angry over the fact his weather plan hadn’t been ready in time for his flight. On his return to base two days later, Mike had taken her out to an expensive restaurant in Sacramento to apologize for his less-than-gentlemanly behavior. Over the next six months, they’d fallen in love. Their happiness was complete until Mike abruptly received orders to Thailand. They had decided to get married before he left.

      Frowning, Gale stirred the eggs briskly in the hot skillet. Vietnam. War. Death. She felt her heart contract powerfully with fear. It wasn’t fair that Mike was going to be torn away from her a month after they became husband and wife. What in life was fair? Not much. Kyle’s face haunted her. Shutting her eyes, Gale took a deep breath. What kind of crazy joke was being played on her? She loved Mike! So what were all these new and startling feelings she’d had since she had been introduced to Kyle?

      Forcing herself to concentrate, Gale removed the skillet from the burner and put a lid over it to keep the eggs warm. At twenty-three, she thought she knew herself. It was true Mike was the first man she’d fallen in love with, but she’d had a lot of dates throughout college before joining the Air Force. Now, the nights she’d tossed and turned, dreaming of both Mike and Kyle, had left her nerves raw and taut. How could she be attracted to Kyle? Perhaps because he was Mike’s best friend and they were similar in some ways.

      Reaching blindly for the skillet that held the bacon, Gale bumped the pan containing the hot grease off the electric burner. Unthinkingly, Gale reached out, trying to catch it. Hot grease splattered across her right hand. Pain reared up her arm, and she cried out, leaping back as the skillet crashed to the floor, the grease flung in all directions.

      “Gale!” Her scream galvanized Kyle into action. In an instant, he was at her side, his arm going around her shoulders, holding the reddened hand that had been burned.

      “Oh, damn...” she sobbed, gripping her wrist, trying not to let the pain overwhelm her. Sinking against his strong, supporting body, Gale felt safe. Kyle’s breathing was punctuated, harsh near her ear, his breath moist against her cheek.

      “So stupid,” she whispered, a catch in her voice. “I—I’m sorry....”

      “It’s all right. Come on, get over to the sink. Cold water will help,” he whispered, guiding her in that direction. The burn on her hand didn’t look nasty but still his heart was pounding in his chest and he felt shaky. After fumbling with the handle on the cold-water spigot, Kyle turned it on and forced her hand beneath the stream.

      The water hit her flesh and Gale sucked in a breath, then bit her lower lip.

      “Lean on me,” Kyle ordered huskily as he felt her tremble. She obeyed him. Her perfume, light and delicate, struck his flaring nostrils. It was the way she fitted against him that nearly unstrung him. Her hair, slightly wavy, felt like silk against the hard line of his jaw. Kyle ached to lean down and kiss her. “Take it easy, easy...” he coaxed, his voice low and unsteady.

      For several minutes Gale was unable to do anything except feel. Feel the lessening of the pain, feel Kyle’s strong, powerful body against hers. His breath was choppy, and she was aware of his heart beating frantically in his chest where she lay against him. His touch was excruciatingly gentle as he placed a cloth over her hand after turning off the faucet.

      “Come on, sit down. You’re shaky.”

      Wasn’t that the truth, Gale thought, allowing Kyle to guide her to a chair at the table. Her watery knees had nothing to do with the burn, but with him holding her as if she were some fragile, priceless treasure.

      Worriedly, Kyle studied her, his hand firm on her shoulder. Gale was waxen, and when she raised those dark, long lashes to look up at him, he felt as if someone had gut punched him. Dizziness assailed him, and his grip tightened on her shoulder momentarily. Large eyes, huge black pupils surrounded by a vibrant green, stared back at him. Gale’s cry had torn him apart, ripping away all his pretenses, his good sense.

      Kyle went to the sink and dampened a wash cloth. Gale sat with her head bowed. She looked so hauntingly vulnerable, her shoulders slumped forward. Fighting all his rising, chaotic feelings, Kyle crouched in front of her.

      “Here, this ought to help,” he said. He removed one cloth and laid the new one across the injury. Kyle heard Gale breathe in raggedly, but she didn’t cry out. He kept a grip on her arm. His heart refused to stop thudding in his chest, his pulse pounding until every beat was like the beat of a kettle drum being played within him.

      When Kyle looked up and saw tears form and then fall down Gale’s cheeks, he lost what little control he had left. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded thickly, cupping her cheek with his hand. He stared deeply into her eyes.

      “Oh, Kyle...” she choked out.

      Her lips parted, lush and inviting, and Kyle started to lean forward.

      “Hey, where’s everybody at?” Mike called from the living room.

      Kyle froze, his hand slipping from Gale’s face. He stood, dizzied and shocked by what had almost happened. “In here, buddy.”

      Mike appeared at the doorway. Dressed in his blue winter uniform, he took off his garrison cap. Immediately, he went to Gale’s side and knelt on one knee next to her.

      “Honey?” He gently cradled her hand. “What happened?”

      Gale made a frustrated sound. “I made a dumb move at the stove and splashed grease over my hand, Mike. It’s nothing. I’ll be okay.”

      Kyle backed away in a daze. What the hell had just happened? He had been ready to kiss Gale! Shocked, he left the kitchen and went to the living room. Hands shoved into his pants pockets, Kyle was angry and upset with himself.

      Gale was barely able to think. If Mike hadn’t arrived when he had, she knew Kyle would have kissed her. His eyes had been hooded, stormy with unrequited need. She trembled, but it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of anticipation of the unexpected. When Kyle had held her, he’d made the pain go away. She shook her head, forcing her attention to Mike, who had retrieved some salve to put on the minor burn.

      It was all craziness! It was the stress of the wedding, the war and the fact that Mike was going to leave in a month. The pressures on all of them were great. Kyle was Mike’s best friend, Gale rationalized, and he had simply reacted out of loyalty.

      Kyle slowly paced the perimeter of the living room, head down in thought. Mike would never know what had transpired. The wedding would go on as planned. Kyle would be Mike’s best man, and he would be happy for both of them....

      Savagely rubbing his face, he knew it had to be the jet lag, the shock of stepping out of the war in Southeast Asia and returning to the States. It had to be.

Chapter 2

       December 24, 1974 Castle Air Force Base, California

      Gale sat in the living room of her base home, several letters and a magazine in her lap. The house was quiet. Deadly quiet. She had just gotten off duty at the meteorology department and the holiday stretched out unendingly before her. This year there was no tree in the corner, no decorations in evidence, not even Christmas music to take the edge off the silence that surrounded her. The coolness in her home seeped through her uniform, making her feel chilled more than she should be.

      Six months after marrying Mike, he’d been lost over Hanoi during a bombing raid. Was he a prisoner of war—or dead? No one knew. She slowly looked at the first letter, wishing it was from Mike, but it wasn’t.

      Instead,