Love Me Before Dawn. Lindsay McKenna

Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

      Chapter 1

      OCTOBER 15, 1973

      I DON’T WANT TO GO, TESS THOUGHT. SHE STOPPED arranging the mass of dark auburn hair at the nape of her neck and studied her strained features in the antique mirror. Why can’t I be enthusiastic? Cy is excited about this party. She avoided her blue-eyed reflection, studying the ivory, high-necked gown instead. Reflexively her slender fingers tucked in the last strands, fashioning a chignon. With the hair pulled back from her square, high-cheekboned face, she looked older than her twenty-four years. As she raised her eyes she saw the anguish clearly written in them. Would he notice it? She sighed to herself. Not likely. As one of the chief design engineers at Rockwell International, Cy Hamilton had eyes only for the B-1 bomber blueprints.

      “Darling? Are you about ready?” Cy sauntered into the large, tastefully decorated bedroom. He ran a hand through his graying hair, a paternal smile fixed on his mouth. He came over, giving her a perfunctory kiss upon her cheek. “You look lovely, as usual.”

      Tess forced a smile for his benefit. “Thank you, Cy. I’m almost done.”

      He stood behind her, his arms crossed against his chest, watching her critically in the mirror. “God couldn’t have created a more provocative creature. I swear, I fell in love with you the first time I saw you at Rockwell.” He smiled wryly. “You were quite a sight, you know. Your blue eyes sparkling with life and your lips,” he leaned over, lightly touching his lips to hers, “sweet temptation.”

      Tess felt the heat of a blush rushing upward along her slender neck and into her face. She chided herself for still blushing at age twenty-four. Would she ever outgrow that embarrassing trait? “Really, Cy!”

      He chuckled indulgently, retrieving her delicately wrought shawl of old Irish lace from the bed. Her grandmother had given it to her. It was a family tradition to pass the shawl to a deserving member of the clan. At first Cy had tried to discourage her from wearing it to social functions. He wanted her in modern, sophisticated clothes that befitted her position in the company. He smiled to himself: she was such a child yet. Perhaps being pushed three grades ahead in the first years of schooling had affected her emotionally. He arranged the ivory and pale pink shawl around her proud shoulders, giving her a pat on the arm. Looking at Tess with pride, he wondered if others besides himself saw the incredible intelligence behind that delicate Irish face.

      Cy remained silent as they drove to the party. Tonight marked another important step in the B-1 bomber project. Right now, the tail section, wings and fuselage lay on the hangar floor. His brow furrowed in thought. “I think,” he began slowly, glancing over at Tess’s clean, delicate profile, “this party is going to be a political shakedown of sorts.”

      “How well I know!” It was common knowledge that Senator Stockwell was going to publicly confront his nemesis, Senator Browning, at the party. Tess shook her head. “Cy, you never told me that being your administrative assistant was going to get me involved in so much political intrigue.” Tess had come to Rockwell International as part of the management team on the B-1 project. Although she lacked a degree in aeronautical engineering, her MBA gave her the necessary background to handle all accounting and finances for the drafting section that Cy supervised. Without her keen, creative input, his department would not have run so smoothly. Yes, she and Cy made an unbeatable team. They each thrived on challenges of different sorts. Cy had gathered together the top draftsmen and design engineers in the country to build the long-range bomber. She looked after all the details ranging from accounting to lab tests, making sure Cy was never burdened with minor but often important problems. She placed her hand against her breast. “I wish I was more sophisticated…more—”

      “Tess, you’re learning beautifully. I’m very proud of your progress to date. Remember, you only received your MBA from Harvard two years ago. You can’t help it if you’ve been sequestered in school until recently. Education has honed your fine mind, and it’s only natural that your social expertise is less well developed.” He patted her hand, seeing her distress. “You’ll do fine,” he soothed.

      “I worry about not saying the right thing the right way,” Tess protested softly. Already her throat was closing up from tension. Oh, God, why couldn’t it just be another chatty, boring cocktail party? Why did it have to be a sit-down dinner for one hundred and fifty of the most influential people involved with the innovative bomber? Not only would top Rockwell officials be there, but key political figures, lobbyists and aggressive, shrewd staffers. And then there was the Air Force. Actually, Tess felt the safest with them. The military and civilian test pilots were harmless in comparison to the politicos.

      “Well,” she murmured throatily, “if you find that I’ve disappeared, you’ll know I’ve discovered a secluded balcony away from all the intrigue, Cy. I much prefer the landscape to the lobbying that’s going to go on.”

      Cy chuckled indulgently at his young wife. At forty-nine he couldn’t have stumbled into a better living situation. He had been in search for an administrative assistant to help him juggle his load as chief engineer on the aeronautical design project. So impressed was he with Tess, he soon made her his wife as well as his team member. And the arrangement was working well. Tess was growing into her job and performing admirably despite the fact that she was one of the few women in top management within Rockwell. By the time he retired, Tess would be a perceptive, capable diplomat capable of standing on her own within the company.

      “I do have matters to discuss with Senator Diane Browning from California,” he said in a by-the-way tone.

      “At least it will be a friendly conversation.”

      Cy chuckled. “Yes, she’s on our side. Thank God for hawk senators.”

      Tess wrinkled her nose. “Going to speak to Senator Stockwell?”

      “Of course. The cardinal rules of politics—smile, be polite, and be inoffensive.”

      “I can smile, I can work at being polite. But inoffensive?” Tess groaned, throwing her head back and closing her eyes momentarily. “St. Patrick deliver me from this den of wolves I’m dining with tonight. Just don’t let me become their meal.”

      “You won’t,” Cy said, laughing. One moment Tess could be so serious and adult. The next she would lapse into the naive candor he was trying to curb. “You’re much too small a fish in the political pond, so to speak. I think it would be a good idea if you acquainted yourself with the military tonight while I make the rounds. You’re familiar with the B-1 blueprints, but you haven’t made the effort to see the actual building of the plane or to acquaint yourself with the pilots who will test it.”

      “I know, part of my education,” she mimicked gently. How like Cy to guide her into the next lesson in his plan. “Test pilots are far safer than politicians. I’ll welcome the change,” she returned fervently.

      “They are ‘safe,’ as you say,” Cy nodded. “Most of them are fairly taciturn. They’re taught to test and observe. Chances are you’ll have to carry the conversation with them unless you get them talking on the B-1.”

      “That’s fine with me.”

      The California night was warm for October. Cy proudly escorted his tall, lissome wife into the lobby of the elegant hotel in downtown Los Angeles. Guiding her with a sureness born of his status and position in the company, he motioned Tess into the brass elevator.

      Tess nervously hid her damp hands by burying them in the shawl against her breast. Inwardly she steeled herself, fighting back the panic that would fill her the instant the doors opened. Life had been so simple back on campus. The moment she married Cy, she had stepped into an unfamiliar, changing landscape. A landscape that she feared she would never be at home in.

      * * *

      Captain Shepherd Ramsey