Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Tailspin

Tailspin
Cara Summers


Subject: Air Force Captain Nash Fortune Current Status: On assignment, teaching at the Air Force Academy Mission: Brief his former flame on long–ago event. Full disclosure. Obstacle: Their past. Their future. And a very distracting present!Bianca Quinn makes her living writing true–crime books. Her latest book is about a decade–old case involving a missing cadet– a case somebody doesn't want opened. And her best source of intel? None other than her still–way–too–hot high–school sweetheart, Nash Fortune….But this is no sweet, shy reunion. That same heated chemistry is still very potent, and Bianca and Nash find themselves losing control– fast! Can they pull out of the tailspin…or do they dare find out just how far this desire might go?







Twelve military heroes.

Twelve indomitable heroines.

One UNIFORMLY HOT! miniseries.

Don’t miss a story in Harlequin Blaze’s

12-book continuity series, featuring irresistible

soldiers from all branches of the armed forces.

Now serving—

those reckless and wild flyboys in the U.S. Air Force…

TAILSPIN

by Cara Summers

July 2011

HOT SHOT

by Jo Leigh

August 2011

NIGHT MANEUVERS

by Jillian Burns

September 2011

Uniformly Hot!—

The Few. The Proud. The Sexy as Hell!







Dear Reader,

I thoroughly enjoyed writing Tailspin, my second contribution to Harlequin Blaze’s Uniformly Hot! miniseries. There’s something irresistible about a man in uniform… And my Air Force fighter pilot, Captain Nash Fortune, is a prime example….

When Nash Fortune was nineteen and a cadet at the air force academy, he fell in love with seventeen-year-old Bianca Quinn. It was the kind of reckless love that defies reason. But she backed out of their plans to elope. Worse, she accepted a bribe from his grandmother to disappear from his life.

Eleven years have passed, and Bianca—now a successful writer—is back in Nash’s life and asking for his help on a story that involves a missing cadet, a former classmate of his. The problem is that he wants her just as intensely as he always did. Once again, she’s sending him into a tailspin, and it will take all of his skills to pull out of it safely. That is, if he wants to….

I believe in second chances. They’re always riskier than the first ones. I hope you’ll enjoy Bianca’s and Nash’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and that you’ll look for Nash’s friend Jonah’s story in December.

Happy endings always!

Cara Summers




Tailspin

Cara Summers







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Was Cara Summers born with the dream of becoming a published romance novelist? No. But now that she is, she still feels her dream has come true. She loves writing for the Harlequin Blaze line because it allows her to create strong, determined women and seriously sexy men who will risk everything to achieve their dreams. Cara has written more than thirty-five novels for Harlequin Books, and when she isn’t working on new stories, she teaches in the writing program at Syracuse University and at a community college near her home.


To Lt. Col. Ray “Borg” Bowen,

Commander and Professor of Aerospace Studies

at Syracuse University. Thank you so much for the

time you spent explaining to me what it means

to be in the Air Force and to fly fighter planes.

My story is so much richer because of you, and

I will treasure being an honorary “Airman” forever.




Contents


Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue




Prologue


PERFECT TIMING, Maggie Fortune thought as she climbed out of her red Corvette. The nearly empty parking lot told her that the noon Mass at the Church of St. Francis had ended so she and Father Mike Flynn could meet right away.

That suited her fine. What didn’t suit her was that even the fast ride in her sporty convertible hadn’t quite settled her nerves. Her birthday party started at five, but thanks to her houseman Grady, all the details had been seen to. It was her meeting with Father Mike that was making her nervous.

Ridiculous. She hurried toward the church. She’d known the priest when she’d been plain old Maggie Nash. They’d gone to grade school together. He’d married her to her late husband, Thaddeus Fortune IV, and he’d held her hand at the funerals of her husband and of her sons. And it wasn’t that she was up to anything that was morally wrong. She just wanted to cover all her bases.

So why were her hands damp? Damn it! Damn them!

She started up the long flight of stairs that led to the front door, taking pride in the fact that although she was celebrating her seventy-fifth birthday, she wasn’t short of breath when she reached the top.

Well, not very short of breath. Still, she caught herself taking a few deep ones as she hurried up the center aisle of the church. Dim light filtered through stained glass, but she made out a few people still lingering on the side altar where the statue of St. Francis stood enclosed in a glass case.

As her eyes grew more accustomed to the dimness, she watched the small group turn away and descend the steps. Then she spotted Father Mike still standing in front of the statue. Perfect, she thought again. She’d be in and out of here in fifteen minutes. Tops.

Her talent for timing things well had been helpful throughout her life and especially since her husband’s death twenty years ago when she’d taken over the job of running the Fortune family’s various business interests. In the corporate world, timing could be everything. And it was equally important in personal matters, too.

As she drew closer, Father Mike dropped to his knees to say a prayer. Not wanting to intrude, Maggie halted and let her gaze lift to the statue. It looked as small and unassuming as the first time she’d seen it. Originally, the marble figure had been donated to the Franciscan Capuchin order by an Italian family who’d immigrated to Denver from Assisi, Italy, where the saint had been born. Since that time, the statue of St. Francis had gained an ever increasing reputation for granting petitioners’ prayers. Nothing on the scale of a major miracle or anything like that. But people believed that the statue had some kind of special pull with God.

Back in February, the Denver Post had run an article containing story after story of how a visit to the statue had resulted in prayers being answered and lives being changed. The narratives ran the gamut of lovers being united, babies being conceived to families meeting up with lost loved ones.

Still studying the figure of St. Francis, she let her mind drift back fifteen years to the first time she’d encountered the statue. It had stood in the small garden next to the St. Francis Center for Boys. Father Mike had run afternoon and weekend programs there, and she still credited him with keeping her grandson Nash out of jail. Of course, Father Mike had always passed on any credit to St. Francis.

True, the prayers she’d said to the statue that first time in the prayer garden might have played a role. But Maggie was certain that if Nash hadn’t been able to occupy his after school and weekend hours at the center, and if it hadn’t been for the friends he’d made there, well…she doubted he’d be a captain in the Air Force today. And that had been his goal ever since he’d lost his father in the Gulf War.

That had been a terrible time for them both. Within a year, she’d lost a husband and a son. She’d had to take over the running of Fortune Enterprises and at the same time raise a seven-year-old boy who was a magnet for trouble.

Not that Nash was ever a bad boy. But he was impatient, impulsive and pretty damn creative when it came to getting into mischief. Qualities he’d probably inherited from her.

When his pranks had gotten him kicked out of two private schools in a year, she’d become desperate. And guilt ridden. She owed Father Mike big time. And the center. Okay, perhaps she owed St. Francis, too.

The priest rose and turned to face her just as she stepped to the foot of the altar. He hadn’t changed much at all in the time she’d known him. The eyes with their kindness and twinkle of mischief were still the same. Okay, the hair was definitely whiter, but his smile was just as brilliant as ever. And the aura of holiness was there as it always had been.

“Maggie, you look amazing.”

“I was just thinking the same about you.” When he held out his arms, she walked right into them and returned his hug. Her tension eased just a little.

Stepping back, he held on to her hands and studied her for a moment. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something. Is it your health?”

“No. I’m fine.” She’d had a recent bout of breast cancer, but so far she was on the winning end of that battle.

He gestured her toward the front row of pews and sat beside her. “What brings you to St. Francis?”

“The short answer is the same person who brought me to you and St. Francis eleven years ago.”

“Bianca Quinn?”

“Yes. I need your advice.”

“You’re always welcome to that—for what it’s worth.”

Maggie flicked a glance toward the statue, then met his eyes again. “Is it possible to reverse a prayer?”

“Reverse?” He asked the question in a musing tone and seemed to think about it for a moment. “Prayers aren’t like spells or curses. But you could certainly say a new one and tell St. Francis just what you want.”

“You remember what I asked him to help me with eleven years ago.”

“I do. You asked me to help you also. And you succeeded in persuading Bianca Quinn not to elope with your grandson, Nash. I was there in the room when she signed the agreement.”

Maggie studied him for a moment. She’d asked him to come that day because Bianca had thought so highly of him, and she’d known that his presence would add weight to her argument. But she’d never been sure that he’d entirely approved of what she’d done. She lifted her chin. “I did the right thing. I haven’t changed my mind about that. And,” she gestured toward the statue, “he answered that prayer better than I could have imagined. He filled in blanks I couldn’t have foreseen. Nash not only graduated from the Air Force Academy, he’s earned a medal of honor for his courage and is an exceptional pilot. And now Bianca is a published writer. She’s at the start of a wonderful career. If they’d gone through with their plans to marry, I doubt they’d be where they are today.”

“Then what’s troubling you, Maggie?”

She waved a hand. “I didn’t think to pray for all of that to happen. I only prayed that I could convince her to go away.”

“But you wanted them both to succeed in their careers and to be happy, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose.” She wasn’t aware until Father Mike put his hand over hers that she’d clasped them tightly together in her lap. Why in the world was she still so nervous? She’d gotten through board meetings and negotiated deals without batting an eye. And all she had to deal with here was a saint and a statue that had so far answered all her prayers with regard to her grandson.

“What do you want now, Maggie?”

“I want them to find again the kind of happiness that they found with each other when they were younger. I think they might belong together, the way I belonged with my Thad. He was it for me. I knew it the first time I looked at him. I think it may have been the same for Nash and Bianca.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, they haven’t found anyone else. In spite of the fact that the Denver Post chose Nash as one of the area’s most eligible bachelors. He’s not even bringing a date to my birthday party tonight. And Bianca has been totally focused on building her career.”

He smiled at her. “You want St. Francis to bring them back together. There’s your prayer. Just say it.”

“I don’t need to ask for that part. I’m already making sure their paths will cross again. They’ll meet again at my birthday party tonight.” She jerked her head at the statue. “I’d just like a little backup support. Because this time I want them to have what I took away from them the last time they parted. I want the happily ever after.” She paused. Sighed. “But I have a stake in this. It’s not just their happiness I want. It’s mine, too. I want family. I want Nash to have a family, too. I want grandchildren. I want more Fortune heirs.”

With a smile, Father Mike patted her hands. “Just ask St. Francis. The exact words don’t matter. He’ll know what’s in your mind just as he did the last time. Come.” He drew her to her feet and up the steps to the altar.

Perhaps it was that simple after all. But she was still tense even after she’d knelt in front of the statue and said her prayer.

Father Mike knelt down beside her. “Now, why don’t you ask him for the rest of what you came here for?”

When she turned to stare at him, he continued, “You said the short answer to why you’d come here today was Bianca Quinn. What’s the long answer? You might as well give St. Francis all of it.”

Maggie realized that was really what she’d come here to do. So she told Father Mike and St. Francis the rest.




1


SUN BEAT DOWN on the tarmac as Nash Fortune impatiently stopped his small plane just short of the runway. There was still one aircraft ahead of him, and it was filled with both eager and not so eager Air Force Academy cadets who were going up to practice their parachuting skills. The memory of his first jump from a plane had him grinning. That feeling of free-falling through space was the next best thing to flying.

Which was what he was here to do. If the plane ahead of him ever took off.

He figured he had about three hours until he was due at his grandmother’s birthday party bash. And each minute that ticked by cut short his flight time.

The morning he’d just put in had made him yearn for some time in the sky. The wind had picked up steadily all day, and more than once he’d found himself looking out of his classroom window. Teaching strategic flight maneuvers in a simulation lab appealed to him on an intellectual level, and it did provide the occasional adrenaline rush. But it wasn’t the same as the real thing.

This morning five of his students had asked him to open the lab and give them some extra practice time. He’d had to talk several young pilots in training into and then out of a tailspin. As he had, he’d known exactly what the kids were feeling—the initial helplessness, followed by the flash of panic. And through it all the excitement of the challenge. Life and death hung on whether or not your reflexes were quick enough, your control strong enough to bring that plane out of a fatal spin. The thrill of meeting that kind of challenge and the ability to handle it was what made him become a pilot.

He’d managed to get all five of his students safely through their simulated maneuvers, but three hours in the lab hadn’t relieved the restlessness he’d been experiencing lately. His single-engine Cessna was no fighter jet—far from it. But it was still a little honey of a plane.

His grandmother had given it to him a year ago when he’d started teaching at the Air Force Academy. If she hadn’t had health problems, he’d have signed up for a third tour of duty in Afghanistan. She’d argued vehemently against his changing his plans. Her breast cancer was stage one, and a bevy of specialists had assured her that surgery and radiation was the treatment she needed. No chemo. She didn’t even have to cut back on her work schedule. She was going to be fine.

But there’d been an opening that suited him in the Department of Military and Strategic Studies at the Air Force Academy, and he was determined to be close at hand when she was going through treatments. He’d lost his mother when he’d been born and his father when he was seven. Maggie Fortune was the only family he had, and vice versa. That meant that when the chips were down, they were a team. After all she’d stuck with him when he’d gone through that rough patch in his teens. The least he could do was stick with her now.

He glanced at his watch. Another two minutes had gone by and the plane in front of him hadn’t budged. In his mind, he pictured the flight instructor running one last check on the equipment. He bit back a sigh. Patience had never been his strong suit, but he’d had considerably less of it at thirteen. And he’d been so damn bored. All he could think of was that he had to wait five more years—eons—until he could apply to the Air Force Academy. And filling the headmaster’s dresser drawers with frogs had seemed a great way to pass the time. His classmates would have elected him president of the student government organization—if he hadn’t been kicked out of the school.

That was when his grandmother had given up on lecture and logic and sent him to Father Mike Flynn at the St. Francis Center for Boys.

He’d owe her forever for that decision. Not only had his boredom been relieved, but he’d made two lifetime friends, Gabe Wilder and Jonah Stone. Back in those days, the center and Father Mike had the reputation for being able to put troubled teens back on track. He supposed that he and his friends could be considered stellar examples of the program’s success. Gabe, the son of legendary art thief Raphael Wilder, had not turned to a life of crime. Instead, he now headed up a security firm that was gaining a nationwide reputation. And Gabe was getting married soon to an FBI agent who specialized in white-collar crime. Jonah Stone, a savvy street kid, had become an equally savvy and successful entrepreneur. He now owned two nightclubs in San Francisco and a brand new one in Denver. Both his friends would be at his grandmother’s birthday bash tonight.

So would he. If he ever got off the ground. He sent up a little prayer of thanksgiving as the plane ahead of him finally began to taxi. He waited for it to accelerate, watched it lift, then kept it in sight until it faded to a speck of silver in the brilliant blue sky.

After touching a finger to the medal around his neck, Nash let the Cessna rip. When it lifted, he welcomed the challenge of the windy crosscurrents, relished the bumps as he dipped one wing, leveled off, and nosed upward. The trees on the ridge ahead grew more distinct as they rushed towards him, then blurred as he shot the plane up and over them.

He spared a glance at the land dropping away below, and felt the restlessness begin to disappear. He had an hour to soar, to glide, to simply play in the sky.

His earliest memory of flying was sitting on his dad’s lap in the pilot’s seat and holding on to the wheel. During the months before his dad had been deployed to the Gulf War, they’d taken several flights together, and he’d graduated to the copilot’s seat. His dad had promised to teach him to fly when he returned.

Pushing the memories and the regrets aside, Nash banked the plane, headed east, and climbed again. Today wasn’t a day for thinking of anything. It was a day meant for simply flying. When the peaks and valleys below were merely ripples of lighter and darker green, he climbed even higher and took the plane into a first lazy loop.

Laughing, he soared into a second one and a third. Then he decided to execute what his students had been practicing in the lab all day—taking a plane into and out of a spin.

He deliberately made the “mistake” described in all the textbooks, the one he’d coached his students to make in the simulation. He banked the plane to the right, then applied the rudder to suddenly accelerate the rate of the turn. Adrenaline kicked in when he felt the plane stall and saw the nose dip below the horizon. Then the rotation began and the plane went into an uncontrolled spin.

If he hadn’t been strapped in, centrifugal force would have thrown him to the other side of the cockpit and pinned him there. As it was, he could feel the straps cutting into his shoulders and hear them strain. He let himself absorb the thrill of the spin for a few seconds before he applied full right rudder and leveled the plane off. A glance down told him that he’d come out of the tailspin about one thousand feet above the ground.

Plenty of room to spare. He laughed and sent the plane climbing again.

A half hour later, it was with some regret that he headed the Cessna back to the airfield. A couple of spins was all he had time for today. That was the promise he’d made himself when he’d decided to take the plane up. But he was tempted…

No, he was not going to be late for his grandmother’s seventy-fifth birthday party.

Then he grinned again. One more loop wouldn’t break his promise. So with the airfield in sight, he completed one more for the road.



“YOU’RE BORED.”

Nash Fortune didn’t bother to deny the charge as he faced Maggie Fortune, the tiny dynamo of a woman he loved most in the world. They stood on the balcony that opened off of her office. Below them her birthday party was in full swing. While the sun splashed red across the horizon, guests sipped champagne and nibbled at canapés as they clustered in groups around the pool or strolled along a maze of paths. The buzz of conversation and laughter mixed with the muted sounds of a string quartet.

A few moments ago, he and his grandmother had been standing with his friends Jonah and Gabe and Nicola, Gabe’s new fiancée, at the far end of the pool. They’d all been catching up with Father Mike, and without warning, his yawn had just escaped. He’d thought he’d hidden it, but his grandmother’s eagle eye had caught it and she’d announced that she needed to steal him away for a moment.

“Well? Am I right?”

What could he say? She was.

She wagged a finger at him. “What worries me is you yawned just like that the night you set Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock loose in the middle of my dinner party.”

He grinned at her. “You remember my gerbils’ names?”

“Of course. One of my dinner guests fainted, I nearly lost the deal I was negotiating, and my chef quit because no one ate his main course. All because your pets got loose from the Starship Enterprise.” Her eyes, green as the emeralds she wore in her ears, twinkled at him and her lips twitched now just as they had on that long ago evening.

Nash took her hands in his. “Grams, your birthday bash is safe. I promise I haven’t brought any gerbils or other small animals with me.”

“That isn’t the only mischief you used to get into when you weren’t challenged enough. Do you recall when you were in fourth grade and you glued poor Katie Lynn Peabody to her desk? And you put the snake you’d brought in for show and tell in your teacher’s desk?”

“Surely the statute of limitations has run out on those crimes. How about if I apologize for yawning?”

“Why in hell should you apologize?” Maggie frowned at him.

“Because it’s made you worry.” He drew his grandmother into his arms and just held her for a moment. Maggie’s hair was pure white now instead of the raven color it had once been. But it was styled to perfection, and in her red silk pantsuit she looked as if she’d just stepped off the cover of a women’s fashion magazine.

Looks weren’t her only asset. She had one of the sharpest minds he’d ever encountered. For the past two decades, she’d run Fortune Enterprises, a large business empire that ranged from mining and real estate holdings to publishing. And twenty-one years ago, she’d also taken over the job of raising him after his father’s untimely death in the Gulf War.

As he drew back, Nash wondered which she’d claim was the bigger of the two challenges.

“Thanks for the hug,” she said. “They’ve always been your best method of trying to distract me. But not tonight. I didn’t bring you up here just to scold you because you yawned at my birthday party.”

She tapped a finger on his chest. “The problem is you’re bored, period. I can see the signs. You’re not sleeping well.”

That was true although he’d never figured out how his grandmother could always tell.

“More lines around your eyes,” she said with her usual knack for reading his mind. “And twice so far this evening, I’ve seen you gaze off into space. Admit it. I was right. You’re regretting your decision to request a teaching assignment at the Air Force Academy.”

“Not true,” he said.

She held a hand up. “Let me finish. After all, I was responsible for your decision.”

“Partly responsible. Have you ever thought that I might have needed to come home? That maybe I was a bit restless and bored before I learned about your surgery?”

She stared at him for a moment.

Nash fully sympathized with her surprise. It was the first time he’d admitted to himself that his current feeling of…restlessness may have predated his teaching assignment. He might have been courting boredom even in Afghanistan.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got the same problem your father had when he was about your age. Our country’s wars are winding down. And you’re getting older. You’re starting to see that you can’t fly those fighter planes forever. I imagine facing the young men and women who’ll replace you in the classroom each day drives the point home even more sharply. So I’ll tell you what I told your father. You can’t stop time. You have to accept it and go with the flow.”

He raised his brows.

Her lips twitched again. “I know. It’s my milestone birthday we’re celebrating, but your thirtieth wasn’t that long ago. And you can’t be a fly-boy forever. Your father was getting a bit bored with the life of a pilot in peace time before the Gulf War erupted.”

Nash captured one of her hands in his again. As usual, she was spot-on about some of what he was feeling.

“You could always think of making a career change.”

He met her eyes without disguising the surprise in his. From the time he’d been a child, she’d supported his dream of one day following in his father’s footsteps and becoming a pilot in the Air Force. She’d never once put any kind of pressure on him to consider taking over one of the many companies she ran—in spite of the fact that when she’d lost his father, she’d lost the son she’d expected to one day fill her shoes.

He narrowed his eyes as a sudden thought occurred to him. “Something has changed. You’ve received some bad news from your doctors.”

“No, nothing like that. I’m fine. I’d tell you in a heartbeat if I wasn’t.” Maggie raised the hand holding hers and patted it. “I’m just planting a seed about the future. It’s my birthday. I have a right to plant seeds.”

Nash laughed. “You have the right to plant seeds whenever you want.” And they had a tendency to take root and grow. Johnny Appleseed had nothing on his grandmother in that department. But he was beginning to wonder just what seed she’d intended to plant when she’d brought him up here to the balcony.

Maggie continued to meet his gaze. “I also have a right to worry. And perhaps feel a bit guilty.”

“Guilty? About what?”

“Your intolerance of boredom is probably embedded in a gene you’ve inherited directly from me. None of the Nashes were long on patience. And your impatience as a baby is how you came to be called by your middle name. When what you’ve inherited from my side of the family is mixed in with what you’ve inherited from the black sheep on the Fortune side of the family. Well?” She threw up her hands. “It’s worrisome.”

“You’re not planning on giving me the Jeremiah Fortune lecture again?”

Her eyes widened. “You remember him, then?”

His eyes narrowed. “If you can call up the names of my pet gerbils, I can certainly remember Jeremiah’s. You were always lecturing me that if I didn’t mend my ways, I’d grow up to be just like him instead of my father. I also remember that when I sassed you by asking just how badly a Fortune heir could turn out, you filled me in on my ancestor’s untimely and grim demise.”

Maggie remembered every detail of what she’d told him. The story was a good one, and she’d used it ruthlessly. Jeremiah had been the younger brother of Nash’s great-great-great-grandfather, the first Thaddeus. Though the details were sketchy, the story had the drama of a soap opera. After the two Fortune brothers had settled in Colorado and discovered a rich vein of gold, they’d argued over a woman. Tradition held that Thaddeus had won the woman and Jeremiah had run off to prospect for more gold on his own. Two years later he’d been hanged as a horse thief.

“Time to come clean, Grams,” Nash said. “You didn’t call me up here to remind me that I might have a few genes from a black sheep in my DNA. What’s the real reason?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie saw the real reason making her way across the terrace below them. Bianca Quinn had arrived right on schedule. Even now, Father Mike was raising his hand in greeting. Thank heavens Nash wasn’t looking out at the party anymore. Because she hadn’t finished yet. “I want a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I’ve hired a writer and commissioned her to write a book on the history of the Fortune family. There’ll be an emphasis on the early years, but she’s going to chronicle the entire saga right up to the present.”

She noted surprise flicker in his eyes, then curiosity.

“Aren’t you nervous about dragging all of the skeletons out of the closet?”

Maggie laughed. “I think it should prove highly amusing. Scandals sell.”

“I’m assuming you checked out this writer’s credentials.”

“Not to worry. I had your friend Gabe run a thorough background check. And she’s good. Her first book made the Times extended book list.”

“It sounds like you’re right on top of everything, as usual. How can I help?”

She beamed a smile at him. “I want you to cooperate fully with her. She’ll want to interview you as the current Fortune heir and one of Denver’s most eligible bachelors. And she’s been away from Denver for a while. I just want you to make her feel as comfortable as possible while she’s settling in to work on the project. Be nice to her.”

Maggie was careful to keep her expression bland, but she hadn’t raised a fool. Nash knew that she was up to something. She also figured that by now Bianca had joined Father Mike and Nash’s friends at the far end of the pool. So it was nearly time.

“You’re worrying me, Grams. Just how ugly is she? And even if she were, why would you think I wouldn’t be nice to her?”

“Because the woman I’ve hired to write the Fortune family saga is Bianca Quinn. She’s just arrived and she’s joined your friends.”

Nash whipped his gaze back to the group he and his grandmother had left earlier at the far end of the pool. His eyes fastened on her immediately. A tall blonde, slim as a wand in a white sundress. Though her back was to him, recognition instantly flooded his system. So did the memories. Feelings he’d buried long ago shot to the surface. A mix of love, desire, anger and hurt froze him to the spot.

Unable to move, he absorbed the long slender legs, the narrow waist, the honey-colored hair that fell to her shoulders. He’d known every inch of her and he hadn’t forgotten a single detail. She matched perfectly with the image that he hadn’t been aware he still carried in his mind.

What the hell was it doing there?

Then, as if she were aware of his gaze on her, she turned and glanced up at the balcony. Like a two-fisted punch to the gut, he felt desire, hot and raw. Not a memory, this time. The real thing.

Then he couldn’t think at all. It was as if no time at all had passed. The impulse to go to her was so strong. He wasn’t aware until he felt the warmth of Maggie’s hands on one of his that he’d gripped the balcony railing.

Glancing down, he noted the whiteness of his knuckles. What had been his plan? To just leap onto the terrace and run to her?

No way. Time had passed. He wasn’t a nineteen-year-old anymore. Nash drew in a deep breath and let it out. No other woman had ever affected him the way Bianca Quinn had. Evidently, she still could.

He drew in another breath. He was older now. And he knew a lot more about women than he had at nineteen.

So he’d handle her. For his grandmother’s sake. But it wasn’t his promise to his grandmother that kept his eyes lingering on Bianca. Without thinking he touched a finger to his chest just where the medal lay beneath his uniform. He’d find a way to handle her.

Turning to Maggie, he smiled. “I’ll be happy to give her an interview. Why don’t we join the party?”




2


Five minutes earlier…

WITH NERVELESS FINGERS, Bianca Quinn handed the keys of her car over to the valet.

“Welcome to Fortune Mansion, Miss Quinn.”

At her surprised look, he smiled. “Ms. Fortune said you’d be arriving right about now. She asked us to keep an eye out for you. Just follow the lighted path around the side of the house. The party’s in the garden and you’re in plenty of time for the birthday cake. Enjoy.”

Enjoy. Maybe she could once she got through this first meeting with Nash Fortune. The path was only a few feet to her right, and she could hear the sound of laughter and the faint strains of Vivaldi. But for a moment she simply couldn’t make herself move.

She’d read about déjà vu, but she’d never before realized the physical impact it might have. For just an instant she felt transported back in time to that fateful day eleven years ago when she’d stood on this very spot. She’d sensed then that her life was about to change.

It had.

And she felt the same way now.

As ridiculous as it was, she couldn’t immediately shake off the feeling, nor could she seem to drag her gaze away from the Fortune Mansion’s stone and glass facade.

But she would no longer allow it to intimidate her. The new bargain she’d struck with Maggie Fortune was entirely different from the one she’d made eleven years ago when she’d promised to disappear from Nash Fortune’s life. The new one was strictly business. She was going to research and write a history of the Fortune family in Colorado.

A family saga wasn’t the type of book she usually wrote. And as lucrative as Maggie’s offer was, she would have turned it down if it hadn’t been for two things. First, she was intrigued by the story, sketchy as it was, of the two Fortune brothers who’d discovered gold in the 1860s and started a dynasty. She had a gut feeling that if she just dug a little deeper, she would find something, and her hunches were seldom wrong.

Her second reason for accepting Maggie’s deal was one that the woman had pointed out to her—she could kill two birds with one stone. She had to come to the Denver area anyway to begin seriously researching her latest true crime book—the real story behind the disappearance of Cadet Brian Silko from the Air Force Academy more than a decade ago. Just as she had with her first book, she would visit the scene of the crime, so to speak—in this case, the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs.

Not that she was sure a crime had been committed. But she had a strong hunch that there had been some kind of cover-up. And it might still be going on. When she’d called the superintendent of the Air Force Academy to ask for an interview concerning Brian’s disappearance, he’d refused to even speak with her on the phone. In her experience, when someone didn’t want to talk, it was because they had something to hide.

And the person who’d sent her the three anonymous notes agreed.

She hadn’t thought of Brian Silko in years. Not until two months ago when she’d been doing a book-signing in a Barnes & Noble in Chicago. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d seen a tall young woman with dark hair slip a note under a pile of her books. The message had been concise: “For your next book, why don’t you find out the true story behind Cadet Brian Silko’s disappearance from the Air Force Academy eleven years ago?”

Of course, she’d recognized the name right away. Brian had been a year ahead of her in junior high and she’d interviewed him for an article in the school newspaper. It was right before his family had moved to Phoenix. Her story had focused on Brian’s love of flying and his dream of one day attending the Air Force Academy.

Brian Silko had achieved his dream. He’d been in Nash’s class their freshman year at the academy. They’d both played for the Falcons, the academy’s football team. Then in the spring, Brian had stolen a small plane from the airfield and completely vanished.

It had been all over the news. She and Nash had talked about it, of course, but they’d been too involved with each other to pay much notice. No one had discovered why Brian had done what he’d done. And no one had ever found him or the wreckage of the plane.

The second anonymous note, postmarked from Denver, had been sent to her editor a few days later. He’d urged her to at least do some preliminary research. But she’d already started on that. Brian’s mother had died a year ago, and she’d hadn’t been able to locate his sister yet. What she’d found in the press coverage hadn’t been anything more than she’d known at the time. No one seemed to know why Brian had suddenly stolen that plane or where he might have gone. And within a month, the press had forgotten about him.

So had she for over a decade.

Bianca had been well and truly hooked when the third note arrived bearing the postmark of the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs—it stated that Brian was alive. If that was true, why hadn’t he been found or come forward? And what had made him give up his dream of graduating from the Air Force Academy? There was a story here all right, and she was going to start by locating the people who’d known Brian the year he’d disappeared. One of those people was Nash Fortune.

And you’re afraid to see him again.

Bianca drew in a deep breath and let it out. She was being ridiculous. She had nothing to fear from Nash Fortune because she was no longer that naive seventeen-year-old girl who could be completely swept away by what she felt for a man. Nor was she that young girl with a dream of one day becoming a published writer.

She was a writer. “A top-rate investigative journalist,” one of her reviews had read. Her first book, Cover Up, had made the Times extended list and her publisher had already accepted the proposal for her second book on Brian Silko.

Straightening her shoulders, she shifted her gaze to the path leading to the garden. All she had to do was focus on her work. Nash’s current teaching assignment at the Air Force Academy could prove to be very helpful. At the very least, he could share his insights into the kind of person Brian had been. And like his grandmother, Nash could open doors for her by putting her in contact with others at the academy who might know something. What had happened between them had ended long ago. Water under the bridge. He’d certainly forgiven her by now for running away.

Perhaps he’d even forgotten her. They’d been young and foolish and totally unsuited for one another. Her Aunt Molly, the woman who’d raised her from the time she’d been orphaned at the age of three, had been a cleaning woman at the St. Francis Center for Boys. Nash Fortune had been the grandson of one of the richest women in the United States.

But you haven’t forgotten him, nagged that little voice again.

Maybe not. Nash had been her first love. A woman always remembered her first. There was the guilt factor, too. She’d been the one to call things off. She was the one who’d run away.

That was why she was making the whole thing into a mountain—and Nash would be viewing it as a molehill. Surely, now that they were both adults who were living their dreams, he would see that she’d made the right decision.

Still, she’d taken money for what she’d done. She might not have signed the papers and taken Maggie’s check if Father Mike Flynn hadn’t been there standing at the older woman’s side. And they’d made it so easy for her. All she had to do was leave a note for Nash near the statue of St. Francis in the little prayer garden at the center.

And it wasn’t just money Maggie had offered her. It had been an acceptance letter from a college in the Boston area where she could major in writing. There’d also been a job for her Aunt Molly in one of Maggie’s companies that had a branch office in Cambridge. Maggie Fortune was as skillful as the serpent in Eden when it came to offering the right bait.

Bianca fisted her hands at her sides. Bribe or not, she’d been right to do what she’d done. She’d gone off to college and Nash had been able to continue at the Air Force Academy without the burden of a teenage wife in Denver.

No matter that it had hurt so much at the time. Nor that there was a little place in her heart that still ached.

The important thing was that they’d both achieved their dreams and might not have if she hadn’t made that bargain eleven years ago.

So what are you so afraid of?

Good question.

She pressed a hand to her stomach and willed her nerves to settle. She had a plan. She’d arrived in Denver two days ago, settled herself in a hotel, and even visited the Colorado Springs Police Department to look over their files on the Silko disappearance. Tonight’s meeting with Nash was just another step. She’d set up an interview with him and use the time to probe his relationship with Brian as well as his position as the sole heir to the Fortune riches.

A few days from now she was going to laugh about what a non-issue meeting him again had turned out to be.

Stepping away from the willow tree, she strode down the path toward the laughter and the music. The important thing was to find out what had really happened to Cadet Brian Silko and write his story.

The moment she stepped onto the flagstone terrace, Bianca paused to scan the crowd. She had to hand it to Maggie Fortune. The woman knew how to throw a party. At the far end of the pool, she caught a glimpse of the musicians, and she thought they’d switched to Mozart. But it was hard to tell above the laughter and conversation.

White-jacketed waiters carrying trays of fluted glasses cut paths through the clusters of guests. She spotted a senior state senator whose name frequently made the news. She was pretty sure she recognized an aging film star she’d had a crush on when she was thirteen, and there were at least two men who’d retired from hosting network evening news.

“Miss Quinn?”

Bianca turned to a tall, very distinguished-looking man at her side. She guessed him to be in his early seventies. He had gray, thinning hair, and in his perfectly tailored gray suit, he reminded her of the actor Walter Pigeon, who’d appeared in the original Thin Man movies.

“I’m Grady, Ms. Fortune’s house manager. She’s stepped inside for a moment and she asked me to greet you in her place. You’ll find Father Flynn and some other people you might remember over on the other side of the pool.”

“Thank you.” Bianca started to thread her way in the direction that Grady had pointed, but it took her a few moments before she spotted Father Mike. The instant he saw her, he smiled and waved. At once, something inside of her eased.

She’d originally met him through her Aunt Molly. On Saturdays, she’d frequently helped her aunt to clean the St. Francis Center. At the end of her junior year in high school, Father Mike had offered her the job of writing the newsletter for the center. It had been her first official writing job, and she could never thank him enough for the opportunity.

Working on the newsletter had also given her the opportunity to get to know him, and he was the kindest and most truly holy person she’d ever met. He’d even taken the time to fly east to visit her and her aunt during the first few years she’d been in college. And when her aunt had passed on two years ago, he’d flown in to say the funeral mass.

As Bianca began to weave her way toward him, she shifted her gaze to the people he was with. That was all it took to set her nerves dancing again. The pretty young woman was a stranger, but in spite of the passage of time, she recognized the two men immediately. Gabe Wilder and Jonah Stone had been Nash’s best friends at the St. Francis Center.

Gabe wore black. That had been his favorite color in high school, but the shirts hadn’t been silk back then. But Jonah’s clothes also had her taking a second look. He’d been a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of boy, but the suit he was wearing today had been tailored to fit his tall, lanky frame perfectly, and she was pretty sure it boasted a designer label. He definitely wasn’t the rough-edged street kid she remembered.

As she drew closer, Father Mike held out his arms and she walked right into them.

“Welcome back,” he murmured. “You must come and visit me soon so we can catch up.”

“I will,” she promised as he released her. It was at that precise moment she felt the hairs on the back of her neck spring to attention.

Nash.

She could feel the heat of his gaze on her skin, and the moment she turned her head, she saw him. He stood next to his grandmother on a balcony overlooking the terrace and pool. Her heart started to pound, her breath caught in her throat. He was tall and blond and just as handsome as the image she’d had in her mind all these years.

The fact that he was wearing his uniform did nothing at all to lessen the intensity of his effect on her senses. But it wasn’t until she met his eyes that she felt the full impact. Everything inside of her heated as her mind emptied and simply filled with him. Pleasure shot through her, along with the beginnings of that same primitive and urgent desire she’d felt for him all those years ago.

With it came the impulse to forget every thing else and just go to him. She was not naturally impulsive, but he’d always had that effect on her, making her want to toss the world away and go into freefall just to be with him. He still had the power to make her feel that way. Baffled, she fought hard to keep her feet firmly planted where they were. But she might have lost the battle if he hadn’t chosen that moment to turn to his grandmother.

Even then, it took all of her concentration to turn her own head and focus as Father Mike said, “You must remember Gabe and Jonah.”

“Yes.” The word was barely audible and Bianca reminded herself to smile.

“Welcome back to Denver,” Gabe said.

Jonah merely nodded.

In spite of the friendliness of Gabe’s words, cool wariness was what she saw in the eyes of both men. Of course, both of them had been close to Nash when she’d run out on him. Clearly, they hadn’t forgotten. But when Father Mike introduced her to Gabe’s fiancée, Nicola Guthrie, the young woman’s handshake was warm, her smile genuine. “Are you the Bianca Quinn who wrote Cover Up?”

“I am.”

“What a delight to meet you. Gabe mentioned he knew you when I starting raving about your book.”

“Nicola’s a true fan of your investigative technique,” Gabe said.

“I was going to write you a letter,” Nicola said. “I told my father that we ought to recruit you to work for the FBI.”

“I’m a researcher and a writer, not a crime fighter,” Bianca said.

“We could still benefit from your skills.” Nicola turned to Jonah. “You have to read Cover Up. It all takes place in this little town in upstate New York, not far from Cornell University. The last place you’d expect there would be a home invasion and grisly murders. And the police solved it in record time—or they thought they had. One suspect was shot to death by the police, the other tried, convicted and sentenced to jail. The real killer would have gotten away if Bianca hadn’t decided to write about it.”

Nicola turned back to Bianca. “How did you come to choose that particular story?”

“Someone brought it to my attention when I attended a conference in the area, and I got a feeling, a hunch, that there was a story there.”

“I knew you’d make a good agent. Following hunches is essential in good investigative work.”

Jonah turned to Bianca. “What brings you back to Denver?”

It didn’t surprise Bianca one bit that Jonah was the one to ask that question. He’d let her know eleven years ago that he hadn’t approved of her relationship with Nash. The rough kid from the streets was territorial when it came to his friends, and he never believed in beating around the bush.

“I’m working on two projects.”

“True crime again?” Nicola asked.

“One of them is.” Though her back was turned, she could sense that Nash and his grandmother were approaching. The tingle of awareness moved through every cell in her body. She wasn’t sure how she managed it, but she kept her eyes on Nicola. “But I’m also here at the request of Mrs. Fortune. She’s commissioned me to write the history of the Fortune family.”

“Indeed I have,” Maggie said as she and Nash joined the group. “I’ve just been telling Nash, and I think he’s a bit nervous about pulling all the family skeletons out of the closet.”

Bianca barely had time to turn when Nash took her hands in his and leaned down to touch his lips to her cheek. She felt the imprint of each one of his fingers on hers as if they were a brand. The brush of his mouth on her skin was brief, a simple social contact, but her heart skipped a beat, then raced.

“Bianca, it’s wonderful to see you again,” he said. “You’re even lovelier than I remembered.”

He released her in the time it took her to meet his eyes. All she read in his was the warmth one might expect to see in the eyes of an old and dear friend. Nothing that came close to matching the flash of heat his touch had ignited.

“Good to see you, too,” she managed to say, and wondered that her nose didn’t grow like Pinocchio’s for telling the lie. There was no way that her reaction to seeing Nash Fortune again was good. Even after he’d released her hands, she’d wanted badly to throw her arms around him.

She wasn’t the girl she’d been at seventeen—so willing and eager to toss caution to the winds. She was no longer Juliet to his Romeo. What was wrong with her? She was an adult, for heaven’s sake.

But for a few minutes the conversation around her was just a buzz of noise, and she simply couldn’t pick up the thread.

It’s the Nash Effect, the little voice said.

She couldn’t argue with that assessment. She was so aware of him standing near her. It was as if her entire body remembered him. And recalled his touch. When he laughed at something Gabe said, the sound rippled along her nerve endings.

It wasn’t until he stepped closer to Gabe and Jonah that she felt her brain cells click on. She had a story to research, she reminded herself again.

Two stories. In a few more seconds, she’d even remember what they were. Bubbles of panic erupted and cleared her brain. Now, if she could just stop looking at him.

“Are you all right, dear?”

Father Mike. Gratefully, she turned to face him. “I will be.”

“Yes.” He took her hand in his and patted it. “You will be.”

How often had he said those words to her before? The first time had been when she’d worked on the first newsletter for the St. Francis Center. She’d been so nervous about seeing something she’d written in print for the first time. Father Mike had taken her into the small prayer garden tucked in between the center and a basketball court. A statue of St. Francis sat on a dais in the small space, and he’d told her that saying a prayer to the statue would help.

It had. But so had Father Mike’s calm belief in her, then and over the years. She would be all right this time, too.

When she turned back to the others, she could finally follow what they were saying. And she could look at other people besides Nash. The men were discussing an upcoming basketball tournament at the Boys and Girls Club and settling on a poker night since Jonah was in town. Their easy camaraderie matched perfectly with her memories of the three of them.

“I know that you’re busy,” Nicola said to her. “But I’d love to get together with you for lunch?”

Bianca smiled at her. “I’d love that.”

“I’ll call you,” Nicola said before she turned to respond to something Gabe had said.

When a passing waiter offered a flute of champagne, she took one. On the bright side, she’d discovered the answer to one question. Nash was definitely not going to be a non-issue for her. Because he stood in profile, his attention focused on what Gabe was saying, she was able to study him objectively for the first time. His face was leaner, the laugh lines more pronounced. His body was still tall and lanky, but it looked harder. His hands had certainly seemed harder, too, in the moment they’d clasped hers.

They’ll feel different on your skin when he makes love to you.

Bianca took a sip of her champagne. She was just not going to allow herself to go there. Second thing on the bright side—what she was feeling was one-sided. He hadn’t glanced at her since he’d moved away. The fact that he seemed to be treating her as an old friend was a good thing. She’d find a way to handle her feelings. She was older now. And she could still use his help with both her projects. When she interviewed him as the current heir to the Fortune dynasty, she’d also ask him about Brian. They’d been classmates. At the very least, he could provide deeper insights into the kind of person Brian had been. At best, he could save her a lot of time by putting her in touch with others who’d known Brian personally that year. She just had to keep her focus.

“Having second thoughts?”

Bianca turned to see Maggie stood next to her. She met the older woman’s eyes. “No.”

“Good.” Maggie took her free hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “How did your visit to the Colorado Springs Police Department go?”

Bianca smiled at her. “Very smoothly, thanks to you. Mayor DeBlois sends you his best. The sergeant there had the files on Brian Silko’s disappearance all ready for me to read. Unfortunately, I didn’t discover anything new. The detective who did the investigation has retired. No one seemed to know his current address. My next move will be to locate him. But first, I intend to get started on the book you’re paying me for.”

“Good. But I knew when I convinced you to take on the scandalous Fortunes that you were also here to research your next book. You’re free to juggle your work load any way you see fit. I’ll be out of town for a few days, but I’ve arranged with Grady, my house manager, for you to have access to the library and the family archives whenever you wish. He has instructions to let you in and out—at any hour.”

“I’ll start tomorrow.”

“Good.”

“Maggie, sorry I’m late. Happy birthday.”

“James.” Maggie turned to hug the man who wore a dress uniform that matched Nash’s.

“General.” Nash nodded at the man.

Maggie introduced General James Winslow to the group. When it was her turn, Bianca grasped the hand the general extended. She was a little surprised when the current superintendent of the Air Force Academy showed no sign of recognition. It had been less than a month since he’d refused to meet with her or even speak to her on the phone. After that, she’d received the same refusal from everyone else she’d phoned. No one wanted to talk about Cadet Brian Silko.

There was a story to uncover, all right.

When the string quartet segued from Brahms to a lively rendition of “Happy Birthday,” Maggie laughed. “I think that’s a hint that I should cut my birthday cake.”

As the group was dispersing in the direction of the cake, Bianca drew in a deep breath. She had a plan to complete before Nash drifted away. Taking a step toward him, she said, “I’d like to set up an appointment for an interview.”

When he met her eyes, she could read nothing in them. “Grams told me as much. Are you free tomorrow morning around eleven?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be in my office at the academy. Do you have transportation?”

She nodded. “A rental car.”

“Then I’ll have someone meet you at the main gate and show you the way.”

“See you then.” As Bianca watched him move ahead to fall into step with his grandmother and General Winslow, she thought she’d handled that well.

He could still arouse feelings in her, but she would deal with them. She would just have to keep their relationship on a professional level.

As everyone burst into “Happy Birthday,” she settled her gaze on Nash again. And her heart bounced hard and high. She might just as well have been seventeen again.

Keeping things professional will be a good trick if you can pull it off.

Bianca had no comeback for that.




3


NASH MADE ONE LAST crease in the paper airplane he’d been crafting for the past fifteen minutes. Creating them had been a habit he’d picked up from his dad. They used to sit side by side for hours at the kitchen table in his grandmother’s house completing entire combat squadrons and then waging war. As a result of years of practice, Nash had learned to make an aeronautically superior paper plane. Usually the process helped to clear his mind and even solve problems.

And he definitely had a problem.

Hefting his latest masterpiece between his finger and thumb, he launched it with one practiced flick of his wrist. It soared upward for two seconds before it nose dived onto the floor nearly a foot short of its intended target—his wastebasket.

Glancing over the top of his desk, Nash noted that it was the fifth plane that had crashed before reaching its destination. In the past hour, only one of his masterpieces had survived the trip.

And the failed missions littering his office floor were all due to Bianca Quinn.

Rising, he shoved his hands into his pockets and paced through the debris to the window of his office. In the distance, mountain peaks jutted into a cloudless blue sky. After eleven years, she was back in his life, and he wasn’t at all sure how it would play out. He wasn’t sure how he wanted it to play out.

He felt the same way about her now as he had when he’d first seen her eleven years ago. He’d gotten a glimmer of that feeling when he’d first seen her from his grandmother’s balcony, but taking her hands and kissing her cheek had confirmed it.

Nash found the strength to smile. He’d wanted to throw her over his shoulder and simply leave the party. And it might have been worth it to see the expression on his grandmother’s face.

Because Maggie Fortune was pulling strings in this situation. He had no doubt of that. But his more compelling problem was Bianca. What he’d learned last night was that he wanted her, intensely, urgently, to the exclusion of everything else. Just as he had the first time.

How could that possibly be? Time had intervened. He was older now. So was she. But all he’d had to do was see her, meet her gaze, and she’d sent him into the same tailspin she had the first time.

What had happened between them in their teens, as intense as it had been, should have been over. More than a decade had passed. And it was the “to the exclusion of everything else” part that was the most worrisome. At nineteen, he could understand it.

Now… With a frown, he paced back to his desk and sat down. There was a lot in both their lives that couldn’t be excluded. And there was so much they didn’t know about each other.

He hadn’t even been aware that she’d written a book. He glanced at his computer screen and reread the review he’d pulled up. “Gripping…a first-rate page-turner.”

Unable to resist, he’d downloaded a free chapter, and the voice, the energy in the writing had immediately captivated him. He could hear her, feel her in the words. And the story was a fascinating one.

On the surface, the slaughter of an ordinary middle-class family in a presumably safe neighborhood in Dryden, New York, had all the markings of a random home invasion. The suspects, a woman and her son, had been tracked down when they’d run up charges on credit cards that had been stolen from the victims. The son had been killed by the police, and though the woman had never confessed, she’d been convicted by the fingerprint evidence at the scene of the multiple murders.

Fingerprint evidence that Bianca Quinn had later discovered had been planted by an overzealous member of the state police. Thanks to her diligent investigation of the cold case file and her extensive interviews, another suspect had surfaced and had been arrested.

It didn’t surprise Nash at all that Bianca was coming into her own as a published author. Writing had always been her first love, and it had motivated her decision to cancel their elopement plans and leave Denver.

Though it had hurt like hell at the time, Nash knew what it was to pursue a dream. He’d been equally focused on his future career in the Air Force. At nineteen, he’d been convinced that they could each achieve their goals while they were together. In the end he’d had to accept that Bianca’s love of writing had prevailed over her love of him. She’d made that quite clear in the “Dear John” note she’d left him at the base of the statue of St. Francis.

Anger, bafflement, hurt. He’d experienced all of them the night he’d read her note. His first impulse had been to go after her and convince her that she was wrong. And if that hadn’t worked, he would have simply dragged her back. That had been his battle strategy until Father Mike had walked into the prayer garden. The priest had talked to him in that calm, logical way of his and persuaded him to see everything from Bianca’s point of view.

Father Mike had been honest with him about his grandmother’s involvement, and about the opportunities she’d opened up for Bianca—a college education, a chance to major in writing at a prestigious Ivy League school—opportunities that Nash couldn’t offer at that point in his life. In the end, Father Mike had gotten a promise from him to let some time go by before he did anything rash. Then holding his hand, the priest had encouraged him to say a prayer to the statue. If his memory served him correctly, he’d prayed what was in his heart, that Bianca would change her mind and come back to him. But she hadn’t.

End of story. He’d had a heart-to-heart with his grandmother, but she’d used the same argument as Father Mike had. If he truly loved Bianca, he’d give her this chance. So he hadn’t gone after her. The pain he’d felt all those years ago had eventually faded. The wounds had healed.

Then he’d seen her at his grandmother’s birthday party and felt as if he’d been struck by a thunderbolt, one that had opened up everything he’d believed he’d buried long ago.

He glanced at his watch. In fifteen minutes she was going to walk through the door of his office for an interview. And he wanted her as much as he’d wanted her before, and more than he’d ever wanted any other woman.

And that was enough to give any sane man pause. He was no stranger to going with impulse. He enjoyed taking risks. That part of his nature was what made him a good pilot. But on a mission, he always weighed the consequences of various strategies before hand.

Eleven years ago, he hadn’t done that with Bianca. He’d been too blindsided by her. He’d rushed into a relationship with her with very little thought of the future—his, hers or theirs. And when they’d gotten around to a plan, it hadn’t worked out.

He threaded his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. Hell, he knew a lot about battle strategies. First you had to have a goal. And he thought he had that. What he was feeling for her was not going to go away. He wanted to taste her again. He wanted her again.

He picked up a piece of paper and began folding it. There was no denying the fact that she was special to him. And it wasn’t just impulse or raging hormones driving him now. He was curious about the woman she’d become. Having read some of her work, he was even more intrigued.

What he needed was an effective strategy for reaching his goal. One that considered her as well as himself. The problem was, he wasn’t quite sure what that strategy was. He’d have to figure it out. He lifted the paper plane and flicked his wrist a few times. He’d weigh the data as it came in and adjust. With a grin, he aimed the airplane at his wastebasket and let it rip. Then he watched it ricochet off the edge and nose dive to the floor.

“I remember when your father used to make paper planes. I swear he’d make twenty or thirty of them before he flew each mission.”

Startled, Nash rose to greet General Winslow. “Come in, sir.”

“I can also remember the days when you called me Uncle Jimmy.”

“A long time ago.” Winslow was medium height with the compact build of a boxer. He’d roomed with Nash’s father when they’d gone through the Air Force Academy together, and they’d served together in the Gulf War. In the first year or two after his father had died, the general had visited his grandmother frequently. But until Nash had come back to the Air Force Academy to teach, he hadn’t seen Winslow in years. And it was the first time since he’d returned that the general had paid him a visit in his office.

“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” Nash asked.

Winslow studied him for a moment before he spoke. “I overheard you inviting Bianca Quinn here to your office this morning. How much do you know about her?”

The question surprised Nash, but he managed not to let it show. “She’s a writer and she wants to interview me because my grandmother has hired her to write a book about the Fortune family.”

The general nodded. “I’m sure that Maggie has checked her out and knows that she’s a journalist with a flair for digging up secrets.”

Nash smiled. “I think she’s looking forward to having some of the Fortune family’s secrets made public.”

Winslow smiled in response, but his eyes remained serious. For a moment, the silence stretched between them.

“Is there a problem?” Nash finally asked. There had to be something that had prompted the general’s visit. Was he worried about the book his grandmother had hired Bianca to write? Nash couldn’t imagine James Winslow playing a role in any of the dirty laundry that might be aired. He’d had a stellar career in the Air Force, and his association with Nash’s family stemmed from a close friendship with his father that had ended more than twenty years ago.

“I’m not sure. I didn’t want to say anything to your grandmother last night in the middle of her party. But I recognized Quinn’s name the instant I was introduced to her. Are you sure writing a biography of your family is all this Quinn woman has come here to do?”

“As far as I know. What do you know that I don’t?”

Winslow sighed. “A month ago, she called my office several times and she also bothered other members of the faculty. She wanted to set up interviews for a book she’s writing on the disappearance of Cadet Brian Silko. I had my administrative assistant turn her down and request that she stop calling.”

“Why?”

The general’s brows rose. “As superintendent, I have to look out for the best interests of the school. You must remember the Silko case and what a sensation it made in the press. You knew Brian Silko.”

“Not well. We were on the football team together freshman year. He was a kicker, a good one.”

“And you were an excellent quarterback. I caught one or two of your games when I visited family in the area. I was here in the spring when Silko went missing. I witnessed the press coverage.”

After rising, the general walked to the window and gazed out. “At 7:00 a.m. on February 2, Cadet Brian Silko stole the commandant’s privately owned Cessna from its hangar here on our flight field and disappeared with it. Never to be found. He left no note, no explanation. He’d talked to no one about his plans. There was no evidence that he’d been taken against his will. No ransom note had ever been delivered. He simply vanished. The Air Force and the Colorado Springs police conducted separate investigations, and they reached the same conclusion. He stole a plane and disappeared of his own free will.”

“And when he never surfaced, everyone assumed that he crashed the plane in some remote area,” Nash said. It had all happened during the spring semester when he and Bianca had fallen desperately in love. Of course, they’d read about the case and talked about it some, but they’d been so involved with each other.

“Exactly.” The general turned back to face him.

But neither the plane nor Cadet Silko had ever been found. Gradually, the story had faded from everyone’s memory. Nash hadn’t thought of it in years.

“And you’ve paid me this visit because you suspect that Bianca Quinn’s reason for coming to Denver might be to research Silko’s disappearance as well as my ancestors’ colorful pasts.”

“Exactly,” the general said again. “And the official position of the Air Force Academy is that the case is closed. We have no comment. If she presses you, I’d like your word to restate that position very clearly to Ms. Quinn.”

“You have it,” Nash said without hesitation. And when the general rose, he stood up and remained standing until the general left.

He’d have no trouble giving Bianca the official position of the Air Force Academy. But he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to comply with the subtext of the general’s wishes now that his curiosity had been well and truly stirred up. First of all, the general had used the phrase “digging up secrets” when he’d first talked about Bianca’s job. Were there some secrets surrounding the disappearance of Cadet Silko?

And what were Bianca’s secrets? What exactly was it that had piqued her interest in Silko’s disappearance after all these years? And why had she really come back to Denver?

Sitting back down at his desk, he glanced at his watch. Bianca wasn’t due for another five minutes or so. But he was certain of one thing. If Bianca wanted his help, he was going to give it to her. What better chance to get to know her better and collect data? And if that meant he was playing with fire? So much the better. He grinned. This time when he shot the plane, it accomplished its mission.

He wasn’t so sure where his plan would take him, or how often he’d have to modify his strategy, but as a pilot he’d learned long ago, the challenge was often more than half of the fun.



“CAPTAIN FORTUNE’S OFFICE is on the first floor,” the young cadet said. “Right inside the entrance, take the corridor to your left and follow it around to Room 115.”

“Thanks.” Bianca smiled and waved at the young man as he drove off in his jeep. He’d met her at the front gates, provided her with a map of the entire campus, and explained that since they were in summer sessions, the campus wouldn’t be as crowded as usual. Then she’d followed him to a parking lot at the side of Nash’s building. On their way they’d driven past a parade field and the chapel with its spires reaching into an almost cloudless blue sky. Here and there, she’d spotted tour groups that appeared to be prospective students and their parents touring the campus.

Nash’s building was a two-story structure with tinted glass windows that bounced back the sun’s rays. She’d just locked her car when she saw General James Winslow exit the building through the double glass doors. He walked straight to a jeep that was waiting for him, and drove off.

She felt the same ripple of wariness she’d felt the night before when he’d shaken her hand at Maggie Fortune’s birthday. A quick glance at the map her escort had given her indicated that this building did not house the superintendent’s offices.

Still, he could have a perfectly good reason for visiting here this morning—something that had nothing to do with Nash or with her pending visit. But as she walked through the doors and turned down the corridor, she was confident that she’d made the right decision about at least one thing during the night. She was going to be honest with Nash about her interest in the disappearance of Brian Silko. And she was going to tell him everything about why she’d run away eleven years ago.

She owed him the truth about taking money from his grandmother even if it jeopardized getting his help with her stories.

Other than that, she hadn’t decided how she was going to handle the fact that she was still intensely attracted to him. Thinking about him and what she’d felt when he’d touched her again had interfered with her sleep. And there was a part of her—a part that she couldn’t seem to control—that was looking forward to seeing him again.

It had been years since she’d made wardrobe selections with a man in mind—eleven years, in fact. But she’d changed her clothes three times and her hairstyle twice. All because of Nash.

She wasn’t a teenager in love and in lust for the first time. She was a grown woman with a goal. She was here to find out what caused Brian Silko to steal that plane and give up everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. And if he was alive, she was going to find him and let him tell his own story.

There was a good chance Nash could help her achieve her goal. That’s all that she should be thinking about. She spotted his office the moment she took the first right turn in the corridor. Though she couldn’t see him, she caught the flight of the paper airplane as it sailed through the open doorway and cruised to a rough landing a few feet away.

As she stooped over to pick it up, silly memories came flooding back. He’d taught her how to make them, but his had always sailed farther, and she’d never learned how to make them do a loop before they crashed. Sometimes he’d written her notes on his.

When she reached the fallen paper, she scooped it up and unfolded it. “Welcome back to Denver.”

Her pulse pounded, her breath quickened even as something around her heart tightened. He was being kind. How was he going to feel about her when she told him the truth? About everything.

She glanced up to see that he was standing in the open doorway of his office, smiling at her with that same reckless gleam in his eyes that had caught her attention the first time she’d ever seen him.

He strode toward her, took her hand and pulled her down the corridor. “We’re going for a ride.”




4


“I THOUGHT WE WERE MEETING in your office.” Bianca tucked the paper airplane into her bag as Nash hurried her along to the parking lot.

“Change of plan. Here, put this on.”

She stared dubiously first at the sleek, black motorcycle and then at the helmet he held out to her. “We could take my car.”

“Much less fun.”

She met his eyes, saw the laughter and the challenge, and something inside of her melted. “I came here to interview you. I can hardly do it on a—what is this—a Harley?”

“Good eye. And I know a perfect spot for an interview—one where we won’t be interrupted.”




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/cara-summers/tailspin/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.