No Quarter Given (SSE 667) (22 page)

"Oh, Miss Coulter?" He saw Dana turn, her eyes narrowed with confusion. "Be at the ready room at 0700 tomorrow morning."

***

Dana was afraid to look at Griff's assessment of her flying skills as he handed the paper to her after the morning flight. Her suit was damp, and she'd sweated heavily, expecting him to catch her off guard and start screaming at her again. It hadn't happened. In the cockpit he was all business, his voice low and, at times, even supportive. When she needed correction, he gave it to her. When she didn't, silence reigned on the headset in her helmet.

"A 2.2? Another one?"

"What's the matter? Don't you like it? If you're going for anything but helo-pilot status, you have to strive to make 2.3s or 2.4s, Miss Coulter."

Griff was deliberately teasing her, wanting to ease some of the tension he saw in every line of her body.

Dana glanced up from the board, catching the smile in his fathomless gray eyes. She had gotten airsick once on this flight, but it hadn't affected her grade. And just as before, the water bottle had been stowed for her use.

"I had my heart set on fighters, Mr. Turcotte. How did you know that?"

"Griff," he corrected, and looked around the mostly-deserted ramp. "When we're alone, I want you to call me Griff. And as to you wanting jet status, I think you've got the ability to go for it."

Wanting to believe that he wasn't setting her up to Board her, Dana signed off the paper, frowning. He wanted to be on friendlier terms with her. Why? "And you'll call me Dana?"

Griff didn't miss the edge of sarcasm in her voice, the wariness. He remembered Ann's words about Dana, how she'd been pursued and tricked by Lombard. "I'll call you anything you want me to call you," he answered softly.

Handing him the board with her grade on it, Dana turned away, confused. "Tigers don't change their stripes, Mr. Turcotte. I'm not going to believe you're changing yours."

Time
, Griff cautioned himself as Dana walked away from him.
Give her plenty of rein and time. She'll come around
.

Dana suddenly halted, glancing at him across her shoulder. "When can we fly again?"

He grinned. "When do you want to?"

"Tomorrow?"

"How about tonight? Your first night flight?"

Dana frowned. "Is this some kind of trick?"

"Meet me at 2100 and find out."

***

The ready room was quiet when Dana arrived at 2050. She had changed flight suits earlier after grabbing dinner at the apartment. At exactly 2100, Griff appeared at the door. Was it the thrill of making a possible breakthrough with Griff that made her heart pound so hard? Or the fact that he looked so stalwart in his flight suit?

"I see you're a lady who likes to live dangerously. You decided to meet me and see if we're taking a night flight." As Griff approached, he saw less wariness in her eloquent eyes.

"I've lived dangerously all my life, Mr. Turcotte. Why should it change now?"

Griff nodded sagely. "No argument out of me. Let's get out there and do it together, shall we?"

Excitement dissolved her distrust. Dana saw the challenge in Griff's eyes and heard it in his voice. He was supporting her! "I'm ready," she whispered with feeling.

The night flight was a completely different experience from day flying. Griff had her switch from visual observation outside the cockpit, to beginning to rely totally on the instruments. He showed her how the horizon gauge would move if they nosed up or down. For the next two hours she lived in the cocoon of the darkness, relying on waving arms, dials and the soft red light illuminating the cockpit so she could see them.

The flight lasted two hours. Dana couldn't suppress her wonderment at the stars that sparkled outside the cockpit. And for once, she didn't get airsick. She noticed, however, that her bottle of water was faithfully stowed in the starboard side next to the seat. Taxiing the trainer back to the ramp after the flight, she couldn't suppress her joy.

"Griff, it was so lovely up there. I can see why you like night flying so much. Did you see the stars? They were so close I felt like I could reach out and pluck them right out of the sky."

Unsnapping the oxygen mask so that it hung to one side of his helmet, Griff smiled at Dana's spontaneous use of his first name. He'd made the flight a positive experience for her. His plan to get Dana's trust was working. Gratitude that she still had the ability to trust any man at all made him feel humbled as never before. "Night flights are fun—except for refueling with a tanker at thirty thousand, or making a carrier landing."

As Dana brought the trainer back to its parking slot, she hesitantly asked, "Griff, you never said how you broke your arm."

"You never asked."

"I want to know."

"I'll tell you on the ground. Let's unstrap and get out of here."

The field was darkened and quiet, except for lights around the control tower and the security gate. Dana felt so much heaviness lift from her shoulders as they slowly walked back to the ready room. She waited patiently for him to tell her about the cast. After they showed their badges to the guard, Griff said, "When I held the manual-release landing lever that day during the emergency landing order I gave you, and you hit it with your boot, it broke my finger."

Dana gasped and halted. "Oh, no!"

Griff grinned and held up his cast. "I had it coming, Miss Coulter."

Stunned, Dana said nothing else and followed him into the ready room. Under the fluorescent lights, Griff looked tired, strain evident around his eyes. She sat down opposite him at one of the many report tables to discuss the flight and wondered what kind of grade he'd give her.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Griff. I knew you were playing a rotten trick on me, and I got mad."

With a laugh, Griff pushed the grade board in her direction. "Don't worry about it. It taught me a lesson I'll never forget."

Dana's gaze flew to the grading box: 2.1. Not bad for a first night flight! Not bad at all, in Dana's opinion. Maggie had gotten a 2.0, and so had Molly. Her lips curved upward as she signed the board and handed it back to him.

"That's what I've been waiting for." Griff sighed and leaned back in the chair.

Stymied, Dana asked, "What?"

"That beautiful smile of yours. What a gift."

The tenor of his voice told her he was being honest. His returning smile was devastating. Suddenly, Dana felt more beautiful than she could ever recall. She avoided Griff's brazen appraisal of her. "You just gave me the greatest gift
I
could ever have," she whispered.

Relaxing, Griff simply enjoyed the time he was able to spend with Dana. "What's that?"

"I know you've got a lot of pressure on you, Griff. Taking extra time to help me log the hours I need to catch up is something... well... special.'' She held his dancing gray gaze. "The gift of treating me fairly after our rotten start over a month ago. I really believe that the new Griff is here to stay."

"None of it was your fault," he told her quietly. "I had too many problems I was refusing to deal with, Miss Coulter. I blamed you for them, and I shouldn't have."

"You can call me Dana..." And then she added shyly, "If you want to."

Griff ached to reach across the table and kiss her. There was such vulnerability in Dana beneath the tough facade she wore to protect herself. With a careless grin, he said, "I'd like that." The need to love her was excruciating. Right now, Dana was unsure of herself as a woman. Her lack of experience was touching.

"Does your arm hurt you very much?"

"No. My pride got hurt a hell of a lot worse than my finger."

With a laugh, Dana stood. "That I can believe!"

Her breathy laughter sang through Griff, and he absorbed it like a starving man. It was late, and both of them had to be at the station early tomorrow.

"So, when's our next flight?"

He liked the new easiness flowing between them. Some invisible hurdle had been spanned. "I've got a break at 1500 tomorrow. The air will be rough, but I think your stomach's ready to handle it."

Dana nodded, placing her garrison cap on her head. She picked up her helmet flight bag. "I'll see you then. Good night, Griff. And thanks."

Griff sat alone in the ready room for a long time after Dana had left. Rocking back in the aluminum chair, he savored the tendrils taking root in his heart. Dana was finally beginning to trust him. She'd started calling him by his first name. Good. Despite his exhaustion, Griff felt happier than he could ever recall. Tomorrow afternoon couldn't come too soon.

***

Dana tried to quell her desire to look at the grade Griff had given her after the afternoon flight. They had flown for three hours. Her logbook was starting to rack up flying hours, and she was beginning to catch up with the rest of her class. The ready room was empty at 1800, everyone having gone home for the day. She sat down at a table and took off her garrison cap. Her flight suit wasn't quite as damp as usual, and Dana was grateful that she hadn't gotten airsick. Dr. Collins had been right: The more regularly she flew, the more her body adjusted to the new and different sensations.

Griff handed her the board, then walked to the coffee dispenser. "You did well," he congratulated her, pouring himself a cup. "Want some?" Dana looked up. "No... thanks. A 2.3?" Sauntering back to the table, he gave her a reckless grin. "Your landings at Pensacola were excellent."

With a grimace, Dana read his individual comments on her flying ability. "I was scared to death when you told me I had to fly us over there."

Sitting down, Griff sipped the hot, black coffee. "Why?"

"After the last incident over there, I sweated it."

He lifted the arm of his flight suit and pointed to the dark stain beneath the armpit. "We both did," Griff said with a wry smile.

Dana studied him. "You believe in confronting your fears, don't you? I know your best friend was killed in a midair collision over that field. And I just about got us killed by not seeing that other trainer the first time we flew over there."

Spreading out his long legs beneath the table, Griff nodded. "Just to set the record straight, when we got back that day, I lodged a flight protest on your behalf."

Dana gawked at him. "You did?"

"Yes. You were cleared of any wrongdoing. The other student pilot was at fault. And so was his instructor." Frowning, Griff added, "I don't want you thinking you caused a possible midair collision, Dana."

"When did you find out about this?" Had he hidden the information from her? Dana hoped not, for it would indicate he was still playing games with her.

Griff reached into his pocket and dug out a neatly folded piece of paper. "I got their judgment this afternoon," he said, handing it to her. "I thought you'd like to see their determination. It will go in your jacket."

Gratefully, Dana read the official report and handed it back to him. Even more important, Griff wasn't holding out on her. "You don't know how terrible I felt. I didn't want you to think I was like the student who killed your friend. I had a lot of fear…"

"Fear can get you killed," Griff agreed. "Going over there at the busiest time of day today, we were both able to work through some of our hangups—together."

"I admire your courage," she admitted.

"What else do you admire—in a man, that is?" Griff baited.

Dana leaned back in the chair and rolled her eyes. "You're asking the wrong person that, Griff."

"I don't think so."

Shaking her head, Dana muttered, "All my experiences with men have been bad ones."

"Even with me."

Dana heard the regret in Griff's voice. "I finally figured out that you probably weren't angry with me personally. I just happened to be a convenient whipping post."

"And for that, I'm sorry."

"You're paying me back by being fair now."

"I'm trying to be. So, what qualities do you admire in a man?"

Dana's mouth twitched and she spoke hesitantly. "Honesty. I don't believe
any
relationship can survive without it. Maggie and Molly have said they've met men who have a streak of sensitivity in them. I've never seen it personally, but I'd like to see that in a man, too."

"Sensitivity?"

Dana struggled to qualify what she meant. She rested her elbows on the table. "Why can't a man see the beauty of a sunset and the different colors in it? And why can't he feel as deeply as I do, and be able to tell me about it? I don't believe there's that much difference between us. We all have a heart that feels…"

"Men had been taught to ignore a large part of themselves," Griff offered quietly. "We feel just as deep and hard as any woman. We just don't share it—sometimes even with ourselves."

"Well," Dana grumped, "it's stupid to hide how you feel. When things were going bad at home, Mom always was able to cry. She taught me it was okay to express myself, even if it was just to her." Then, avoiding Griff's sharpened gaze, Dana added softly, "Crying helps me release the pressure cooker inside myself."

Griff held his breath for a moment. The fact that Dana would discuss her homelife with him at all told him how much she was beginning to trust him. "When I was out searching the beaches for you and Vickie, I got in touch with a hell of a lot of feelings I'd stored up. Just before I discovered the two of you, I stood by my car and cried for a long time." Giving a bashful shrug, Griff said, "In a way, Dana, you helped me release the grief I'd been carrying around for the past six months."

Openmouthed, Dana stared at him. Griff was toying with a pen in his hands, avoiding looking at her. "You cried?" she asked, then chastised herself for asking such an inane question.

"It's been known to happen," he answered wryly. Looking up, he held Dana's compassionate gaze. "It felt good. It had been a long time coming. In a way, Dana, you helped heal me." Griff shoved the pen into the upper-sleeve pocket on his left arm. "Hopefully, you'll let me help heal some of the damage I did to you."

Touched, Dana sat in the soothing silence. Griff was exquisitely human—and she realized her heart had never given up on believing there was innate goodness in him. "Maybe," she offered hesitantly, "we'll be able to heal each other."