No Quarter Given (SSE 667) (24 page)

Leaning forward, placing his elbows on the table, he said, "I agree with you. Carol played a game with me, and I fell for it."

Nervously, Dana fingered the damask tablecloth. "So, if you're not here with me out of gratefulness, what is it?" She forced herself to hold his warm gaze.

"I'm here because I enjoy your company. I like your laughter and I like it when you smile. You're a bright, intelligent woman who has one hell of a backbone. And, if the truth be known, I'm fascinated by you."

Dana sat very still as she digested Griff's admission. "Because I proved myself out in that riptide?"

With a sigh, he sat back. "It took that incident to get me to see a lot of things about myself, and it forced me to look at plenty of other issues, Dana. You were a catalyst for me."

"You've sure been one for me, too," she muttered.

He grinned. "Yeah? In what way?"

Uneasily Dana squirmed in her chair. "I—I'm not prepared to say much about it right now, Griff. At least, not yet."

Satisfied that he meant more to her than just an instructor, Griff was content not to push her. "Fair enough." He glanced at his watch. "Come on. I'd better get you back to the station to pick up your car. We've got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, and it's getting late."

Reluctant to leave, Dana nodded. "It's been a wonderful dinner, Griff. Thank you."

Rising, he smiled. "A dream come true for me."

As Dana walked at his shoulder through the darkened interior, she gave him a wary look. " 'A dream come true'?"

"Now, there you go, giving me that look like I'm feeding you a line—again."

Embarrassed, Dana walked out the door to the parking lot. "I guess I had that coming."

Risking the trust he'd established with her, Griff placed his hand on Dana's elbow, walking close to her. "I guess you did. Not every line is a lie, Dana. Can I help it if I think you're beautiful? Or that you walk with an incredible grace I've never seen in another woman?" He looked down to see the effect his admissions had on her. Her eyes were wide and lustrous with wonder—and trust. Her mouth was unbearably attractive, and he ached to stop her, to take her into his arms and kiss her until she ran like hot honey through his fingers.

Dana slowed as they neared the sports car in the partially filled parking lot. "Sometimes I have a tough time telling a line from the truth," she admitted. Griff's hand tightened momentarily on her elbow, and he drew her to a halt. She turned, mere inches separating them. Looking up into his darkened face, she felt herself go shaky inside.

"There's one way to tell," Griff whispered, placing his hands lightly on her upper arms.

"How?" Dana saw his eyes narrow with intent. Griff urged her forward. It seemed so right to her, the gentleness of his action giving her time to decide whether or not she wanted to partake in what he was offering. Griff was going to kiss her. She saw the look in his eyes; his intention was unmistakable.

Caressing her shoulder, Griff whispered, "Your heart will never lead you wrong." His hand tightened on her arms. Hoarsely he said, "Dana, I want to kiss you...and I promised you I'd never take unless you wanted to give. I meant that." The throbbing heat within him was almost painful. Dana was so close, her lips parted, begging to be kissed. Griff held himself in steely control.

Pressed against his hard, warm body, Dana's mind centered on the shocking, wonderful sensation created by their contact. Drowning in the stormy gray of his eyes, she couldn't find her voice. She felt the powerful beat of his heart against her breasts. This was so different from the way Lombard had treated her. She felt the potent vibration of need telegraphing through every muscle in Griffs body, but she also knew he would respect her wishes. The thought was galvanizing, heated.

Leaning upward, Dana pressed her hands against his chest and whispered unsteadily, "Yes, I want to kiss you"

A groan vibrated through Griff as her hands grazed his chest. Everything about Dana's reaction was exquisite. Leaning down, he cherished her lips, feeling the soft, giving texture of them. A little rush of air escaped her, and he savored her response. Dana was trembling! Ever so gently, Griff coaxed her lips apart, allowing her time to adjust and get in touch with her own womanly response to him.

Dana's world melted as Griff's strong mouth eased her lips apart. She could taste the coffee they'd drunk. Her breathing ragged, she responded, hearing a groan begin deep within Griff. His tongue caressed the corners of her mouth, and a little cry echoed in her throat—sensations startling and new. Nipping at her lower lip, he cajoled her to come to him, to lean completely against his frame. Wanting more, Dana slid her arms around his neck, kissing him with hungry intent. She wasn't disappointed as he claimed her hotly, his lips devouring her, telling her of his urgent need for her. Surrendering to his arms, Dana followed her feminine instincts.

Her fingers laced through his dark hair. The muscles in Griff's neck were tense, and she felt a fine quiver race through him. As his hands framed her face, his mouth teaching her how to kiss him deeply, her world dissolved and joined his. A world of heat, of lightning striking through her, created a throbbing sensation between her legs that grew to an ache until she felt a languid weakness flowing through her like a molten river of fiery lava. Ever so gently, Griff kissed both corners of her mouth, brushed her lower lip with his tongue and then withdrew, his face inches from hers.

"You're so hot, so beautiful," he rasped. Unsteadily, Griff caressed her short, silky hair. "Dreams are made of someone like you," he admitted near her ear. Running his hand across her small shoulders and down her spine in a gesture meant to help stabilize Dana, he pressed a kiss to her temple. She smelled of a faint, flowery perfume, intoxicating his starved, alert senses.

Gradually Dana pulled away, though Griff's hand stayed on her arm. The smoldering promise remained in his hooded eyes as she tried to reorient herself. Leaning against the car, she gave him a wry look.

"I thought I was going to melt away," Dana admitted in a wispy voice.

"That made two of us, sweetheart." Griff eased next to her. Above, the stars were points of sparkling light on the dark quilt of the sky. The gulf wind ruffled briefly, moist and warm, like the kiss they'd just shared. Griff smiled down at Dana and noticed, even in the poor light, that her cheeks were suffused with a rosy blush.

As Dana stood there, she remembered Maggie telling her once that when the right man kissed her, she'd feel light and wonderful afterward. Well, she did now. Holding his intense gaze, Dana wondered where their budding relationship was going. It scared her. Yet, Griff had done nothing to frighten her; had only made her aware of her own special femininity as never before. Wrapping her arms around herself, Dana said softly, "This has never happened before, Griff. Not this way."

"I like what we shared, Dana. There's no hurry, no pressure. Good things take time."

She slanted an amused glance in his direction. "For a jet jock, your philosophy is the opposite of most guys'."

Griff placed his arm around her. "And 'most guys' haven't found you. You're different, Dana. And I know you're afraid of men in general. If I was in your shoes, I would be, too." He frowned and looked up at the star-laden sky. "I want the chance to explore what we have—on your terms, your time. That's the only way it's going to work, and I know it. If I push you, or start demanding things, you're going to run, and I don't want that."

"Still," Dana whispered, "it's new to me, Griff. You're different, and I don't have any experience with a man who's sensitive and gentle. I'm not used to it."

Wanting to kiss her again, but afraid of pressuring Dana too much, Griff stepped away and opened the car door for her. "Look, for the next couple of months we'll be around each other. That should give you time to see if you want to risk your neck with me."

He was teasing her, but Dana read between the lines as she slipped into the car. Tonight, Griff had allowed her the choice and control of the situation between them. Would it continue, or was it all an elaborate game? Her heart told her to trust Griff. Her wary head suggested caution. In three weeks, if she kept up her flight grades, she would leave Griffs instruction and other instructors from the flight pool would teach her for the duration of the course. As he got into the car, she stared at him.

"You said there was no hurry."

Griff turned, studying her shadowed face. Dana's eyes were luminous from their shared kiss. "That's right. Experience has taught me that time is on my side—not the opposite."

The weight on her shoulders disappeared. Dana leaned back, absorbing Griff's words. Most of all, she remembered the beauty, the gift of the kiss they'd shared. It was a dream, a wonderful dream. Would it continue? She was afraid to know the answer to that question. Besides, her flight training came first. And equally important was her worry about Molly. If Molly got Boarded one more time, she'd be washed out of the program. Dana didn't want that to happen. Molly was like the sister she'd never had, and Dana relied heavily on her in an emotional sense. Shutting her eyes, Dana leaned her head back, content to be swallowed up by darkness as the Corvette growled through the night.

***

Dana stepped into the apartment a week later and heard crying. Frowning, she placed her books on the couch and followed the sound. It led to Molly's bedroom. The door was open, and she stepped inside. Maggie was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Molly, who was sobbing her heart out.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Dana asked, moving to Molly's side and sitting down opposite Maggie.

Grimly, Maggie explained, "Molly was Boarded a second time."

It felt as if an ice pick had been plunged through Dana's heart. "Oh, no!" She placed her arm around Molly's heaving shoulders.

"I just got home a few minutes ago," Maggie said, "and I found her in here crying alone."

Alone.
Dana knew that situation well herself. Gently stroking Molly's blond hair, she whispered, "I'm sorry, Molly. So sorry…"

Maggie handed Molly another tissue, absently moving her hand up and down her friend's back in an effort to calm her. "She goes before the Board tomorrow morning."

Dana took the damp Kleenex from Molly as she finished mopping her reddened eyes. "I'm sorry, Molly."

"I... it's okay. The IP's right: I'm just not cut out for this." She sniffed, taking another tissue from Maggie. "B-but I worry about my family. What will my father think? And Scott? Oh, God! I've got to call and tell them." And she began to cry in earnest.

Dana took Molly into her arms when Maggie rose and went to get a cold washcloth from the bathroom. The look of anger in Maggie's eyes spoke volumes. Tucking Molly's head against her small neck and shoulder, Dana whispered soothingly to her. Maggie returned and sat down. Dana took the cloth and pressed it gently to Molly's brow and eyes.

Maggie shook her head. Dana knew they had talked about Molly's family pressuring her; and yet, when they tried to broach the topic with Molly, she refused to see what Maggie and Dana saw so clearly: that Molly's life was being orchestrated by her father and brother. She had no life of her own. She was tied to weekly letters and phone calls, held accountable to them, and they always overreacted to her efforts.

Dana sighed heavily, holding Molly as her sobs began to lessen, until finally she quieted. Breaking the silence, Dana asked her in a low voice, "If they Board you, what does it mean?"

Molly slowly sat up and pressed the washcloth to her eyes. "I'll get assigned somewhere else," she croaked, her voice wobbling. She gave them a tearful look. "I'll have to move. I'll be alone...."

The pain in Dana's heart widened. She'd been alone all her life and couldn't wish the experience on anyone. "But you'll have us, Mol. We're write and call you—even if they send you to Timbuktu."

Rallying, Molly tried to smile. Maggie's laugh was forced.

Dana watched Maggie get up and pace, the fury coupled with anxiety in her eyes was evident. Molly was the softest, the gentlest of the three of them. Dana had no doubts about herself or Maggie being able to survive life's punches on the chin. But Molly? The three of them were as close as sisters. Would this Board destroy her? The possibility was real, and it made Dana nauseous. No one deserved this kind of sentence. Especially Molly. There wasn't a mean bone in her body. Her heart was always open and generous to those in need. Dana had been helped by her too many times to count. Now Dana felt helpless. There really was nothing she could do for Molly except be there in the form of moral support.

"You know what I dread more than anything?" Molly whispered, staring down at the cloth in her hands.

"What?" Dana asked hoarsely.

"Telling my father and Scott."

Maggie stopped pacing, her hands placed on her hips in defiance. "Well, those two are just going to have to roll with the punches for once, Molly! I hope they're more concerned for you—for your next duty station or school—than that dream they want you to pursue for them!"

Molly took a deep, unsteady breath, her lower lip trembling. "Tomorrow, I'll find out what the Navy will do with me."

***

Dana and Maggie waited tensely on the hardwood bench outside the Boarding room. It didn't take long. Thirty minutes later, Molly emerged, waxen and solemn. They got up, sheltering her as they walked down the empty hallway toward the doors that led to the parking lot.

Dana didn't care whether it was militarily correct or not— she placed her arm around Molly's waist. Maggie put her arm around Molly's sagging shoulders.

"Well?" Dana probed.

"I'm washed out. Th-they were kind about it. Captain Ramsey said I had a fine academic record and that the Navy wasn't going to waste my skills."

"So?" Maggie said impatiently. "What does that mean?"

Molly managed a slight smile. "They're sending me to Patuxent River, Maryland, to try to become a flight-test engineer."

Dana jerked to a halt, her mouth dropping open. "What? Test school?" It was a plum of naval aviation to be a test pilot or a flight-test engineer.