Space in His Heart (22 page)

Without another
word, Carla got up and took a manila file folder off her desk and
dropped it on the coffee table. “Well, then, Jess. Never let it be
said that you fucked your way to the top.”

Jessica picked
up the folder and lifted her gaze to meet Carla’s. The hazel eyes
held a dare and a challenge. “Now, who would say a thing like that,
Carla?”

Carla sauntered
behind her massive, light-oak desk and pulled out the chair. “I
understand you didn’t have a chance to talk to Tony while you were
in New York.”

“No. He got
pulled into some damage control.” Jessica casually opened the file
and started reading the first page of what appeared to be at least
an eighty-page marketing plan. Jeez. Even the introduction was
good.

“
Uh-huh,”
Carla said. “The
Today
s
how
situation.”

That
you
caused,
Jessica almost said. But her mantra played steadily in her
head.
Pick
your battles. Pick your battles
. She would not fight this one. Her fight was with Tony,
not Carla.

“And you were…”
Carla cleared her throat. “Not available later that day, as I
understand it.”

The words of
the marketing plan ran together. Was this an accusation? Just how
much of her personal life did Carla know? She looked up
questioningly. “Me? My cell’s on twenty-four seven, Carla. You know
that.”

“Oh, I know.
It’s just that Tony said he tried to find you, but you’d already
checked out of the Plaza.” Carla settled into her desk chair. “I
guess he wasn’t sure where you were that night.”

Could she be
any more obvious? “What did he need to tell me?”

“That he’s
announcing a GM for this office by the end of the year.” Carla
crossed her arms and leaned back, the mistress of her blond-wood
domain. “Hasn’t he called you yet? It’s been a week.”

Jessica held
her gaze and refused to take the bait Carla was offering. “It’s not
the end of the year yet. Perhaps he’s waiting to make a final
decision.”

“Perhaps.”
Carla nodded.

“Hey, stranger.
I heard you were back.”

Jessica turned
to see her old secretary, Rita Ross, standing in the doorway. “Hi,
Rossy. I’m here for the week.”

Rita grinned
and winked. “Good. We’ll catch up. Bill Dugan’s on three.”

Jessica stood
and scooped up the marketing plan. “Great, I’m dying to talk to
him.”

“Uh… he’s
holding for Carla, actually.”

A slow burn
warmed Jessica’s neck. “Okay.” She grabbed her Palm Pilot and
shrugged. “I was just leaving anyway.”

* * *

Skip
Bowker hung up the phone and peered through the glass wall of his
office toward the main hangar of the OPF. He watched the impressive
figure of Commander Stockard stride by without so much as a glance
in his direction. Deke was a very, very busy
man
these days with his girlfriend gone and
his time freed up again.

He’d been
in the facility nearly fifteen hours a day and showed no signs of
giving up. Man, he would have fit right in with the crew back in
the Apollo days. They would have eaten up a guy with that kind of
determination and dedication. Not like these whiny twenty-something
engineers who drifted in and out at their whim. In the old days,
they had a purpose. They had a cause. They had an enemy.

Now they
had something called the United Space Alliance and a bunch of
contractors who were stepping all over each other to get a
dollar.
Cosmonauts
, for
Christ’s sake, living off American taxes on an American space
station. It was enough to make a guy want to throw up.

Jesus. It was
so different now.

But it could
change back so easily. That’s what he’d been trying to tell his
friend for the last twenty minutes. Things were not exactly as they
looked around here, and if the right people knew about it, the
wrong people would get shit-canned in a hurry.

Then they might
be able to go back to the way things were. He was counting on his
friend to help him. He’d seemed intelligent enough the few times
they’d met in the past. A smart and ambitious character who would
take the information Skip handed him on a platter and do something
with it.

No one should
have to die. Unless they’re dumb enough to climb in that bird and
try to take it up to the space station. Then they’d all have to
watch that white cloud of death explode over the Atlantic Ocean one
more time.

The image
made his gut burn. Betsy and
Challenger
. Nothing had ever been the same since 1986.

If they were
smart, they’d just let the Commie kick and turn him into space
junk.

If they were
smart.

He watched
lithe Deke Stockard climb into the hatch of the shuttle, clinging
to his precious PLIC logs. Now Deke was smart, or at least he was
until he’d gotten completely distracted by a pretty girl.

Skip smiled,
thinking of Betsy and her trusting brown eyes. Well, hell. That can
happen to a guy. That sure can happen to a guy.

* * *

Jessica had
just finished fluffing out her one-foot-tall, pre-decorated
Bloomingdale’s artificial Christmas tree when the front desk guard
called to announce that Jo Miller had arrived.

Crossing the
hardwood floor in bare feet, she opened the door of her condo with
an expectant smile on her face. They hadn’t had a moment to chat
for the last two days. This visit was Jessica’s whole Christmas,
having gotten the message loud and clear that Dad wasn’t up for
company over the holiday. She couldn’t wait to settle in for a nice
long chat with her best friend.

Jo swept in
after they’d hugged in the hallway. “Oh, Jess. You broke out the
big-time Christmas decorations.” She tapped the tiny tree and threw
her red wool coat on a chair. “Just for moi?”

“Shut up. I
can’t find the mistletoe.”

Jo crumpled
into her favorite corner of the sofa and kicked off her heels.
“That’s okay. You left the mistletoe-ee in Florida.”

“Oh, please.
Not you, too.”

Jo smiled
slyly. “Hey, this is me. I know the truth. How was the sail?”

Jessica stepped
behind the kitchen counter and pulled the cork out of the white
wine she’d been chilling. “Dee-vine.”

“How divine?”
Jo rubbed her feet. “And just pour me water, okay?”

“Water?
Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, Jo. And God knows after my meeting with
the Grinch this afternoon, I could use a drink.”

“We’ll get to
her in a minute. Exactly how divine?”

Jessica sighed,
longing to tell her, but not sure if somehow the magic would
evaporate if she committed it to words. “Not over-the-top divine,
but close. Why water?”

“I’m thirsty.
Is that a crime? How close?”

“Second base.
Are you pregnant?”

Jo froze
mid-foot massage and flashed a guilty look at Jessica. “Don’t ruin
the present, hon. I have the little plus sign all wrapped up in a
box for you.”

A rush of
warmth poured over Jessica, and a little mewing sound
escap
ed
her
lips.

“I need a
godmother, too,” Jo said quietly.

“Oh my God.”
Jessica put the bottle down and practically ran across the room to
Jo, the lump in her throat nearly choking her. “I’d be
honored.”

Jo really
did have a box with a white plastic case with a pink plus sign
wrapped for Jessica and she insisted it be opened with all due
ceremony. Jessica held
the gift
for a long time, treasuring it in precisely the spirit it
had been given to her.

“I’m so happy
for you, Jo. You’re going to be a great mother.”

“I’d love
company, doll,” Jo said as she cut a generous slice of brie and
smeared it on a piece of French bread. “Why don’t you hook up with
the rocket man and we can get fat together?”

Jessica smiled
and twirled the plastic in her hand. “Get real, Miller.”

“I am real.
Marlowe.” Jo leaned forward and put a gentle hand on Jessica’s arm.
“There’s more to life than work, honey.”

“So I’ve
heard.”

“What’s
stopping you?”

Jessica fluffed
a pillow on the floor and laid down, her wine glass precariously
balanced on her stomach. She looked at it and smiled. “For one
thing, if I get as fat as you will, I won’t be able to do
this.”

Jo didn’t
laugh. “This guy’s different, isn’t he?”

Jessica grabbed
the glass before it tipped. “Different from Gary? Well, he’s not an
investment banker who thinks he’s a Master of the Universe.”

“
He
is
a Master of
the Universe, for crying out loud. He’s an astronaut!” Jo laughed a
little. “Gary was just a walking ego that you wisely
dumped.”

Jessica smiled
and crunched up enough to take a sip of wine. She swallowed and
dropped her head back onto the pillow, closing her eyes. “He’s the
most amazing man I’ve ever met, Jo.”

Jo said
nothing.

“He’s brilliant
and driven and caring and stubborn and talented and funny and
sarcastic and sweet and oh, God in heaven, he is hot.”

Jo
chuckled. “I noticed. He looked particularly good on the
Tonight
Show
. Did you pick that
black outfit?”

“Mmmm. No. He
looks good in everything, though. Did I mention that he’s
brilliant?”

“At least
once.”

“Did I say
funny?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And sexy.”
Jessica moaned softly. “He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met.”

“
Well, I
certainly wouldn’t slow down your killer climb up the career ladder
for anything
that
unappealing.” Jo bit a cracker. “What a disappointment
you’d be to the old professor who raised you.”

“Don’t start on
Dad. He’s just too old to get mad at anymore.”

“Okay. What’s
Commander Perfect’s fatal flaw?”

“Fatal. Hah.
That’s just it.” Jessica narrowed her eyes, thinking about how many
times he’d referenced not coming home from work. “He seems to think
he’s going to die.”

“We all
are.”

“But he’s a
risk-taker to the nth degree.”

Jo chuckled.
“Not if he doesn’t want to fall in love with you, he’s not.”

Jessica looked
at her. “I never thought about it that way.”

She reached up
to the table over her head and grabbed the small white plastic
pregnancy test. Could she ever do this? Was she a risk-taker? Was
she up to the one challenge that she didn’t feel smart or competent
enough to tackle?

She moved the
wine glass and absently rubbed her tummy. She’d never met anyone
who made her think of such possibilities.

But at
that moment, they seemed
as infinite as space
.

Chapter
Seventeen

Deke swore
under his breath as he whipped the bow tie open in frustration for
the third time, then concentrated on looping an even knot. With a
final tug, he stepped back to appraise his work. He was satisfied,
but couldn’t resist reaching into the collar to pull at the stiff
fabric that choked him on the balmy December night.

He grabbed his
keys in arrogant defiance, knowing full well that a limo driver
lingered in his driveway, looking completely out of place leaning
against a pearly stretch Lincoln Continental. Deke had all but
barked at the poor kid when he’d arrived ten minutes ago with a
stammering explanation that he’d gone to Jessica’s house first, but
she wasn’t quite ready and had sent him down here. Deke glared at
the clean-scrubbed driver and immediately disliked him for no
rational reason.

He just didn’t
want to drive fifty miles to Orlando staring across the ridiculous
expanse of a limousine with some goofy kid at the wheel trying to
act like he wasn’t listening or watching. After ten days, Deke
wanted to be completely alone with Jessica.

“Tell you
what.” He put a friendly hand on the kid’s shoulder. “You follow.
I’m taking my own car.”

“Uh, sure. You
got it, sir.” The driver hesitated for a moment and squinted at
Deke. “Sir? Is she going with you or me?”

Deke grinned.
“Damn straight she’s going with me.”

Driving the
short distance to Jessica’s house, Deke finally indulged in the
anticipation that had been quietly fighting for a share of his mind
over the past week and a half. He’d gotten very adept at ignoring
the subtle pressure Jessica Marlowe put on his subconscious,
spending nearly every waking moment at the Orbiter Processing
Facility.

He’d
studied every seal, tube, and wire he could get his hands on,
reviewed the reports on the last mission
,
and quietly grilled Skip Bowker. In general, he
put the engineers through hell trying to ensure that whatever
caused the hydrogen leak on
Columbia
wouldn’t happen again on
Endeavour
. The whole process had left little time for
romantic reveries.

But he’d wake
in the violet-gold half-light of dawn and walk out to the end of
his dock with a cup of coffee to admire the heavenly reflection on
the water every morning. Only then did he acknowledge that he
missed her. Truly missed her. He’d wonder what she was doing at
those same moments, imagining her sleeping in her home in cold and
cloudy Boston, the now familiar stirring of desire shooting through
him.

He wanted her
so damn bad, he felt like a teenage boy.

With the
exception of a few hours on Christmas spent with the Clarks, Deke
had only allowed himself one free evening since she’d left. He used
that to invite Caryn Camden for a quiet drink and to tell her that
he wouldn’t be calling anymore.