He shook his head, setting the potato on the counter. “That’s only a week before the next launch. I’ll be exhausted.”
I stood and leaned against the counter next to him. “That’s your natural state.”
“Yours too.” He grabbed the other potato and rubbed oil over its surface. The muscles in his forearms rippled with the motion. Oil had splashed just above his left wrist and glistened with each movement.
“True…” I set my finger in the streak of oil and drew it farther up the inside of his arm. “This way, someone else will cook dinner for us.”
“And I’ll have to make witty conversation.”
“Oh no. No one expects witty from you.”
He laughed, and leaned down to kiss me. “Why this one?”
“I used to fly with Nicole Wargin.” I slipped around to stand behind Nathaniel. Running my hands around his ribcage, I leaned into him. “And … and I’m hoping that the senator might have thoughts about the need for women in the colony.”
“Ah-ha.” He turned in my arms, still holding the potato. Keeping his oily hands away from my clothes, he kissed me on the cheek, then at the base of my jaw, then nibbled a trail down my neck.
Between gasps, I managed to squeak out, “And you could use the same time to argue for the need to get off planet.”
“Well … I’m still going to be exhausted.”
“I could make it worth your while?”
“These potatoes still need to go into the oven.”
Laughing, I released my hold on his waist and stepped back. “Fine. Far be it from me to distract you.”
He bent down to open the oven door, giving me a look at his well-tailored trousers. Have I mentioned recently how fortunate I am to be married to Nathaniel? The warm air from the oven stirred a strand of his hair, and the light caught on that glinting oil again as he set both potatoes directly on the wire rack. He stood and kicked the oven door closed with his heel.
The heat from the oven seemed to warm the entire apartment. Nathaniel lifted a hand still glossy with oil. “I figure…” He traced a line down my throat. “It’ll take about an hour before those are ready.”
“Is that so?” My breathing was fast and heated. “Do I have time to make my argument for going to the dinner party?”
His finger continued its path, gliding along the collar of my shirt until he reached the top button. “As long as I get to make an argument for staying in.”
“Counterargument, confirmed.”
THIRTEEN
SPACE RECORD SET BY LEBOURGEOIS
Colonies in Space Would Aid Humanity
By HENRY TANNER
Special to The National Times.
KANSAS CITY, KS, Saturday, April 13, 1956—Lieutenant Colonel Jean-Paul Lebourgeois has given the International Aerospace Coalition another space record by staying in orbit more than four days. With this advancement, the IAC has demonstrated that working and sleeping in space is possible, a necessary step for the space program.
Nicole Wargin perched on the arm of the sofa in her living room, her glass filled with pre-Meteor champagne. The diamonds around her throat glittered above a glorious peacock green dress. Around us, the living room was filled with the cream of society in tuxedos and rich jewel-toned evening gowns, enjoying the kind of food that a ration book wouldn’t get you. If you couldn’t hear what Nicole was saying, she might have been any society maven.
Thank God she was more interesting than that.
“So the mechanic had sworn that the Hellcat was flightworthy, but I was at six thousand feet and my fuel gauge suddenly bottomed out.”
“Over the ocean?” Mrs. Hieber clasped a hand over her bosom in dismay. Earlier she had regaled us with stories of how she’d saved her prize roses from the Meteor winter through heroic use of glass and steam. Too bad she wasn’t interested in growing vegetables. I’d saved us by prompting Nicole to tell war stories. That I had another agenda was beside the point. At the moment, we weren’t hearing about aphid invasions.
I’d heard Nicole’s story before, so I just sipped my cocktail and enjoyed the show as Nicole pointed a manicured nail at her. “Yes. Over the ocean. Well, I hadn’t any other choice, had I, but to circle back to the aircraft carrier and tell them I was coming in.”
“No! Without an engine?”
“It was that or land in the ocean. When I landed, it turned out that the mechanic had missed a damaged fuel line. You should have heard the chief tear him up and down.” Unpowered landings were part of training, but landing on an aircraft carrier was a whole other ball of wax. She caught my eye and gave a wink. “Tell them about the Messerschmitts, Elma.”
I had been perfectly content to sit among the other women and listen to Nicole tell stories, but when your hostess invites you to take the floor … “Oh. Well. We weren’t supposed to be flying combat missions, because it was too ‘dangerous’ for women.”
Nicole snorted and shook her head. “Not that the Germans could tell who was flying a plane.”
“Exactly. So, I was delivering a Mustang to the Ambérieu-en-Bugey Air Base and a trio of Messerschmitts comes up out of nowhere.” The crowd around us had gained a few men, which I’d been hoping the topic would draw, but still … there were suddenly a lot of people listening to me. I took a sip of my champagne. “Bear in mind that I was flying a fighter plane, but it didn’t have any ammunition.”
“Oh no.” That came from Senator Wargin, who had joined his wife. He was a stout man who carried the weight well, beneath a full head of hair that was just beginning to gray.
“Oh yes. I had just enough time to radio for help, and then they started firing. All I could do was evade, and hope to outmaneuver them. And of course the day was utterly cloudless. But there’s this river valley that runs toward the base, and I thought that maybe I could find some cover there.”
Nicole leaned forward. “Which comes with its own set of problems, because you’re flying low, and there’s no room for mistakes.”
“But it was better than being shot at. So I’m tearing down the valley, with this da—dratted—German on my tail, and another one flying cover for him.” I tried to demonstrate where the other planes were in relation to me without spilling my drink. “I have no idea where the third is. All I’m trying to do is use the river bends to make sure they can never get a straight shot at me, and praying that our boys are going to find me in time.”
“And clearly they did.” Ah … the sound of smug masculinity.
I turned in my chair. “Actually, Colonel Parker, they didn’t.”
Of course he’d been invited to the dinner. Senator Wargin was excited about the space program, so naturally, he would want the first man in space there as another trophy guest, like Nathaniel.
Nicole laughed at the look of shock on Parker’s face. “She got one of them to shoot the other, flew the second into a cliff, and … what happened to the third?”
“I never saw him again. I’m assuming that when our boys did arrive, they chased him off.”
“Wait—” Parker held up his hand. “You’re telling me you downed two Messerschmitts without ammunition?”
The nice thing about anger is that it overrides my anxiety about being the center of attention. “I had the advantage of knowing the terrain. I’d been ferrying planes in for months and knew where the river forked. They clearly didn’t.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Are you calling my wife a liar?” Nathaniel does this thing with his voice when he’s angry that always reminds me of my father. It gets very low, and very controlled. Right now it was so tense, you could have stabilized a rocket with it. He stood just behind me, only a few feet from Parker.