Hard Line - Pamela Clare Page 0,7
set for the memorial service at eighteen-hundred hours in the lounge.”
“Thank you.”
Steve had asked her to say a few words because she had known Patty best. But Samantha was a card-carrying introvert, the thought putting a knot of dread in her stomach. She didn’t like public speaking, especially when she was upset. How was she supposed to talk about Patty without crying?
Samantha cleaned up and dressed for the walk back to the station. If this were a typical day, she would have kept working, but she needed time to think about what she was going to say. She put on all of her layers—snow pants, fleece, parka, bunny boots, two pairs of gloves, mask, hat, goggles, hood. She turned out the lights, left the telescope to work, and stepped out into the darkness and freezing cold.
Flags marked the path back to the station, which came in handy when high winds caused whiteout conditions. But the wind wasn’t bad tonight, the green light of the Aurora Australis dancing overhead, the Milky Way arching across the sky.
Samantha stopped, watched, willing herself to speak past the lump in her throat. “It’s beautiful today, Patty. I’m so sorry you’re not here to see it.”
Maybe Patty could see it. Maybe she saw it more clearly now than Samantha did. Maybe all of their questions about the universe were answered for her.
It would be nice to think so.
It was then Samantha noticed a man standing on the path about thirty feet ahead of her, his gaze focused upward. At first, she thought it must be Steve, but this man was taller than Steve and wore a white parka. NSF-issued parkas were bright red.
Then it hit her.
He must be one of the private security guys. She’d heard the plane arrive.
It was too cold for her to stand here, waiting for him to go indoors first, so she started walking again, irritated with him for interrupting what had felt like a private moment.
You’re irritated because of what he represents.
The crashed satellite. The mission to recover the military components.
She’d never understood other women’s fascination with military men. Sure, they were physically fit, and some were good-looking. But too often they had more testosterone than brains, reminding her of the JROTC boys on the football team who had bullied her in high school. Besides, this security team was encroaching on a space reserved for science. She didn’t like that at all.
She might have passed him without saying a word if ignoring him wouldn’t have been obvious. They were two of a little more than fifty people down here.
He turned his face toward her, mask and goggles concealing his features. “Hello.”
“Hi.” She had to ask. “Are you lost?”
He was tall, towering almost a foot above her.
He chuckled, looked up at the sky, speaking with an accent she couldn’t quite place. “I was just watching the aurora.”
Her gaze followed his. “It’s not always as bright as it is tonight.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Enjoy the view, but don’t stay out too long.” She walked by. “The cold sneaks up on people.”
He fell in beside her. “It’s not too bad right now.”
Behind her goggles, Samantha rolled her eyes. “Yeah. It’s not too bad.”
He was trying to act tough. Typical male behavior. It was minus fifty-five Celsius without the wind chill. Skin could freeze within minutes.
“What are those lights?” He pointed. “That’s not part of the station, is it?”
“That’s what we call Summer Camp. It used to be an overflow space before they built the new station. Most of the buildings have been dismantled or are used for storage. But two of them are still in use, one as a climbing gym and the other as a café or nightclub when people are stir crazy and just need to get out of the station.”
“A climbing gym? I might have to check that out.”
They walked the rest of the distance in silence, the man letting her walk up the stairs first. She opened the first door, holding it for him.
“Thanks.” He returned the favor at the second door.
“Thank you.” Inside now, she pulled off her goggles and mask, turned to ask him his name—and stared.
Whoa.
He was … very attractive. Square jaw with reddish stubble. Full lips. An elegant, straight nose. High cheekbones. Tanned skin flushed from the cold. Blue eyes with dark lashes. Short blond hair.
He said his name, pulled off a glove, held out his hand.
She took it, shook, his hand so much bigger than hers, his fingers warm. “I’m Dr. Samantha Park. I didn’t quite catch