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  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  Acclaim for Julie Cannon’s Fiction

  By the Author

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  Andrea Finley is the flight director for NASA’s latest space flight—to the moon. The mission is the first with a woman in charge, and Andrea will stop at nothing to ensure this is a textbook perfect mission. Her personal life is virtually nonexistent, and she has devoted her entire life to this, the pinnacle of her career.

  When the mission runs into serious trouble, Andrea has no choice but to call Kenner Hutchings, a brilliant twenty-something whiz kid from MIT with a reputation for living life fast and loose. Kenner is their last chance to save the lives of the seven astronauts entrusted into Andrea’s care.

  Andrea doesn’t trust Kenner to get the job done, and Kenner takes it as a challenge to break the reserve of her new boss. Can two strong-willed, powerful women overcome their differences to save the lives of seven others and begin a life they never imagined together?

  Acclaim for Julie Cannon’s Fiction

  In Smoke and Fire…“Cannon skillfully draws out the honest emotion and growing chemistry between her heroines, a slow burn that feels like constant foreplay leading to a spectacular climax. Though Brady is almost too good to be true, she’s the perfect match for Nicole. Every scene they share leaps off the page, making this a sweet, hot, memorable read.”—Publishers Weekly

  Breaker’s Passion is…“an exceptionally hot romance in an exceptionally romantic setting. …Cannon has become known for her well-drawn characters and well-written love scenes.”—Just About Write

  In Power Play…“Cannon gives her readers a high stakes game full of passion, humor, and incredible sex.”—Just About Write

  About Heartland…“There’s nothing coy about the passion of these unalike dykes—it ignites at first encounter and never abates. …Cannon’s well-constructed novel conveys more complexity of character and less overwrought melodrama than most stories in the crowded genre of lesbian-love-against-all-odds—a definite plus.”—Richard Labonte, Book Marks

  “Cannon has given her readers a novel rich in plot and rich in character development. Her vivid scenes touch our imaginations as her hot sex scenes touch us in many other areas. Uncharted Passage is a great read.”—Just About Write

  About Just Business…“Julie Cannon’s novels just keep getting better and better! This is a delightful tale that completely engages the reader. It’s a must read romance!”—Just About Write

  “Great plot, unusual twist and wonderful women. …[I Remember] is an inspired romance with extremely hot sex scenes and delightful passion.”—Lesbian Reading Room

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  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

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  © 2015 By Julie Cannon. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-438-4

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: October 2015

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri([email protected])

  By the Author

  Come and Get Me

  Heart 2 Heart

  Heartland

  Uncharted Passage

  Just Business

  Power Play

  Descent

  Breakers Passion

  Rescue Me

  I Remember

  Smoke and Fire

  Because of You

  Countdown

  Dedication

  To my mom—

  For all the nights we stayed up late and got up well before the sun to watch the astronauts on TV.

  Chapter One

  T-minus 01day:19hours:41minutes:07seconds

  “Houston, we have a problem.”

  Andrea sat up completely disoriented; the ringing pierced the night stillness like a whistle in a church. Her breathing was fast, a bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face, and her hand shook as she turned off her alarm clock. Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, she dropped her head into her hands and ran her hands through her hair, willing herself to regain control.

  The nightmare was coming more frequently now as the launch date drew closer. The fact that her alarm tone mimicked the ringing of a telephone didn’t help her nerves, but only that sound was guaranteed to wake her from a deep sleep.

  Taking several deep breaths and forcing herself to breathe more evenly, Andrea walked into the bathroom, her legs a little shaky. She studied herself critically in the mirror as she waited for the shower water to heat. She’d lost weight; the stress of the last month was evident in her protruding rib cage, the dark circles more prominent under her eyes.

  This will not do, she thought. I am the flight director for STS 1742. I am in command of the first mission to land a man on the moon in more than forty years. The success or failure of this mission will determine the future of space exploration to Mars. I cannot show any sign that I am not in complete control and completely confident in its success.

  A little more concealer and a few high-protein shakes during the day would hopefully remedy what she was looking at. Twenty minutes later she locked the door behind her, tossed her briefcase into the backseat, and backed out of her garage.

  With the exception of a lone jogger and her neighbor, out for his customary walk with his Great Dane, she didn’t see another person until she turned the corner onto South Washington Avenue. She’d chosen to live in Clear Lake City, a suburb southwest of Houston, Texas, because it was within easy driving distance to and from NASA. The city itself had close to two hundred thousand people, which swelled in the months preceding a scheduled flight and shrank in the months after it. The humidity was suffocating for most of the year, but during a few months it was simply tolerable. She’d grown up in Houston and learned long ago to just bear through the weather.

  Driving almost on autopilot, Andrea reviewed her mental checklist for her day, the final day before liftoff. She had mee
tings with each lead mission specialist, the flight controller, and the head of NASA, and she had one last visit with the seven astronauts entrusted to her care. At some point tonight she needed to get a few hours of sleep, which was in direct conflict with her natural instinct to remain on-site and micromanage every last-minute detail.

  Admittedly she was a control freak. And because she knew it, she used it her advantage and had learned over the past few years to let go of some things—at least on the surface. Her boss and coworkers had no idea that she followed them to ensure they had completed everything as required. This was her mission, and nothing could or would go wrong. Not only was this her first mission as the director, but everyone associated with this mission counted on her, depended on her to make the flight a success.

  She passed Captain Roy’s Bait and Tackle on her right, and a few hundred yards later she noticed the sign on the marque at Pinto’s Lounge that read FRI NITE UN4SAKN. Andrea had no idea if that was a band or a drink. The lights in the parking lot of DaVinci Tattoo and Piercing Parlor were her next markers. Traffic picked up as she passed streets with names like Saturn Lane, Gemini Street, Space Center Blvd, and Moonrock Drive. The area was riddled with space-related names, indicating that without a doubt she was within a few miles of the most famous space center in the world.

  She made a sweeping right turn onto NASA Parkway, which took her over Cow Bayou to the main gate. Phillip, the guard at the gate, greeted her as he had almost every day. He looked at the sticker on the left front bumper of her car and gave her badge more than a thorough once-over. Then he checked something on a list on his clipboard before signaling his partner to open the gate. Even though she’d passed through this gate almost every day for the past twelve years, he never failed to check her clearance. A friendly face was not an authorization to enter this secured facility.

  As she drove through the gate, she noted that the view before her was still breathtaking. The sun had not yet split the sky from dark to light, and the lights on the buildings and around the perimeter made the view even more spectacular. She never lost the rush when the sight came into view. To her right a large digital clock with red numbers slowly counted down the time remaining until liftoff.

  Chapter Two

  T-minus 01:18:12:52

  The parking lot was full, a testament to the increasing number of people who had been working twenty-four hours a day for the last several weeks in preparation for the flight. Andrea parked her car next to a beat-up Ford F-150 pickup truck, its passenger-side mirror taped to the door with standard gray duct tape. Flight Commander Jason Albert had insisted on including at least five rolls of the heavy tape, saying they could use it for everything from repairing a torn hem to securing the wing on an airplane. Andrea was surprised he didn’t ask to include some bailing wire in the payload as well.

  Andrea slid her card key in and out of the card reader to the right of the thick, high-security entrance door. A loud whoosh greeted her as the doors slid open, and she stepped inside. She set her briefcase on the conveyer belt for its run through the X-ray machine and stepped into the virtual scanner for the daily peek under her clothes. Getting the all-clear signal, she badged in through one more set of double doors and walked down the hall toward the elevator to her office.

  She knew the two men who were already waiting for the elevator, and they exchanged pleasantries. Seven more of her fellow NASA employees joined them, their badges displaying their photo, name, and department. Andrea barely heard the ding of the arriving car, its sound drowned out by the conversation around her. One of the men must have been relatively new because he commented on the confusing maze of halls that made up the Mission Control Center.

  A little more than three years ago, after Andrea was named as flight director, her sister, Beth, had read the description of the space center from Wikipedia. They’d been seated in a corner booth at McDougal’s, their favorite burger joint. It had been a popular location to hang out after class in high school, and both she and Beth had been there more times than she could count, including many of them with dates. Other than reupholstered seats, new tile on the floor, and several dozen coats of paint, the decor hadn’t changed much in the past twenty-plus years. The waitresses still wore the same industrial-strength black dresses with white aprons. Andrea couldn’t understand the white aprons—white in a burger joint with an abundance of ketchup, mustard, and hot sauce? Their uniforms were topped off, literally, with ridiculous black bows secured to the top of their head with bobby pins, or who knows what else.

  In her booming, theatrical voice Beth recited, “The Johnson Space Center is the National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s center for human spaceflight training, research, and flight control. The center consists of a complex of one hundred buildings constructed on over sixteen hundred acres and was nicknamed ‘Space City’ in 1967. The Flight Director, also known as ‘Flight,’ has the overall responsibility for missions and payload operations and for all decisions regarding safe, expedient flight. The Mission Operations Director, or MOD,” Beth spelled out the letters, “is a representative of the senior management chain at the JSC and is there to help the flight director make those decisions that have no safety-of-flight consequences, but may have cost or public perception consequences. The MOD cannot overrule the Flight Director during a mission.”

  “Thanks,” Andrea said, stabbing her lettuce with her fork. “But you know what I do. Why all the fuss?” She’d been surprised when Beth had called and invited her for lunch. They usually kept in touch by phone or, when their lives got really hectic, texts. Occasionally they’d do a family barbecue.

  “Because it is a big deal, little sister. It’s not every day you’re named as the top dog on a space mission. A space mission, for crying out loud,” she said, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe it. Hey, do you remember when we used to watch reruns of Lost in Space on that oldies TV station? ‘Warning Will Robinson, warning,’” Beth said, moving her stiff arms up and down, mimicking the robot on the 1960s TV show. They both laughed.

  “All I wanted was to be Major Don West, the pilot of the Jupiter 2,” Andrea said wistfully. She’d dreamed of being an astronaut, but her vision didn’t share the same dream. Without her contacts she could barely see her fingers in front of her face.

  “That’s because you had the hots for the daughter. What was her name?” Beth asked, tapping her fork on her plate like the motion would make her remember the character’s name.

  “Judy, and I did not have the hots for her,” Andrea said.

  “You just didn’t know you had the hots for her yet,” Beth said in her I’m-the-older-therefore-smarter-twin tone. “We had it figured out long before you did. I, for one, am sure glad you’ve increased your self-awareness since then.”

  Andrea reflected on that comment while they finished the order of onion rings they were sharing. “I’ll never forget my coming-out conversation with Mom. Remember? I was twenty-three, sitting in the living room of the house I grew up in when I manage to have that awkward discussion.”

  “I can just picture it,” Beth said, grinning. “Mom was at the sink probably peeling potatoes for dinner or shucking green beans, and you were sitting on that rickety bar stool wringing your hands like you do when you’re nervous.”

  That was creepy because that was exactly how it happened. “I practiced what I was going to tell her for days, but when the time came, my mind went blank. Somehow I was able to say, ‘Mom, uh, there’s something I need to talk to you about.’ My hands were damp and clammy, and I kept wiping them on my pants. My mouth was dry and my voice quivered, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I was a mess. And when she said ‘You’re pregnant,’ I knew the conversation was going to be more difficult than I’d imagined.”

  Both she and Beth laughed, and Andrea took another bite of her ring. “All I could say was ‘No, I’m not pregnant.’ Then I was a complete idiot and said, ‘As a matter of fact, Mom, I’ll never have to worry about getting pregn
ant when I have sex.’ That was the stupidest thing I could have said. I didn’t want to make it about sex. Jeez, not with Mom,” she added with distaste.

  “Then Mom looked at me like I’d just spoken in a foreign language. She asked me what in the hell I was talking about.”

  “That’s Mom,” Beth said chuckling. “Never one to mince words. Typical high-school math teacher.”

  Andrea nodded. “Yeah. Mom’s so linear and not very good with abstract concepts or subtleties. I think that’s what worried me the most—knowing I’d have to spell things out for her. Obviously that was one of those times.

  “So I just came out with it. ‘I’m a lesbian, Mom.’ Just that simple. She cocked her head in that way she does when she’s thinking something through.”

  This time Beth nodded.

  “And then with a straight face Mom said, ‘And Beth is a Republican and we still love her. What’s your point?’ I about fell out of the chair. And that was the end of that conversation.”

  “God, Andi, every time you tell that story I can hear Mom’s voice. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.”

  “She was so cool about it. I knew she wouldn’t disown me, but I was scared to death. And my big news turned out to be almost a nonevent, like everyone had known about me before I did.”

  Andrea shook her head, embarrassed by how silly she’d been, and returned the conversation to her early fascination with space travel. “My favorite was The Jetsons. I thought it was the coolest thing that George Jetson would fly around Orbit City in his little spaceship.”