She never mentioned her social life to him, or to anyone, it didn't mean anything to her, no matter how much they wrote about it in the papers. Nancy had found a lot of young men to escort her, most of whom knew nothing about planes, and some of them were actors who needed to be seen too. It was all about being “seen,” and where she went, and who you were “seen” with. She didn't want to be seen with any of them, and most of the time, they just posed for photographs and then took her home, and she would collapse into bed, relieved to be rid of them. The only thing she really loved about her new movie-star life was the flying.

And the flying was incredible. Sailing into the dawn in the Phaeton, breaking all records for speed, was the sweetest thing she had ever done, and probably the most dangerous. But much to her own surprise, with the incredible machines, she was honing her skills here. She was learning how to handle very heavy planes, learning how to compensate for any problems they had, signaling them to the engineers, and correcting them right along with them. Her input was valued here, her views, they admired the way she flew, and they understood everything she wanted. It was every pilot's dream to be in the seat she was in, and as long as she was in the air, there was no question about it. She loved it.

She was stepping out of an Army pursuit plane with a Merlin engine on it for more speed, one afternoon, after a short flight over Las Vegas to make some notes for the design team, when a hand reached up to her and helped her down, and she was surprised to see it was Desmond Williams. He was as impeccable as ever, and his hair blew a little off his face in the soft breeze and he looked suddenly less rigid, and much younger than the other times she'd seen him.

“Did you have a good flight?”

“I did. But the Merlin engine was disappointing here. It still didn't give us what we wanted out of this plane. We have to try something else. But I've got some ideas I want to kick around with the design team tomorrow. The plane was pulling to port on takeoff too, which is a real problem.” She always thought of his planes, and the problems they needed to conquer. At night she dreamed of them, and by day she pressed them to their limits. And as he glanced at her, he was more impressed than ever with what he was hearing. She was a gold mine.

“Sounds like you need a break.” He smiled at her, as she pushed her hair out of her eyes and smoothed her uniform. She still longed for her overalls sometimes, and the old days of never caring how she looked when she flew. To Cassie, it didn't matter. “How about dinner tonight?”

She was surprised at the invitation, and wondered if he had something on his mind. Maybe he was unhappy with her. He had never invited her out before, and their dealings with each other had been strictly business.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Williams?” She looked worried and he laughed at the question. She wondered if maybe he was firing her, and he shook his head and looked at her in amusement.

“The only thing wrong is that you work too hard, and have absolutely no idea what a miracle you are. Of course nothing's wrong. I just thought it might be nice to have dinner.”

“Sure,” she said shyly, wondering what it would be like to have dinner with him. He was so handsome and so perfect and so smart, and so rich, that he scared her. Nancy always said what good company he was, and how pleasant, and she seemed to know him well. But he still frightened Cassie more than a little.

“What do you like? French? Italian? There are some wonderful restaurants in Los Angeles. I imagine you've been to them all by now.”

“Yes, I have.” She looked him right in the eye, overcoming her shyness for a moment. “And I wish I hadn't.”

“So I hear.” He smiled at her. “I understand you've been chafing at your social schedule.” He looked almost fatherly for an instant, despite his age, and Cassie could see why Nancy liked him.

“That's putting it mildly. I just don't see why I have to go out every night if I'm going to fly for you at four o'clock the next morning.”

“Maybe you should get a later start.” He said practically, but she groaned in answer.

“That's what Nancy said. But flying is the important part. Going out doesn't matter.”

He stopped walking with her then, and looked down at her, and she was totally surprised to realize how much taller he was. In more ways than one, he was a man of great stature. “It's all important, Cassie. All of it. Not just the flying. But the going out too. Look what the papers say about you… what the public thinks now… how much they love you… Look how much that means, how much access that gives you to them, how much weight you carry with the public after only a month here. They want to know what you eat, what you read, what you think. Don't ever underestimate that. It's the power of the American public.”

“I don't get it,” she said, looking like a kid, and he smiled at her. He already knew her better than that. He had an uncanny sense about people.

“Yes, you do,” be said quietly. “You just don't want to. You want to play the game on your terms. But you'll get a lot more out of it in the end, if you play my way. Trust me.”

“Having dinner at the Cocoanut Grove, or Mocambo, isn't going to make me a better flier.”

“No, but it will make you exciting… glamorous… someone people want to know more about. It will make them listen to you, and once they're listening, you can tell them anything you want to.”

“And if I'm asleep at home in bed, they won't listen?” She grinned, but she had gotten his point, and she was intrigued by it, and he knew it.

“All they'll hear then, Miss O'Malley, is you snoring.”

She laughed at him, and he left her at the hangar a few minutes later. He had promised to pick her up at seven o'clock, and said he would tell her later where they were going.

She told Nancy who she was having dinner with when she got home, but she had already heard from Miss Fitzpatrick what her dinner plans were. There were no secrets at Williams Aircraft. And she suspected where he would take her, probably Perino's. Nancy helped her pick out a particularly sophisticated dress, and assured Cassie that it was just the sort of thing he really liked.

“Why do you think he wants to have dinner with me?” Cassie asked worriedly. She was still wondering if he was secretly displeased with her about something. Maybe he really was annoyed that she complained about going out at night, and wanted to scold her.

“I think he wants to take you out because you're so ugly,” Nancy teased. She had begun treating Cassie like her daughter. In some ways, Cassie was still a child, not unlike Janie. In fact, Jane and Cassie had hit it off splendidly on the two occasions Nancy had invited her to dinner. She would have invited her more frequently, but Cassie never had time for a private evening. “Now go wash your face and stop worrying. He's a perfect gentleman,” He always was, no matter what he wanted, business or pleasure. Desmond Williams had a brilliant mind and impeccable manners. What he did not have was a heart, or at least, that was what women said. If he did, no one had found it yet. But Nancy knew it was not Cassie's heart Desmond wanted. He wanted her loyalty, and her life, her mind, her judgment about planes, and her courage. It was what he wanted from everyone. He wanted everything, except what was really important. And in return, he would take care of her, in the ways he understood, with contracts and money.

Cassie was ready right on time, and he appeared downstairs in a brand-new Packard. He was a man who liked machines, and he had bought every exciting car there was to own, at one time or another. The Zephyr she'd seen him in back home had already been shipped to California.

She was wearing a slinky black dress Nancy had picked out for her, and black silk stockings and black satin platform shoes that made her look even taller. But he was still taller than she was, and her figure looked fabulous in the black dress. Her hair was piled high on her head in loose curls, and in the month since she'd been in LA she had learned to do her makeup to perfection.

“Wow! If I do say so myself,” Desmond beamed at her, as they headed toward the city, “that's quite an outfit.”

“I was going to wear my overalls,” she grinned mischievously, “but Nancy sent them to the cleaners.”

“I can't say I'm disappointed,” he teased back. They chatted easily all the way into town, about a new plane she knew he was designing. There were questions she had about the fuselage, and her queries about the design, as usual, impressed him deeply.

“How did you ever get to know so much about planes, Cass?”

“I just love them a lot. You know, like dolls, for some kids. I've just played with planes all my life. I put my first engine back together when I was nine. I've been doing it since I was a little kid. My father put me to work when I was five, but then he had a fit when I learned to fly. Engines were okay, but flying was for guys, not for women.”

“It's hard to believe.” He looked amused. To him, it sounded like the dark ages.

“I know.” She grinned, thinking fondly of her father. “He's an adorable old dinosaur and I love him. He threw your card away that day, you know. The first time you came to the airport.”

“I thought he'd do something like that, he and his partner. That's why I came back.” He glanced over at her as they reached LA “I'm glad I did. When I think what I would have missed. What this country would have lost. It would have been a tragedy.” He made it sound very dramatic, and she laughed. What he said was very frightening, but it always sounded like nonsense to Cassie. She knew her own worth, or she thought she did. She was a pretty good pilot, but she wasn't the oracle he pretended she was, or the genius… or the beauty… but Americans were already beginning to know different. They agreed with Desmond Williams.