Silver Serenade

by Gerry O'Hara

  “I don’t know if I can clear my desk on such short notice.”

  “We won’t be gone long, and if it guarantees a satisfied client, I would think that would make your decision easy. I’ll throw in some sightseeing to make the offer more attractive. My place is near Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona’s ‘little Grand Canyon.’ It’s the next best thing to the big one. The foliage is spectacular right now.”

  “I’ve never been to Arizona…”

  “Then here’s your chance. The rimrock at sunset is impressive, so don’t forget to pack a camera.”

  “Slow down! I can’t leave the rest of my cases in limbo on a whim.”

  “A whim? You agreed to work on the Parker case. Surely that includes on-site consultations with the clients.”

  “Yes, but there’s nothing to be gained in my going. My report makes it clear that both letters were written by the same person: Elliot Parker.”

  “There’s Margo to consider,” he continued. “Her pregnancy has made her sensitive. She will appreciate having the outcome of your report reinforced by your own words, from your own lovely mouth.”

  “Oh, Cash, you’re impossible.”

  “If you’re uncomfortable about accommodations, I can arrange to have my part-time housekeeper remain overnight. I wouldn’t want you to lose sleep over the fear of being ravished.”

  Christie laughed. “All right. But I have the feeling that you knew I’d give in if you badgered me long enough.”

  In response a wide grin spread across Cash’s face. Pleased or devilish? she wondered. A little voice in her head warned that not even a resident duenna could assure her safety in the situation ahead. Anxiety and exhilaration filled her with the same tension she experienced when contemplating a black-diamond ski run. There was a subtle difference, however: if she tumbled down a snow-covered mountain, she only risked a fractured bone. If she fell for Cash McCullough, she could wind up with a broken heart.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Beechcraft Baron taxied down the runway at San Francisco Airport. Sitting in the cocoon-like cockpit of a private plane was far removed from the movie-theater ambience of a jumbo jet. The steady rumble of the wheels beneath Christie’s feet as the plane hurtled across the tarmac placed her in an intimate relationship with the business of flying.

  She watched the ailerons flutter as the plane gathered speed, readying for liftoff. The cabin vibrated as the Beechcraft nosed upward at a seemingly impossible angle, and the breath caught in her throat. Her fingers clutched the armrests so tightly her knuckles turned white. Climbing steadily, they left San Francisco’s skyline far below. Carving an arc over the bay, the plane headed south, gaining altitude with every minute.

  Christie’s tenacious grip on the seat loosened when the plane leveled out at cruising altitude. Cash glanced at her.

  “Hey, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

  “Well…this is the first time I’ve flown in a private plane. It’s a bit scary. Wouldn’t it be simpler to take a commercial flight?”

  “Heck, no. When I want to go someplace, it has to be right away, not on Cozy Craft Airlines’ schedule.”

  “But think of all the work you could accomplish if you left the driving to a pro,” she countered.

  “Are you criticizing my ability to fly this baby? I’m considered a first-rate pilot in some circles. Besides, paperwork is the bane of a creative mind. At twenty thousand feet above the ground, there is little to interfere with my thought process. I often capture an elusive or forgotten facet of defense strategy cruising through the clouds. Besides, it’s fun.” He smiled at her. “It’s good for the soul.”

  She did not doubt his enjoyment. She only wished she shared his enthusiasm.

  Cash’s attention became fixed on the endless blue corridor. A shaft of sunlight pierced a cloud bank above the jet and split into a medley of cinnamon rays that transformed the puffs below into cotton candy. It was like being in the center of a kaleidoscope, and Christie was lulled into relaxation by the swirling fantasy atmosphere.

  She was beginning to understand why he preferred flying in a small plane. Commercial airlines offered a means of getting to a destination. The Beechcraft was all about the journey. The hum of the props was a soothing chant that eventually cleared her mind of anxieties.

  Cash’s shoulders shifted up and down in an exaggerated shrug. “Do me a favor, Christie? My neck and shoulders are knotted. Would you massage them for a few minutes? I’ll put the plane on automatic pilot.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest in an unconscious attitude of self-protection. To refuse would be petty. She fumbled with the seat belt and stood up slowly, hesitantly. Each measured step was a delaying tactic, deliberately putting off physical contact.

  She stood behind him and placed her hands at the base of his neck. His skin was warm beneath her fingers. She kneaded the taut muscles, feeling his heartbeat increase in tempo as her fingers walked along his neck and shoulders.

  “Grrreat,” he growled.

  Encouraged, she traced the angles of his shoulders, pressing her fingers into each groove and rubbing her thumbs across the rounded rise. There was strength here. Leaning against him slightly, she flattened her hands across his collarbone and took in the feel of his skin against her palms. She shook herself. Enough. She was enjoying this little exercise too much. She stepped back.

  “How was that?” She hoped he caught the inflection in her voice that indicated the massage was over.

  “Much better. You’re a regular wizard; there’s magic in those hands.”

  “You mean sorceress.”

  “What?”

  “Wizard is masculine. Sorceress is feminine.”

  “How could I have confused your gender?”

  “Behave yourself.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong yet.”

  “You’re thinking it. Naughty vibrations were burning my fingertips. You were definitely not focused on flying.”

  “I had more entertaining things on my mind. Would you rather have a boring companion with soda-bottle glasses and tunnel vision?”

  “No, but I’d be a lot more comfortable—and safe. How long before we reach Sedona?”

  “We’re due to land at seven. It will still be light out and you’ll see firsthand that the area lives up to its scenic reputation.”

  “If it’s so beautiful, why did you move to California?”

  “I attended law school at Stanford, got my degree and never left. I bought Serenade after my first year in practice—that was six years ago—and made it my home.”

  Christie perceived wistfulness in his voice. “Are you content with being a part-time resident of Arizona?”

  “It doesn’t take long to become a native Californian. Especially when you have an affinity for water. I get edgy if I can’t smell the sea, so California is a perfect fit. When I want the desert, I hop on board the Beechcraft and in a few hours I’m in Sedona.”

  “And the rest of your family?”

  “San Diego area. My brother-in-law is in corporate sales for a hotel chain. About five years ago, he accepted a job transfer to San Diego and he and my sister, Jane, and the kids settled in La Jolla. Soon after, my parents settled into a retirement community nearby. We usually get together once a month; there’s always a holiday or birthday to celebrate. Mine’s coming up soon—I’ll be thirty-two.”

  She wouldn’t reach the big three-oh for two more years.

  Chalk up another point in his favor: it didn’t sound like he had heavy baggage in his past. He had sailed with his father, and spoke well of his mother and sister. Her own parents lived in Reno, and it lifted her spirits whenever they got together.

  An hour and a half later, Cash radioed air control, alerted them to his position, and requested permission to land. Minutes later the Beechcraft began its descent.

  “Cash! We’re still in the mountains. We’ll crash.”

  “No, we won’t. The landing strip is on the top of the canyon. Don’t worr
y, taking this baby down is a piece of cake.”

  Butterflies swarmed in Christie’s stomach and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. She clutched the armrests and tried to convince herself that there was no reason for fear. Cash was an experienced pilot and he flew into this airport regularly.

  The earth was coming at them too fast for her inner dialogue to be persuasive. She tried to force her eyes shut, to push the scene out of her mind, but failed. Her eyes flew open, and the ground continued to hurtle toward them.

  “Cash, the runway is so short. The canyon…” There was no room for miscalculation. If they overshot the runway, the plane would plunge over a precipice.

  “Relax; there’s plenty of room.”

  “Relax? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Every muscle in her body was taut as she leaned forward, mesmerized by the dramatic approach to the landing strip. Cash lowered the landing gear and the plane nosed toward the tarmac. Just before landing, he gently eased the nose upward a few degrees. The wheels bumped the ground. The plane lifted slightly, then touched down again and sped across the runway. He reversed throttle and the plane reluctantly slowed, engines grinding, cockpit trembling.

  When they finally grumbled to a lazy roll, Cash maneuvered off the runway.

  “Welcome to Sedona.”

  Christie’s hands were shaking so hard she could not release her seat belt.

  “Let me help you.”

  Cash reached to unbuckle her. His face was close to hers and his breath lay across her throat. She fumbled with the buckle again, but finally gave in to his assistance. She stood on unsteady legs, as though she had just climbed out of the saddle after a long horseback ride.

  “That was quite an experience,” she said.

  “You get used to it. My first solo was from this airport.”

  “That took guts.”

  “Looking back, I think it bordered on insanity to practice touch-and-go exercises from this piece of rimrock. But what does a kid know?”

  Cash opened the cockpit door and dropped the stairs. They stepped to the ground and he secured the wheels with blocks. A twin of his SUV was parked at the edge of the field. Cash stowed their overnight bags inside.

  “How did you arrange this?” she asked.

  “I call ahead and my housekeeper and her husband drop the Jeep off. You wouldn’t want to walk all the way to my hacienda, would you?”

  “After that plane ride, I’m lucky my legs carried me to the Jeep.” She slid across the passenger seat while Cash got behind the steering wheel.

  Along the road, butter-yellow flowers grew thickly beneath the muted green that crowned the twisted gray trunks of sycamores. The arms of prickly cactus were angled in a pose resembling a traffic cop directing cars at an intersection. The rimrock, etched in horizontal gradations of red, contrasted sharply with the cool colors. In the brilliant sunset the sky was streaked with vermilion.

  There was a soothing quality to the scenery, and by the time they turned into Cash’s driveway, Christie’s anxieties had slipped away. Cash managed their duffel bags and pushed open a wrought-iron gate. He stepped aside for her to enter the courtyard.

  The sprawling Spanish-style architecture hinted at hidden patios and cloistered gardens. Within the low adobe wall was an oasis of ginger hibiscus and cascading flames of fuchsia blossoms. A tangle of crimson bougainvillea clung to the oval at the recessed entry.

  Inside, the rooms flowed with an openness that provided an illusion of space to surpass the already abundant dimensions. The walls were thick and Christie surmised that they were designed for insulation. The light fixtures were constructed of heavy wrought iron, curved and fluted in a traditional Spanish motif. Beveled-glass French doors opened the rooms to a courtyard garden with a rock-rimmed pool and spa.

  “This is beautiful.” Christie could not eliminate the awe from her voice. “There’s a sense of comfort and efficiency…and earthiness. Your home is definitely a personal statement. I’ll bet you return to your practice renewed after a weekend here.”

  Cash took her hand. “You’re very perceptive. Few people understand that efficient does not automatically equate to ugly. I crave simplicity because I don’t have time to deal with clutter.”

  She wondered where the promised housekeeper was hiding. She was beginning to suspect that mentioning her had been a ploy to convince her to accompany him to Arizona. However, only regular attention to house and garden explained their well-tended appearance.

  “Where’s the guardian of chaste morals?” she asked.

  “Is that why you appear tense? You’re not afraid of me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. But this was billed as a business trip, and there is the matter of a housekeeper.”

  “You think I made that up?”

  “No, of course not. I’m still feeling the effects of the plane ride, but I would be more comfortable if the duenna was onstage. Wave a magic wand, rub Aladdin’s lamp, or do whatever is necessary to conjure her appearance. Then let’s get on with our reason for being here.”

  “You sure do cut to the chase. I’ll speak to Maria immediately. I’m sure she is anxious to meet you, too.”

  Knowing that a third party would be on the premises had a calming effect. Until she knew more about him, and what his values were, it was wise to be cautious. But she recognized that it was a bit late for that line of thinking. Flying to Arizona with him and being put up in his personal domain had not been exactly a cautious move on her part.

  She heard his voice in conversation with a woman speaking rapid Spanish. She could not understand what either was saying, but the conversation suddenly halted. Cash’s footsteps were heavy on the terrazzo as he returned to the living room.

  “My housekeeper sends her regrets; she can’t stay overnight.” He lifted his hand, palm outward, as if to ward off further verbal assault. “I know what you are thinking, but you’re wrong. I honestly believed I could rely on Maria to stay for the weekend. Problem is, her husband seems to harbor old-fashioned ideas about a woman’s place being in the home. His. I tried to change her mind, but she threatened to quit.”

  It seemed obvious that he had tried to cajole his housekeeper, but Christie was nagged by the thought that since she did not understand Spanish, she only had his word that the conversation concerned Maria’s refusal to stay. It was difficult to comprehend that this masterful persuader of juries could not convince one stubborn woman, but she would give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Come on, I’ll show you to your room and give Maria a chance to cool off before she serves dinner.”

  The guest room was lovely; the soft-green decor a refreshing antidote to the mustard hues of the desert. Cash deposited her duffel on a chair.

  “Maria has promised one of her finest creations as a peace offering. You have twenty minutes to freshen up.”

  Twenty minutes later she joined Cash on the patio. Tiny colored lanterns cast a festive glow across the flagstone. A recessed light illuminated the pool, and the surface of the water quivered in the warm breeze. In the fading sunlight, a flowered umbrella that provided daytime shade was a charming prop to a round, glass-topped table.

  Maria glided onto the patio, carrying a pair of steaming plates. Cash introduced her to Christie. “I hope you enjoy your visit,” she said. She waved a finger at Cash. “Mr. Cash, you will behave yourself, no?” Her tone was somber, but her eyes twinkled with laughter. She placed their dinners on bright-red place mats and left.

  Cash poured wine into their glasses. Christie tasted her food. The mildly spiced chicken chunks and sautéed vegetables were delicious.

  “Maria is an excellent cook,” she said.

  “Her family owned a café in town, and Maria learned cooking at her mother’s knee. After they sold the business, Maria took this job. I’m very fortunate to have her.”

  They savored the food in comfortable silence. Christie could not help noticing that Cash looked boyishly attractive in a hand-embroidered Mex
ican wedding shirt. He blended with the Spanish setting as though he had been born to it.

  “That’s a good-looking shirt.”

  “Thanks. Maria made it for me in one of her more charitable moments. Wishful thinking on her part, perhaps. She never stops chattering at me that I should settle down and get married.”

  “And?”

  “I haven’t had time to find a candidate.” He grinned boyishly. “Unless you’re volunteering?”

  Christie held her hands up in a truce gesture. “Don’t look to me for salvation. I haven’t had a spare moment to get my own social life in full swing.”

  “I guess I’m destined to remain a wallflower.”

  “Poor darling.”

  Cash reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “I like the darling bit. If we can continue in that vein, I’ll overlook your previous ungraciousness.”

  “Me? Ungracious? You have some nerve!” she teased back. “You misrepresent your intentions, then expect me to beg forgiveness? Perhaps I’d do well to see if Maria and her husband can put me up for the night.”

  “About Maria.” His expression turned serious. “It was thoughtless on my part to promise she would stay at the hacienda before checking with her. And I wish I could guarantee that I won’t be thinking of you as more than a business associate. I’m only human, and you’re an extremely attractive woman. I’m not going to pretend I won’t be tempted to try and romance you.”

  Christie took a deep breath. “Your directness is more difficult to deal with than an unexpected pass. If you came on too strong, I could slap your face or cut you down with a few harsh words. Now I’m at a disadvantage. If I become agitated at your conduct, you can say that I was forewarned, and what did I expect?”

  “It’s going to be a long weekend if you keep putting me off.”

  “It will be longer if we continue this flirtation.”

  “Remember our truce? Surely that qualifies for a kiss and making up.” Cash stood and drew her from her chair. He cupped her chin and tilted her face upward. Her breath caught in her throat. Everything she had said meant nothing now. Pinpricks marched across her skin and her eyelids fluttered, then closed. She waited to feel his mouth on hers.