by Kathryn Shay
“Oh, I understand very well.”
The truth dawned on her as she studied him. “You’re being inflexible about this because of your own relationship with your father.”
He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Maybe I am. As you say, we’re all a product of our pasts. But whatever the reason, I refuse to fade into the background of your life until you decide it’s safe to come out of the closet and tell Daddy about us—until others won’t question why I’d want to make love to you.”
“Why do you make my plan sound so seedy?”
“Because it is.”
“Can’t we compromise?”
“I never compromise.”
“Spence, please. It’s only for a little while.” She stepped closer and reached out a hand that he ignored. “I care about you.”
“I care about you too, Lexy.”
“I’ve never told another soul about what really happened with Greg. Not even Portia.”
A muscle leaped in Spence’s jaw but he didn’t say anything.
“You won’t bend on this, will you?”
He shook his head.
She shook hers. “I can’t believe it,” she muttered, then turned and left him alone.
o0o
A WEEK AFTER HER last sleepover with Max, Jamie let the cottage door bang shut behind her. It echoed through the stillness of Sunday morning like a gunshot in the woods. “Well, excuse me!” she shouted over her shoulder. She stepped out onto the deck, oblivious of the warm summer air, the crystalline sky, the soft chirp of the birds. Stalking down to the dock, she marched right to the edge and plopped down, sinking her feet in the water. Though she was in her navy and neon-yellow bathing suit with its matching net cover-up, she didn’t dare go in the water without a buddy. Staring up into the sky, she searched for fairy land or medieval castles, but they weren’t there. Hell, even the ducks had deserted her.
Another door slammed, down the lake. A deep male voice rumbled, and heavy footsteps plodded down somebody else’s deck. Then they stopped. She didn’t look over; she didn’t want to see who was out at the McPhersons’ or the Keagans’.
She was mad!
Throwing her arm over her eyes to block out the freakin’ sun, she lay down on the dock, holding perfectly still, hoping to go unnoticed or to ward off conversation.
After a few minutes she heard, “Hi, squirt.”
The nickname turned up the corners of her mouth, despite her foul mood. She squinted up at the man above her. “Hi, Jeff.”
“Want some company?”
“I’m in a pretty bad mood.”
“Join the club.”
Kicking off his shoes, he plunked down beside her and dipped his feet in the water. He looked cool, dressed in army green cargo shorts and a green and white shirt. Neither spoke for a while. “What’s got your jocks in a twist?” she finally asked.
He snorted and angled his head toward Keag’s cottage. “My father’s been acting like a cross between Godzilla and the Phantom of the Opera.” Disgust laced his voice.
Interested, Jamie sat up. “Yeah, well I bet he can’t compete with the Wicked Witch of the West I’ve been living with for the past week.”
Jeff removed his sunglasses and challenged her. “Wanna bet?”
She nodded. “Yeah.” Her spirits brightened. “You take me out waterskiing if I’ve got it worse.”
He chuckled. “What’ll you do for me?”
“Clean your boat?” She nodded to his sleek KeagCraft, docked about thirty feet away at his dad’s. Even from here she could see it was littered with empty cans and crumpled napkins and newspapers. “Did you have a wild party on there last night, Baywatch guy?”
“None of your business.” He ruffled her hair.
It felt good. Brotherly. Curious, she asked, “How old are you, Jeff?”
“Twenty-four.”
“You got a girlfriend?”
“Nah. No one special. The curse of the Keagan men.”
“Really? Geez, I read this Mary Higgins Clark book about a curse on a family. It was really wild.”
Jeff smiled. “What’s your old lady been doing?”
Raising her eyes to the sky, Jamie scowled. “Ever since last week she’s been moping around the house. She won’t smile, and when she thinks I’m busy, she runs straight to her computer and works.”
“Works? I thought you guys were on vacation.”
“We are. But Mom always works when she’s upset. Pretty lame, huh? Playing second fiddle to a business?”
“What’s she upset about?”
“I don’t know. I heard her and Portia talking late one night. She wouldn’t even tell Porsche what’s been bothering her.”
“That all?”
“No, we went to see the new Brad Pitt flick Tuesday night and she was Oscar the Grouch afterwards. We saw your dad there, by the way, with some pretty lady.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Jeff?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t really mind her bad mood. I...she’s been popping the pills like candy again.”
“Pills? What do you mean?”
“My mother has an ulcer. That’s why we came down to the lake for the summer. She had a mega-bad attack and was in the hospital.” The image of her mother, white-faced and moaning, made Jamie’s throat clog. “I’m worried she’ll have another attack.”
Reaching out, Jeff slid his arm around her and hugged her close. “Sorry, Jame. I wish I could help.”
She leaned into him for a minute—he felt safe. Then she sniffled and pulled away. “What’s going on with Keag?”
Jeff stared down at the young kid, who somehow had become special to him over the past few weeks. “Same stuff. Last Sunday, he took off for a few days on the boat without telling anybody where he was going.”
“He do that a lot?”
“Only when he’s upset big-time.” In the past, it had been mostly over fights with Judd. To Jeff s knowledge, though, they’d been getting along all right; his dad had even come to dinner with them on Father’s Day. “And he’s reading like crazy—as if he’s just been cured of blindness. He does that too, when he’s down.”
“Maybe he had a fight with his girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?”
“The one we saw him with at the movie.”
“I’ve never known a woman to affect my father enough for him to pout about her.”
“Just like Mom.”
They were both silent. Slowly she raised her head to look at Jeff. He peered down at her. Her eyes narrowed. So did his.
“You think...you think they...” she asked.
“Nah, they don’t even like each other.” But even as Jeff denied it, he pictured his dad at the Balloon Festival...touching Alexis Castle’s shoulders when he showed her how to throw the softball, tugging her up from the blanket, and then, on the Ferris wheel, though it was dark, he could have sworn they were cuddling.
“Damn,” he said aloud.
“What?”
The bet forgotten with this new information, Jeff shook his head. “I wouldn’t have believed it, squirt, but maybe, just maybe something’s going on between them.”
Jamie stared at Jeff, then beamed him a smile. “Yeah? You think maybe we got a chance of being the Brady Bunch?”
o0o
ALEXIS PRESSED HER hand to her stomach and groaned. The pain was back in full force, burning its way through tender tissue. Well, it was her own damn fault. First, she’d allowed that man to upset her with his ultimatums and his accusations. Then, she’d stewed about it for days, like a stupid, simpering female. Plain and simple, the stress had caused her stomach to rebel.
In reaction to her horrific mood, her daughter had turned into The Bad Seed, becoming increasingly rude and obnoxious. Alexis was grateful Portia had offered to take Jamie away this weekend for the Renaissance Festival in Rochester. The annual event transformed acres of land into the Elizabe
than Era, complete with jousters, strolling actors in period costumes, food and craft booths and daily shows.
Portia had arrived this morning to get Jamie, but dragged Alexis out on the deck before she left. “Honey, I don’t know what’s bothering you but whatever it is, you need to deal with it. You look sick again.”
“I’m fine. Jamie’s wearing me down, is all. It’ll be nice to have a weekend alone. I’ll rest and feel better.”
“I’m not happy about leaving you like this. If something goes wrong, promise me you’ll call Keag.”
“Keag?”
“Yeah, he’s not working. He should be around unless he takes off on his boat.”
As he’d done earlier in the week. He’d been gone two days, two hours and...oh, damn, that wasn’t getting her anywhere. She’d promised Portia, “If I need anything, I’ll get help.”
There was no way she was going to call Keag. Besides, he might not be around even if his boat was there. The image of him, snuggled up to Nancy Anderson at the movie theater the other night, gnawed at her as badly as her ulcer. And made her just as ill.
Dismissing the image, Alexis dressed and left the house to drive to Guardian. Weeks ago, she and Grant had planned a simulated flight for her to experience how a real rescue might occur. She couldn’t go up on an actual flight because FCC regulations forbade anyone without medical training to accompany the crew. Guardian’s sister plane in Syracuse would be covering any emergency calls for their helicopter in the next two hours. At least Spence wasn’t working today. Another pilot—Jack Smith, would take her up.
Now, she fidgeted in Grant’s office, waiting for the crew to prepare. Geared up in a navy flight suit, she fiddled with the zipper. How many times had she admired Spence in a similar outfit—the play of muscles across his chest and the breath of his shoulders underneath the straining navy cotton? She could still remember the feel of those shoulders, those rippling muscles beneath her hands when they’d kissed that morning.
Staring down at her coffee, she frowned. She shouldn’t be drinking caffeine. She’d become negligent with her diet this last week and it showed. But she’d taken a motion sickness pill and didn’t want to fall asleep in the craft. Standing, she tossed the half-filled cup into the trash and sauntered over to the window. She needed to finish the project, she decided. The audit should be completed soon, and the rest of the analysis she could do at home. It would feel good to walk out that door at the end of August and never come back. Good to leave the lake and never have to run into Spence and his girlfriend again.
“Alexis?”
She pivoted to see Betty in the doorway. “Are you all right?”
Alexis smiled, and nodded. People around here were so solicitous. When was the last time one of her corporate assistants asked how she was feeling? They wouldn’t dare.
“I’m fine,” she replied.
“You look a little peaked.”
Raising her hand to her cheek, she said, “I haven’t slept well.” Or eaten well. Or acted very sanely, either. It was time to get a grip. She smiled again, weakly.
“You sure you want to do this today?”
“Yes, of course. We’ve been planning it for a long time. I’m fine.”
Betty leaned against the doorjamb. “What’d you think of Jenna this week?”
Briefly, Alexis closed her eyes. She hadn’t been able to resist watching that damn soap, even after her fight with Spence. Even with the irony of the story line. Even though, every day, Jenna looked more and more like Nancy Anderson. “I think she’s foolish to stop seeing Ray.”
“Me, too. The guys don’t though. Jim says they’re oil and water and they’d never make it anyway.”
Don’t ask. “Oh? What did Spence say?”
“Keag is really angry with her. He wouldn’t even watch the show one day. He stormed out mumbling that all women were alike, or some such thing. No one knew what he was going on about.”
I do.
“Well, gotta go. Have a nice flight.”
“I will.” When Betty turned to leave, Alexis called after her. “Betty? I won’t be here much more this summer. Maybe once or twice. I wanted to thank you for making me feel so welcome.”
“We liked having you around.” She gave Alexis a knowing look. “And it wasn’t just for the money.”
“No?”
“Nah. We’ll get that second helicopter somehow.” She cocked her head. “You’re a nice woman, Alexis. Everybody thinks so. I’ll be sorry to see you go.”
Evan Redman bumped into Betty as she was leaving. “We’re ready to take off, Alexis.”
Smoothing down her flight suit, Alexis gave him a fake smile and followed him out.
Let’s get this over with; I can’t wait to forget all about Guardian Flight Base.
Liar.
o0o
SPENCE HAD FELT like spitting nails most of the week, and was just as ornery now. In the cockpit, he scanned the crystal blue horizon. He could still see Alexis, chin raised, face flushed, asking—no, demanding—that he wait a month to touch her. His hand curled into a fist. Damn it, she had more gall than a fighter pilot. Spence wouldn’t be put on the back burner for anybody, he wouldn’t allow his integrity to be questioned and he wouldn’t be sandwiched into anybody’s timetable. Not his father’s and certainly never a woman’s.
As he checked the controls a second time, he forced her from his mind. He’d done it successfully all week.
Oh, sure, buddy, so why’d you stalk out of Nancy’s house after the movie? ‘Cause when you kissed her, all you could think about was Alexis Castle. He couldn’t make love to one woman when his body was on fire for another. And it rankled him big time. He hadn’t been intimate with a woman since Miss Alexis paraded in here weeks ago.
A thought surfaced in his mind, as it had frequently over the last few days. Would it have killed you to wait? Given her past, didn’t her worries make sense? You could have been together at the end of the summer.
Sometimes he actually considered waiting for her and when he did, the anticipation spiked his temperature like heated mercury on a hot day. Damn. He didn’t want to think about that stubborn-as-a-mule woman.
If he could just get through this flight, he’d be fine. Spence had pumped Grant and found out Miss Alexis’s visits to the base were numbered. She was waiting for the audit and then she’d be gone. By Labor Day, she’d be a dim memory.
But right now she was all flesh and blood as she sauntered up to the aircraft. She stopped abruptly when she saw him. “What are you doing here?” she asked, bluntly.
God, she looked like hell, reminding him of when she had first come to the lake. Her face was pale and there were smudges underneath her eyes. The thought came to him again, Would it have killed you? “I work here,” he said carelessly. “I’m sure you remember that, Miss Alexis.”
“You’re off this week.”
“Yeah, but Grant roped me into runnin’ this flight. You’re VIP, honey, and you’re entitled to the best.”
Evan scowled at him and boosted Alexis into the cockpit. When the man reached over to secure the seat belts, Spence’s blood pressure skyrocketed. “I’ll do it, Redman. Back off.” Leaning across Alexis, Spence slammed the door in Evan’s face. Over Spence’s dead body was another man gonna touch his woman.
He tried to do up the belts quickly. But the scent of her, flowery and feminine, filled his nostrils and reminded him of how he’d nuzzled her hair the other morning, how he had tasted her skin. As he fumbled with the straps, she drew in a deep breath. The action strained her breasts against her flight suit, and his body responded. Those breasts were about the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, ever touched. He was so close— the zipper was near level with his cheek—that smattering of freckles on her chest teased his eyeballs. He wondered crazily if what she had on underneath was as sexy as that satin outfit she’d worn when she fixed him breakfast. She had practically made him pant like a dog.
Would it have killed you?
>
When he drew back, she expelled a heavy breath and raised her eyes to his. Her hair was back in a tidy knot today, but it only made her look more vulnerable. Still close, he stared at her face. “You all right?”
She nodded.
He tilted up her chin. “You look sick. Did you take a motion sickness pill?”
“Of course.” She seared him with an angry look. “Don’t pretend you care, Keag. It’ll ruin your macho image.”
That burned him up. “I just don’t want you throwin’ up all over me, Miss Alexis.”
Jamming on the headset, he did his best to ignore her as he lifted off. They were in the air before he asked, “Did they tell you what we’re doing?”
She nodded. “Meeting an ambulance crew and fire truck at the south end of the thruway.”
“Yeah, a local unit set it up with off-duty personnel. They’ve even staged a fake accident so you can see how we’d function. One of the ground crew will act as the flight paramedic since we didn’t want to take too many people out of service.”
She nodded. When she didn’t say anymore, he stared ahead and tried to concentrate on how much he liked to fly. How much he loved his job. How calm his life had been before she came into it. And would be again as soon as she left.
Would it have killed you?
Veering right, the ship dipped as an unexpected gust of wind caught the tail. He heard her gasp. When he glanced over, he saw her hand clapped on her mouth.
“Spence, I...I’m sorry...the jostling...”
A quick reach behind her, and he handed her an airsickness bag.
She vomited into it. A lot.
A few minutes later, the wind rocked them a second time.
“Ohh...” She was sick again.
He remembered a line from e.e. cummings...“nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility.” Shit!
Below him spanned an empty field. He recognized it. He’d landed there twice—no power lines, stumps, nothing dangerous. Into the headset, he barked, “Aircraft GB1 to flight base. I’m making an unexpected landing. Our guest is ill. Call the ground crew to tell them we’ll be delayed.
After relaying his coordinates, Spence landed the ship as gently as possible. When they touched down, then stopped, he shut off the motor and vaulted out of the cockpit. He dragged a bag and a blanket out of the back, which he spread on the ground, then circled around the side. He jerked open the door and was alarmed by the pallor of her face. Unsnapping the belts, he slid his hands under her and eased her out.