“Maggie, this is Alex Rand, my pilot.” Chance kept his arm around Maggie’s shoulders as he said, “Alex, Maggie Fuller.”
“Hi, Maggie.” Tanned and fit with prematurely silver hair, the pilot offered his hand. “Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you.” Her mind was still whirling from the limousine ride out to the airstrip.
Now the sight of the gleaming jet with its engines idling, and the eager crew standing at the foot of the stairs, had her feeling more than a little breathless.
Chance turned to a boyish-looking redhead with blue eyes glinting with humor. “This is Jimmy Cormeyer, our backup pilot.”
“Hello, Maggie.” He offered a firm handshake.
“And this is Frank Truscott, our navigator.”
Dazed, all Maggie could do was smile and nod at the stocky man as Chance led her up the steps and inside the plane.
“You didn’t tell me we were flying.”
He paused. “I hope you aren’t afraid to fly?”
She shook her head.
“Good. That’s a relief.”
“But how did they have the plane ready on such short notice?”
“Because I was about to fly out on a quick business trip. But this is even better. I’d much rather combine business with pleasure. Now, quit asking so many questions and make yourself comfortable.”
The interior wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. There were no rows of seats. No baggage compartments overhead. The main cabin was laid out like a comfortable sitting room with half a dozen leather recliners arranged in a semi-circle.
“What’s back there?” She nodded toward the closed door.
“Bedroom and bathroom. Come on. I’ll show you.”
He led the way to a luxurious bedroom, complete with a king-size bed. The bathroom had gold fixtures, and was even equipped with a shower.
“This is yours?” She couldn’t seem to take it all in.
He nodded. “WildeOil and WildeMining share the cost. Our first plane was just a puddle-jumper that Ace and Hazard and I used to fly from one county to the next.”
“You’re all pilots?”
At her look of amazement he laughed. “If I’d have known that would get such a reaction from you, I’d have told you weeks ago. But don’t be too impressed. Practically everybody in Wyoming has a pilot’s license. Without it, we’d never get anywhere. When Ace and I started finding ourselves out of the country as often as we were home, we realized it was time to lay out the expense of a jet, and the crew to maintain it.”
He led her back to the main compartment and indicated a chair. “Buckle up, Maggie. We’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”
“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going?”
He shook his head. “And spoil the surprise? But I will tell you it’s an easy flight. So just sit back and enjoy the next couple of hours.”
Maggie fastened her seatbelt. As Chance had promised, within minutes they were airborne.
A short time later Jimmy Cormeyer ducked in and conferred with Chance, then opened a refrigerator and produced a bottle of Dom Perignon. With a pop of the cork he filled two flutes and placed them on a silver tray, then set the opened bottle in a crystal ice bucket before disappearing into the front cabin.
Chance handed Maggie a glass, then lifted his own. “To surprises,” he said.
Maggie sipped, then sighed as it slid like liquid silver down her throat. “I wouldn’t mind if we just flew around for a few hours and landed again at the Double W. That would be enough of a surprise for me. I’m already feeling as pampered as a princess.”
Chance gave her a mysterious smile. “As a cook you can understand. This is just the appetizer. The real feast is yet to come.”
And what a feast!
Maggie recognized the Golden Gate Bridge as they flew over it, then circled the airport below.
“Chance.” Her eyes were wide. “That’s San Francisco.”
“That’s right.”
“Oh. It’s one of my favorite cities.”
“I’m glad. It’s one of mine, too.” He reached over and caught her hand as the plane landed smoothly, then rolled to a stop at the private terminal. Minutes later they were seated in a limousine, and whisked into the city.
As they rolled along Geary Street, Chance called to the driver, “We’ll stop here first.”
“Very good, sir.”
The vehicle pulled to a stop at the curb. Chance stepped out and offered his hand to Maggie. Shielding the sun from her eyes she looked up at the building and turned to him in surprise.
“You’re taking me to a spa?”
“I’m dropping you here. Since I have a little business to take care of, I want you to be somewhere relaxing.”
He led her inside and spoke with the woman behind the desk. Then he turned and brushed his lips over Maggie’s. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’m leaving you in Gerda’s capable hands. Enjoy yourself.”
When he was gone, the tall woman led Maggie to a dressing room and handed her a thick terry robe.
As Maggie undressed, Gerda offered her a menu of the services available. “Would you like to make your own choices, Miss Fuller? Or would you like to hear what Mr. Wilde suggested?”
Her curiosity got the better of her. “I guess I’m open to his suggestions first.”
“Mr. Wilde suggested that you might like a massage first, Miss Fuller. Then a facial, a manicure and pedicure. Then an appointment with Yves to have your hair trimmed and your makeup will be with François.”
Maggie couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, I think I’m going to like every single one of Mr. Wilde’s suggestions.”
Gerda joined in the laughter. “I thought you might. Shall I go ahead and schedule them?”
“By all means.”
As Maggie allowed herself to be led to the first room, she could already feel herself relaxing. She disrobed and settled herself on the massage table. The lights were dimmed and the strains of Debussy began to play softly in the background.
The woman’s hands were strong and firm as they moved over Maggie’s neck and shoulders, up and down her spine. And as she lay in a half-sleeping, half-wakeful state, all the little knots of tension began to evaporate like the mist over the bay.
For the next few hours, while she was required to do nothing more demanding than choose the color of polish for her nails, Maggie emptied her mind, and allow herself to drift on a current of contentment.
“What’s this?” With her hair softly curled, her nails a gleaming bronze, and her skin feeling as soft as a newborn’s, Maggie stepped back into the dressing room.
Instead of the denims and shirt she’d left there, she found the room filled with mysterious boxes and bags.
“Mr. Wilde said they were all yours. And he hoped everything fit.” Gerda held up a honey-colored silk dress and matching cashmere coat. “He suggested you might want to wear this tonight.”
“You’re not joking?” Maggie’s eyes warmed at the sight.
“Indeed not. And I must say, Mr. Wilde has excellent taste.” Gerda’s tone held a note of approval. “I recognize these as part of the newest collection from Armani.”
When Maggie slipped the dress over her head, she was delighted with the way the exquisite fabric glided over her body. An hour later she was wearing the dress and coat, along with little bronze strappy sandals. At her throat was a gold and amber choker, with matching earrings. There was even perfume. Something light and airy with just a hint of wildflowers.
When she walked to the foyer, Chance was waiting. In his hands was a clutch of white violets.
“Oh, Chance.” Maggie was so touched, she bent her head to the flowers to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. “I can’t tell you how wonderful I feel.”
“Not half as wonderful as you look.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and led her outside to the waiting limousine.
As she settled herself inside she turned to him. “Don’t you think al
l this…” she indicated the clothes, the shoes, the jewelry, “…is a bit much to wear while I’m cooking for you and your brothers?”
“Not at all. I’m sure I speak for Ace and Hazard when I say you’ll certainly be the most glamorous cook we’ve ever employed.”
She joined in the laughter. “Where will I possibly wear all this?”
“You’re in San Francisco, Maggie. They have some of the finest restaurants in the world here. It would be a crime to leave without trying a few.”
“A few?”
He gave her a mysterious smile. “Just sit back and enjoy. That’s an order, Miss Fuller.”
After several blocks their limousine glided to a stop. Chance caught her hand and they began threading their way among the tourists who crowded the shops and walkways at Fisherman’s Wharf.
“Have you been here before?” he asked.
Maggie nodded. “Several times. The last time, I came with my sister. We stayed at a little hotel just a few blocks from here. And every day we’d prowl all the shops and restaurants here at the wharf.”
The memory of her time spent with Eve was so vivid, she had to stop talking to swallow the lump that threatened to choke her.
Seeing it, Chance squeezed her hand and walked in silence beside her, giving her time to compose herself.
The breeze carried the tang of the ocean. It mingled with the wonderful scents of seafood from sidewalk vendors, and the unexpectedly cloying perfume of scented candles from gift shops.
Chance turned to her, loving the way her eyes seemed to reflect the colorful lights along the wharf. The breeze ruffled her hair, and had her skin glowing.
“Here we are.” He led her inside a restaurant with a wall of windows that overlooked the bay.
As soon as the owner caught sight of them, he hurried over.
“Chance Wilde. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, Tony. Too long. Tony Massari, this is Maggie Fuller.”
“Hi, Maggie.” He was a big, burly man with tousled gray hair and laugh lines deeply etched around pale blue eyes. His shirt and tie were slightly rumpled. He would have looked just as natural handling cargo on the docks as he did the menus in his big, work-worn hands.
He gave her an admiring glance. “Welcome to Massari’s, Maggie.”
“Thank you. It smells wonderful in here.”
“Garlic.” He brought his fingers to his lips. Kissed them and closed his eyes. “There is nothing like the perfume of garlic.”
“I agree. I can never have enough.”
He shot a grin at Chance. “Now this is a girl after my own heart.”
“In more ways than you know, Tony.” Chance caught her hand. “She’s the finest cook I’ve ever known.”
Tony gave her a lingering look. “We’ll have to share recipes some day.”
“I’d like that.”
With a smile he beckoned them. “Come on. I have a special table for the two of you.”
He led them through the restaurant to a secluded booth with the most amazing view of the bay.
“Thanks, Tony.” Chance looked around. “How about the menus?”
Tony shook his head and smiled. “You won’t need them. In honor of the occasion, I’ll give you something special. I’ll see to it myself.”
“What occasion?”
He merely smiled. “I’ll be back with some appetizers. What would you like to drink?”
“Something dry and red.” Chance lifted Maggie’s hand to his lips. “Merlot.”
“Coming up.”
Tony walked away, hustling towards the kichen.
“Feel like walking?” Chance caught Maggie’s hand and led her along the sidewalk, while the limousine glided along the street, keeping pace with them.
“I think we’d better. It’ll take a couple of miles to walk off all that wonderful food.”
“Yeah. Tony loves to cook.” Chance wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Ready for dinner now?”
“You must be joking!”
He shook his head. “I warned you. That was just the beginning of the evening. Now it’s time for some real food.”
He stopped in front of a small, elegant restaurant, then led her inside. As soon as the maître d’ caught sight of them, he hurried over.
“Mr. Wilde. Your table is waiting.”
“Thanks, Michael.”
They made their way to a small, raised banquette. As soon as they were seated, four servers circled the table to see to their every need.
“Champagne, Mr. Wilde?”
“Yes.” Chance watched as two flutes were filled. Then he touched his glass to Maggie’s. “To surprises.”
She smiled. Without hesitation she added, “May they always be as pleasant as these. And may we escape this fabulous city with our hearts intact.”
“Not possible. But we can try.” He sipped, then said, “What are you in the mood for?”
“Anything but steak,” she said with a laugh. “How about lobster?”
He nodded. “Lobster it is.”
While the waiters bustled about, preparing a feast, Chance and Maggie spoke in hushed tones and sipped champagne. And felt the cares of the world slip away.
It was past midnight when Maggie and Chance stepped into the cabin of the plane and fastened their seat belts.
Maggie leaned back and sighed. “This whole thing seems like a dream. A wonderful fairy tale. I still can’t believe it. The spa. These clothes. All that wonderful food.”
“I can’t believe how much you ate. In all the time you’ve worked at the Double W, I’ve never seen you eat so heartily.”
Maggie laughed. “That’s different. It’s my job. And though I love cooking, I’m not much for eating my own food. But this.” She sighed. “This was pure heaven. Those moules marinieres at Massari’s! And the garlic shrimp!”
“Yeah. Tony knows garlic.”
“I wangled the recipe from his cook. I’m going to fix them next week.”
He unfastened his seat belt and stood by the window, watching the lights of the city fall away. “How about that lobster at Stefani’s?”
She looked over at him. “I’ll never be able to think about San Francisco again without thinking about that restaurant. I don’t know when I’ve had such a meal. Champagne and lobster. And the view of the city. It was incredible.”
“Not half as amazing as the view from the top of the St. Francis.”
She sighed again. “Crème brûlée and brandy. And the best coffee in the world. I feel so incredibly lighthearted.”
Suddenly she unfastened her seat belt and crossed to him. Catching his hands in hers she said, “Chance, this has been the most amazing day. I still can’t believe we did this.”
“It was great, wasn’t it?” He stared down at their hands, then brought her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm. When he lifted his head to stare at her, she saw the hunger in his eyes. A hunger that matched her own.
“I feel the way I felt that night at the range shack, Maggie. Wanting you so badly, I’m afraid to touch you. Afraid I’ll be too rough.”
She lifted his hand to her cheek, then moved it slowly to her mouth. “I’m not fragile, Chance. I won’t break. And I want you, too. Desperately.”
Without a word he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Even before he kicked the door shut his mouth was on hers. The fire between them blazed out of control. And then his hands were on her. Touching her everywhere. They barely made it to the bed as their greedy hands and mouths found each other.
And as the plane sped through the midnight sky toward Wyoming, they lost themselves once more in the dark, silken web of passion.
Chapter 13
Maggie was humming as she planned the week’s menus. She paused, chewing on the end of the pencil.
Ace was off to Colorado and had promised to bring her some portobello mushrooms. She smiled, knowing just how she intended to use them. If Kit Korson had fresh spinach, all the better. Hazard had prom
ised to check at Korson’s Grain and Feed when he drove to Prosperous later today.
She laughed to herself, remembering how, when she’d first been offered the job at the Double W, she had scorned the thought of cooking for the three Wilde brothers. She’d expected their appetites to run to chili and overcooked burgers. What a surprise they’d had in store for her. Not only were they far more sophisticated than she’d anticipated, but their worldwide travels had given them eclectic tastes more suited to the head of some international conglomerate.
Come to think of it, she corrected herself, that’s ex actly what the Double W was. With all the businesses these men were involved in, it had become as big as any multinational corporation. Still, what amazed her most was that these three men continued to operate as a simple family unit.
Family. It was something she’d always missed. Having lost her parents so young, she’d considered herself lucky to have a sister. She and Eve had been as close as two sisters could possibly be.
And now Eve was gone.
The sudden, unexpected ache around her heart caught her by surprise. It had been hard enough to accept when she’d thought that Eve’s death had been from an undetected aneurysm. But the knowledge that she’d been murdered made the pain so much worse. Murdered by a man who had claimed to love her. A man sworn to uphold the law.
Maggie walked to the window and studied the peaceful countryside. Out here, so far from the bustling crowds of Chicago, it was hard to imagine that violence existed. Even now, if she hadn’t seen the deliberate destruction in her apartment, and hadn’t witnessed first-hand the gunman waiting for her, she still would find it hard to believe any of it. Her sister’s murder. Her brother-in-law’s involvement in it. The systematic theft from the restaurant.
And yet Chance had been willing to believe it, simply because she had said it was so. She shook her head in amazement. Would she have been as willing to believe in him, given the circumstances?
Her answer was swift and certain. She would believe in Chance. No matter what.
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