She took a sip of coffee and shrugged. "Not that it's any concern of yours."
He wrapped his hands around his mug. He spoke in a low, measured tone. "It is my concern, Andrea. You are... You were my wife. I am responsible for you, and I'm responsible for what happened to you."
She suddenly felt hot in her sweatshirt. Swallowing another sip of coffee, she stared at him. "What do you mean?"
He looked away, at the linoleum floor. "I should have been with you, Andrea, in our cabin. If I had been, you never would've wandered outside. You wouldn't have seen me with that woman, that piece of trash."
He met her gaze again. His chestnut brown eyes darkened. "It's too late now, but just to set the record straight, that woman--"
"Dahlia Meyers," Andrea supplied. Funny how the name just popped into her head.
"Yeah, her." He frowned, as if the very name was unpleasant. "She and I had a fling, a year before I met you. It didn't mean anything. I was young." He shrugged. "Dahlia was poison, so I dropped her cold."
He shrugged again. "Anyway, that night, she must've been casting her lures out to your father. I'd just joined him for a drink. I hadn't known she was in the lounge. Then your father left, and she made a play for me. After I dumped her off my lap, she told me she'd seen you in the back of the lounge. Then the alarm bells rang..."
He didn't finish.
Andrea absorbed what Wilson said...and what he didn't. His regret and apology did seem genuine.
But what did any of it matter now?
She sighed. "That's all in the past. We've each made new lives for ourselves." She gave him a smile she didn't feel and held up her coffee mug. "Here's to the present."
He clinked his mug with hers. "To the present."
He spoke so slowly, she wondered what he was really thinking.
Never mind that!
She stood to put some distance between them. "Have you told my father yet?"
"No." Wilson's warm eyes turned cloudy. "He took your disappearance hard, Andrea. He's not the same man you knew seven years ago."
Turning away, she blinked back unexpected tears.
"And frankly, I don't know the best way to tell him," Wilson added. "So, if you agree, I thought we'd leave as soon as possible, and you can tell him in person."
As soon as possible.
Andrea darted her gaze around the Lawai'a kitchen--the only place she'd ever felt loved. "How soon?"
"We're booked on a flight out of Hilo at five-thirty this evening."
"No." She hadn't imagined leaving Hawaii so soon. "I can't just leave. I have to say goodbye to everyone. To Phillip and Nathan--"
"Nathan's returning to Honolulu with us, our first stop. Thomas and his wife will meet us at the airport, so you'll have a couple of hours to spend with them. Then we head back to the States."
Wilson had everything planned out, hadn't he? Her stomach churned, and it wasn't because of hunger.
She stomped her bare foot. "I won't leave without saying goodbye to my dolphins. I've got to let them know, somehow, that I'll be back."
Wilson held out his hands in a placating manner. "It's only nine o'clock. There's plenty of time for you to go to the bay and then pack."
She was pig-headed, she knew that, but still, she protested. "I don't have any winter clothes."
He was quick to reply. "I'll buy you some at the airport shops along the way. We can look in Honolulu, and we also have a connecting flight out of Newark."
"I don't want you to buy me anything." She glared down at him.
He got out of his chair. Now she had to look up at him.
He met her gaze. "Your father will reimburse me. Does that satisfy you?"
She was far from satisfied, but she couldn't let him know it. "What about identification? I can't fly. I don't have a driver's license, or passport, or anything like that."
Wilson folded his arms across his chest. "I'm aware of that, Andrea. I talked with Mr. Lawai'a last night. He's going to help us at the airport here. Once we've checked in at Hilo, it'll be smooth sailing all the way through to Richmond."
"Hmmn." She backed away. That was a risk for Papa Lawai'a, but if she was going to see her real father, she had no choice. "So what name am I using?"
"You're booked as Andrea Struthers." He smiled for the first time this morning. "Technically it's correct, even though you're supposed to be dead."
"Swell." She trudged out of the kitchen without looking at him and went upstairs.
She didn't want to be Andrea Struthers for even one minute, let alone however long this flight would take.
But she needed to forget about that, at least for now. She had a great deal to accomplish before five-thirty's flight rolled around.
CHAPTER TEN
Will relaxed against the plush cushions of the roomy first class seat. This whole day he'd been tensed up. Last night he hadn't slept much. Now, with Andrea safely curled up beside him, he could allow himself to switch off emergency mode.
At least until they arrived in Richmond.
It hadn't taken Andrea long to fall asleep. As soon as she finished her dinner, she'd yawned. Just like a tired out kitten, she'd stretched, closed her eyes and was out.
She'd had an emotional day, he could admit that. The poignant goodbyes to all the Lawai'as and her three dolphin buddies had had tears stinging his eyes.
Once asleep, she'd immediately snuggled up to him, under a blanket, resting her head on his shoulder, her left hand on his chest. On her third finger, she wore the wedding ring they'd exchanged on that fateful day. She'd joked that since she was traveling as Mrs. Struthers, she'd better act the part.
God forgive him, and Stella forgive him, as well, but he wished with all his heart he hadn't been rash and gotten married again.
As if waiting seven years could be construed as rash.
In the darkened airplane cabin, he leaned his head against the top of Andrea's. Perhaps he could catch some shuteye.
She stirred. "Wilson, are you awake?"
He sighed. "I am now. Why don't you try to go back to sleep?"
She fidgeted in her seat. "I can't. Something's digging into my ribs."
Straightening, she moved this way and that, trying to reach her hands at some point on her back.
She looked like a Mexican jumping bean. "May I be of assistance, Andrea?"
"Yes," she whispered. "It's my bra. I can't reach behind me. Can you unhook me?"
He froze. What she was asking of him was heaven and hell, all in the same breath. "Er, you want me to--"
"Goodness, Wilson. You act like you've never unhooked a bra before." She sounded annoyed.
Never yours, he wanted to counter. Instead he put his libido on hold. "Turn around, then."
"Quickly. This thing really hurts."
When she complied, he tried to unhook the damn brassiere through the material of her sweatshirt.
It wasn't cooperating.
"Don't be stupid," she hissed. "Stick your hands up my shirt."
Good God, was she serious? Every bone in his body hardened, especially the most important one. As fast as was possible, he thrust both hands up her back and tried not to linger. Tried not to feel, not to think about her warm, velvety skin.
Swallowing his discomfort, he found the fastenings and clumsily unhooked them.
"Okay, done." His breathing rate had increased two hundred percent.
"Oh, that feels better." She twitched about under the blanket.
His imagination ran wild on what, exactly, she was doing. Half-turning away from her, he muttered, "Don't ask me to do that again."
"Why would I want to? Only have one bra on. But not anymore." She produced the undergarment and held it in front of his face. "What should I do with this?"
Her bra was imbued with her own special aroma. He couldn't help but inhale pure, sweet Andrea.
He groaned. This woman was surely going to be the death of him.
In his haste to have her get rid of the tempting arti
cle, he jerked out his hand, inadvertently touching the soft cup, warm from her breasts. "Jesus, Andrea, just put the damned thing in your handbag."
"Keep your voice down, Wilson," she warned. "People are trying to sleep."
He concentrated on steadying his breathing and loosened his tie. Clearly, he wasn't meant to be one of those people.
After she wiggled her enticing bottom as she leaned over to stash the fragrant garment in her handbag, she settled back against him.
"Thank you." She sighed. "Now I feel completely comfortable."
He was feeling the complete opposite. He itched to kiss her...and more.
Again, God forgive me.
"I'm so glad I've outgrown my nausea." She sighed once again. "Wilson, do you remember how green I turned on the flight to Hawaii?"
"I do." He almost bit his lip. I do brought back memories of wedding vows. Of the first time... And the second.
"I've probably outgrown a lot of things," she murmured drowsily against the crook of his neck.
Her breathing slowed, then steadied. She'd finally fallen back asleep.
Wilson closed his eyes, too, but sleep was out of the question for him. Over the years there had been many things he'd outgrown. His burgeoning desire for Andrea was obviously not one of them.
* * * *
Andrea only pretended to sleep. In truth, she was nervous. Overwhelmingly nervous about what awaited her in Richmond. About finally facing her father and her future. Right here, right now, she was completely comfortable. So close to Wilson, hearing him breathe, smelling his masculine aroma, feeling the inviting warmth of his neck against her forehead.
She had an inappropriate urge to giggle. Instead, she squirmed closer to him. She was leading the poor man on a merry dance. How unkind of her.
The expression on his face when she'd asked him to unhook her bra had been hilarious. He was attracted to her. He even wanted her--in a sexual way. But Wilson was an honorable man. A married man. A much married man.
A sigh escaped her lips. Did he really love his new wife so much? Why couldn't he divorce that silly Stella? Why did Andrea have to be the one who suffered?
No. She pressed her lips together with determination. That was old thinking. That was her past self-talking. She had to forge a new life for herself.
She had to get over Wilson Struthers. She should be able to. After all, for seven years, she hadn't been aware that he even existed.
Relaxing her closed eyelids, Andrea allowed herself to drift. They were scheduled to arrive in Richmond at around two in the afternoon, which was 9:00 a.m. Hawaiian time. If she wanted to be at her best when she saw her father, she'd better get some sleep.
* * * *
One of the benefits of first-class travel was being able to depart before the rest of the hoard. Now at the Richmond airport, Will grabbed their carryons and guided Andrea off the plane, into the crowded terminal.
On their layover in Newark, he hadn't been able to connect with Randolph Ernst. Calling Andrea's father now was at the top of his list.
Andrea pointed to the restroom sign, then said, "Be right back."
He nodded and pulled out his cell phone. "I'll wait over by the newsstand." He watched her walk away, her shapely figure hidden under a white hooded parka and baggy sweatpants. She still had no bra on. He knew that by the flash of beige peeping out of her handbag.
Pressing the speed-dial for Randolph's office, Will found an empty area and leaned against the newsstand wall.
"Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen. Mr. Ernst's office," Melinda Dithers, Randolph's personal secretary answered.
"Melinda, it's Will Struthers again. Is Mr. Ernst back from court?"
"Yes, he is, Mr. Struthers. I'll let him know you're on the line."
The wait wasn't long. "Will!" The man's voice boomed. "Good to hear from you. I didn't expect you for a few more days. Eager to get back to your blushing bride, hey?"
Hell.
Will cleared his throat. "Randy, listen, something important has come up. I've got to see you. How about if I stop over your house--"
"No can do, Will. Won't be there. I'm leaving the office at four. Some blasted meeting at our New York office. Scargill insists I attend."
Damn it all, that wouldn't do. Will stared out at the airport passersby, but didn't really see them. He'd wanted to let Randolph know about Andrea in the privacy of his own home. Since that option was out of the question, he'd have to change the venue to the big man's office.
"I'm at the airport, Randy. As soon as I pick up my luggage, I'll come straight to your office. With any luck I'll be there in an hour. I have to talk with you."
"Can't it wait until I get back?"
"No. It's very important, Randy."
There was a pause at the other end of the line. "What's it about?"
"Just wait until I get there, okay?" Will breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll see you in a few."
He terminated the call. The smell of fresh coffee distracted him. He could use a cup of liquid energy. Walking to the shop next door, he ordered a mocha latte.
Darting his gaze to the restroom on the other side of the walkway, he didn't see Andrea exit. She must've still been inside, freshening up. And hopefully, she put her bra back on, too.
He pressed another cell number. Stella's. This call he was glad to make in private.
"Sugar!" was her enthusiastic reply. "Are you finally here? Oh, I have so pined for you!"
He took a jolt of his latte. "It's good to hear your voice, Stella."
As they exchanged inconsequential chatter, he kept watching for Andrea.
"I've decorated a tree, sugar. All glittery lights and fancy doodads. It's just gorgeous. I've even got some Christmas presents wrapped." Stella paused. "Did you buy me that somethin' special from Hawaii?"
Hell. He'd forgotten. Eyeing the stores lining the airport concourse, he was on the lookout for an "Emergency Diamond" store.
"Of course," he lied. "I think you'll be pleased."
She purred. "When are you comin' home? I can't wait to get you know, get reacquainted under the tree."
Will gulped down more coffee. Too bad it wasn't laced with whisky. "I've got a few loose ends to finish off at the office, then I'll be home."
"Well, shoot! You know I'll be waitin' with bells on, sugar. And not much else!"
"See you soon, Stella."
He slipped the cell in his jacket pocket, then wiped away the sudden sweat from his forehead. How the hell did he ever get himself in this insane situation? Stella was a good woman. Beautiful. Desirable. She deserved better than a half-hearted lover.
Glancing across the concourse at the restroom, he still didn't spot Andrea. Unaccustomed worry pierced his heart. He took a step in that direction.
"Wilson, hi." The object of his concern had appeared by his side. Her hood was up, her exotic face framed in genuine raccoon fur. She had her hands wrapped around a coffee cup as if she was cold.
She probably was. The terminal's temperature was in the sixties. Frigid for one used to Hawaiian weather.
By her side was a boy, or rather a young man, with a full head of dark hair and a smitten expression.
For some reason, Will felt another piercing. This one was of jealousy.
"This is Oscar." She smiled at her companion. "When I became entangled in a mass of passengers heading for baggage claim, he rescued me."
The besotted youth turned bright red. "It was n-nothing, Andrea."
Will picked up the carryons, then gripped her upper arm. He edged her out into the continuous stream of commuters. "If we're going to catch your father, we've got to get going."
"Thanks for the coffee, Oscar," she called back to the infatuated puppy.
Once they were in the flow of traffic, Will couldn't help growling. "You shouldn't be picking up strangers, Andrea. It can be dangerous--"
"Calm yourself, Wilson." She drank from her cup. "I can take care of myself. Haven't I proved that?"
She'd prove
d it in Hawaii. But whether she could handle metropolitan life was another story all together.
He spotted his lifesaving jewelry store. "Do you mind if we stop a moment?" He gestured over to the store. "I've got a quick purchase to make."
Andrea glanced at the dazzling gems on display in the window. Her mouth lifted into a wry smile. "Forget to buy a souvenir?"
"You're quick." He grinned.
"And you're incorrigible." Andrea's eyes sparkled more than the expensive jewelry in the window. She fluttered her fingers toward the entrance. "Go ahead, Wilson. I'll wait here and finish my coffee."
He didn't take long. Seizing upon the first pair of diamond solitaire stud earrings he saw, he paid the sticker price and stuck the blue velvet box in his jacket pocket.
"Okay," he announced to Andrea. "My neck is saved. Let's get going."
They rejoined the airport throng of humanity headed for the escalator. She got on the down escalator first. Behind her, he gazed at the top of her white parka hood. He grinned again. She looked like an enchanting little Eskimo.
Now on the first level, they briskly walked to the baggage claim area.
"Can I borrow your phone, Wilson? I've got to let Mama Kalala know we've landed."
He handed the cell over without speaking. All too soon she would be out of his life. Which was probably a good thing. She needed to get on with her life, and so did he.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
With Andrea in tow, Will entered the executive offices of Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen. While he waved to a few of his colleagues, he didn't stop to chat. He was well aware that people were naturally curious about the woman walking by his side. Dressed in her parka and sweats, she stood out like a proverbial sore thumb among the business suits and dresses.
He had her pull her hood back to reveal her long dark hair. Her expressive blue eyes were covered by his pair of sunglasses. She didn't look anything like the Andrea Ernst who had last visited the building. He didn't want anyone to guess her identity before she had a chance to see her father.
Outside Randolph's office, he greeted Melinda Dithers, then requested coffee be brought inside. While the secretary scuttled off to fetch a pot, he nodded for Andrea to take a seat in the waiting area.
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