“How is it you seem so normal?”
“Man, do I have you hornswoggled. You should ask Ma about that when you see her tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Kara stumbled to a halt on the path.
“Sure, she’s coming to New York.”
“Your mother?” She reached for a park bench.
“Yes.”
“Coming to New York?” She sat.
“Yep,” Justin agreed far too amiably and settled beside her, stretching out his long legs as if there wasn’t a thing the matter in the world.
“Tomorrow?” Kara managed to gasp out. The field of bright bluebells now waved back and forth like an ocean until she felt vaguely seasick.
“Seems I might have already said something about that.”
Kara glared up at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Can’t see why I shouldn’t. I was on the phone to her when you put my face into the kitchen counter.”
“You were? Sorry ’bout that. I seem to recall that I was upset.”
“I may have noticed that myself. You seem less upset now.”
“Other than your mother coming.”
“Other than that.”
Kara let out a scream of frustration that sent the pigeons that had been sidling up to beg for crumbs running for cover. They scowled back at her as they went. And with their deep pigeon brains running at full speed, it was barely five seconds before they were turning back to beg for more crumbs despite her hands being empty.
Justin reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out one of the bagels he had stowed there. He unwrapped it and tossed some bits of bread.
“No! Don’t!”
“What? You are filled with a whole lot of commands, Captain Moretti.”
She simply waved her hand to indicate the walkway in front of them. Where there had been four pigeons a moment before, there were now forty. More were flapping in from other less-promising tourists.
Justin kept tossing out bits and crumbles until the birds’ cooing was so loud she couldn’t even think.
“Your mother?” was all she could manage.
“Flying in tomorrow. I’d like you to meet her, if you’re over hating me.” His easy smile softened any protest she might have construed from his words. “If you still despise me or feel yourself prone to making jokes about our hats, I’ll leave it up to you to reconsider.”
“I don’t hate you. I just—”
“Don’t know what to do with me. I know. I think we have trampled that ground sufficiently for the time being.”
“Is she flying here to…meet me?”
“How much would it scare you if I said yes?”
She elbowed him sharply in the ribs in answer, causing him to bobble his next set of bread crumbs all over his sneakers. The pigeons descended, pecking for every crumb that might have slipped between shoelaces.
“Hey, guys! Cut that out. It tickles and these are brand-new.”
Kara was…dating, she could handle “dating” for a descriptor…a cowboy who talked to pigeons.
“Ma is by pure coincidence flying in to speak at the next New York Quarter Horse Association meeting. She’s coming out a day early to see me and, if it doesn’t make your brain explode or some equally New York Italian event, would very much like to meet you.”
“Did you tell her that…” Kara couldn’t say it.
“That I love you? Dang!” He tipped his hat back on his head and looked winded. “Don’t think I’ve said that part before. Whoo-ee but that changes a man’s view of the world, saying it aloud. I didn’t have to say it in so many words as it was pretty obvious. Still, takes a man’s breath clean away. Sorry it just sorta slid out into public like that, but you heard it first from me.”
“Actually”—Kara covered her face—“I heard it from Nonna first.”
Justin nodded soberly as he tossed the last of his bagel out to the eager flock, now a veritable sea at their feet. “She’s a smart woman. I like her a lot.”
Kara loved her. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to kill her grandmother for stirring up everything this morning. It was a real problem; Nonna was still sharp as all hell, but now that she’d retired from the shop she’d founded, she had far too much time to meddle.
* * *
Kara and Justin waited on the edge of the parking apron in a corner of the Teterboro Airport—a forty-five-minute taxi ride from Brooklyn. Small planes zipped down the runway every sixty seconds or so. Inbound and outbound, its two runways felt far busier and more alive than LaGuardia or JFK, though both had three times the traffic, all of it monstrous jets.
Kara liked this airport; it felt more personal that all the glass and steel of the big terminals. She and Justin had taken a taxi, walked through a gate, and were standing among the parked and tied-down planes waiting for…oh God, Justin’s mom.
Every third or fourth takeoff was a little business jet similar to the one rolling to a stop on the apron in front of her.
The neat Citation M2 jet looked as if it had been branded with a giant hot iron, “RQR.” Below that were the words “Roberts Quarter Horse Ranch.”
Kara did her best to not cower before the tall, blond woman who climbed off the plane—she had apparently piloted from Texas to New York on her own.
Kara didn’t know what she’d expected, but “mothers” in her neighborhood all came in variations on her own. Even the Jews and the Greeks tended toward moderate statures, raised voices, and waistlines that showed visible signs of a passion for food.
Annie Roberts was none of those, which made her even more surprising. She was only a few inches shy of Justin’s towering height. Light skinned and slender. The same wheat-blond hair that Kara had so come to appreciate on Justin slid in a wide, wavy cascade over the woman’s shoulders. The blouse and slacks weren’t “country”—Kara recognized high-end designer elegant when she saw it. And the toes of her cowboy boots were stitched works of art that Kara deeply craved even though she’d never been much of a shoe person.
“Kara, this Annie Roberts. Ma, this is Captain Kara Moretti. She’s the Air Mission Command for my company.”
“Which means what in English?” Her accent was even thicker than Justin’s, but it fit her and her lighter voice well.
“It means,” Kara answered for him, “that when he’s in the air, he has to do what I say.”
“And on the ground?” Annie asked in a way that had Kara grinning despite her nerves.
“That’s still a matter of some negotiation, Ms. Roberts.”
Annie’s laugh was as bright and sunny as her son’s as she turned and flicked a finger against Justin’s hat brim. “Y’all are in the city now, Son.”
Kara cheered and sent a told-you-so smirk to Justin.
“Just trying to keep the natives in line, Ma.” He tugged the brim back into place to declare his staunch support for his state.
“Yeah, right.” Kara pumped a fist in victory.
“I’m not the only one who can’t hide being country.” He kicked the toe of his mother’s cowboy boot with the toe of his own. Their hug was far less effusive than the typical hug in the Moretti household, but no less sincere for that.
“So.” Justin’s mother turned to face Kara.
Kara felt suddenly small and dowdy, wearing her favorite worn jeans close beside a gazillion-dollar private jet in front of these two amazing specimens of human genetics.
“Justie has never been one to trip and fall over his tongue about a woman before.”
“I believe that may have been my doing.”
Annie Roberts did that same silent question-with-her-eyebrows thing that Justin did.
“I was planting his face into a kitchen counter when last he spoke to you.” She barely resisted adding a “ma’am.” Justin’s mom was wholly daunting.
“Kara.”
“Annie.”
Maybe Kara wouldn’t feel too self-conscious about how much she liked this woman’s son.
Liked sounded as if she was fooling herself, but she wasn’t going to think about that at the moment.
* * *
Justin wondered how he’d eaten quite so much. The big bowl of minestrone soup would have been enough. But the homemade pizza with all fresh toppings had been stunningly good. And somewhere along the way he’d consumed at least two sides of spaghetti with Nonna’s red sauce that she only made for special guests.
“You really should consider my offer, Joe.” His mom and Kara’s middle brother had been talking horses for much of the meal. “I’m glad to fly you down to look over the operation.”
Justin had long since given up any attempt to control the dinner conversation. The Morettis had shifted from being cautious of Annie Roberts to full embrace, faster than a quarter horse could shift his gait. The Morettis also had a talent for all talking simultaneously that left his head spinning.
“I’ve never worked with horses, Ms. Roberts.” Of them all, only Joe had retained the honorific. “Only ever bet on them.”
“I know plenty of racers and ranchers who know far less about horses than you do. My older boy, Rafe, could help you fill that gap of experience right quick.”
“Ma”—Justin rested his hand on hers—“his family and his job are here.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon. Justin was always the thoughtful one. Most of us Robertses simply leap into the middle of the ring without asking no mind or pardon. Still, Joe, you should think about it. My daughter has leave next month…” She trailed off suggestively.
“If she looks anything like you, Annie”—Kara leaned excitedly into the conversation—“he’s toast.”
Justin gave up and joined the fray. “Spitting image. Rides like a pro too. We all thought she’d go pro rodeo before the Air Force tripped her up by offering a steed she couldn’t turn down. She captains an AC-130 Spooky gunship like you can’t imagine.”
“Total toast!” Kara cheered.
* * *
Justin’s look across the table stopped Kara cold. If a younger version of Annie Roberts would spell doom for her brother Joe, what did that mean about Justin?
Last night he’d come home with her for dinner, but slept at the hotel. What was even more irritating was that it had gained him respect and support from her own family. She’d complained to Nonna that it felt like everyone was ganging up on her.
Nonna had laughed in that way of hers that always made things better. “Oh, mia bambina. They only try to wish the very best for you. They love you with all their hearts; that is how we Morettis are made.”
At least it made her feel better until she was well clear of Nonna’s influence and sleeping alone in her own bed. Then it still felt like they were all conspiring against her.
And now the way Justin was looking at her across the table told her that Joe Moretti wasn’t the only one who was toast here.
Was that the stage that came between dating…and that other word?
Kara Moretti.
Totally unable to look away from the handsome, blond cowboy with the dazzling blue eyes he’d inherited from the woman close beside him.
Yep. Toast seemed to cover the bases just fine.
Crap!
* * *
“It was so wonderful to meet you, Kara.” They’d taken Annie back out to the airport. It was still predawn, but her first meeting was for breakfast in Syracuse, a four-hour drive most of the way across the state or just a quick half-hour flight in the sporty, little family jet.
Annie was as fresh and lively at six in the morning as she’d been stepping off the plane after a three-hour hop north from Texas. She had a terrifying energy that Kara was rather glad Justin lacked. He was more steady, whereas his mom was part steamroller—beautiful and charming, but at least fifty percent steamroller.
It was clear by watching them prepare the plane for flight that he was also very familiar with the little jet.
Kara had ducked her head inside while they were preflighting the exterior. Clearly this was Annie’s traveling office, with a wide variety of personal and very feminine touches that Kara would never have thought of. But seeing them, she wished she was the sort of person who would have the means and reason to do so. It wasn’t avarice or greed; it was the perfect juxtaposition of woman and businesswoman that she appreciated. She was also amused to spot a fancy tooled-leather western saddle—a real showpiece—hanging on a support clearly made for the purpose and a white straw hat that matched Justin’s sitting on the empty copilot’s seat.
Once the plane was all ready, Annie led her aside, leaving Justin standing by the steps.
“I really can’t believe he didn’t sleep with you last night.” If Annie Roberts was anything, it was plainspoken. Straight to the point.
Justin and his mother had both stayed at the hotel.
“If you want my advice, don’t let him get away with that again. He learned his manners from his father—bless the man. I love him to death, but if it had been left up to him, we’d still be courting. Robertses are not the fastest men in the herd.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Justin wasn’t the one dragging his feet; at least not his emotional feet.
“He is quite the gentleman.” Kara wasn’t sure she’d ever used that word about a man before. “Can’t say as I’m real used to that. They aren’t what you’d call common in Brooklyn.”
“He is a good boy.” Annie wrapped Kara in a surprising and powerful hug. It felt as if Justin had inherited his hug talent from his mother. Annie Roberts made her feel very safe.
“He is, Annie. Your son does you full honor. You should see how protective he is of his crew.”
Annie’s grin was as huge as only a proud mother’s could be. “You’re gonna have to do me a favor, Kara.”
“What’s that?”
And in that instant Annie Roberts’s face completely shifted. The impossible composure was gone and a deeply fearful woman looked at her for a moment. A flash of fear so deep yet so brief that Kara would have doubted seeing it if she hadn’t felt its impact.
“What is it, Annie?”
Her smile wavered back to life. “Try to keep my boy alive, Kara Moretti. Please try really hard.”
Kara could only nod. She’d seen hints of the expression on her own mother’s face every time the family went to work. Being a policeman wasn’t generally dangerous, but all it took was one psycho domestic disturbance or one wound-up, drugged-out asshole… It wasn’t the amount of danger, but that it was always there. It was why Mama always asked if Kara still worked from her box—Mama didn’t call it a “coffin” of course.
“I’ll do my damnedest, Annie. Really I will.”
Annie mouthed a “Thank you” and suppressed a sniffle.
“I’ll try for both of us.” Kara hadn’t meant to say that; it wound her one loop tighter to Justin.
“Good girl.” Annie hugged her. “Now, happy face for the menfolk. Can’t be letting on how much we worry.” And in a flash the radiant Annie Roberts stood once more before her. But Kara now knew what lay beneath that perfect surface she presented to the world and to her son, and liked the woman all the better for it. They wandered back to Justin arm in arm as if they’d been best friends since forever. “Do you ride? I already know the perfect horse for you.”
Kara winced. She never even had a chance to mention that the closest she’d ever been to a horse were the mounted police patrols in Central Park before Annie rushed on.
“She’s the sweetest little three-year-old. Y’all come down and we’ll go out riding. I’ll round up
some of the girls, and we’ll talk about nothing except men the whole time. Or better yet, we won’t talk about them at all just so they don’t get swelled heads.” Annie poked her son in the chest. “Now I’d best scoot; I am the guest of honor after all.” She winked broadly to show how much being front and center didn’t bother her or feed her ego.
She embraced Justin, whispered something in his ear, and then clambered aboard. Moments later the jet roared to life and was taxiing toward the main runway.
They watched until she leaped into the sky with a roar that rippled down the field. She waggled her wings, banked west, and was gone in moments.
Kara still couldn’t catch her breath from the whirlwind of emotions the woman had left behind. Justin looked equally battered.
“Is she always like that?” They turned back for the parking lot as a turboprop roared aloft with far more noise than the quiet little jet.
“Yes, except when she’s even more like that. Once Ma gets an idea in her head, there’s no slowing her down.”
“What did she say to you?”
Justin looked interested in the fuel truck parked close by the terminal building.
“C’mon, Cowboy. Give.”
“She, shall we say, suggested that I should take you back to the hotel and…” He faltered to a stop leaving no question at all about what his mother had said to him.
Kara considered both Annie’s instructions to her and her own emotions. Being “toast” didn’t sound bad at all.
“I think your mother is a very smart woman.”
Chapter 20
Justin absolutely agreed that his mother was a very smart woman. And as much as he was tempted to simply drag Kara into the nearest hotel—never mind the ride all the way back to his room in the city—he’d noticed her flinch even if his mother had missed it.
He had a whispered conversation with the cabbie before climbing into the backseat of the car.
“What was that about?”
Justin kept his mouth shut.
“C’mon, Cowboy. I’m not going to ask again, and you know I don’t fight fair.”
By Break of Day (The Night Stalkers) Page 18