Come Fly With Me

by Sandi Perry

  Alex turned to Allison, "Sounds like she wants to put me in some janitor's closet."

  "It didn't sound like that to me."

  Their stopped talking as the aroma of garlicky beef stew and homemade crusty bread filled the air. Becca backed through the kitchen-swinging door, her arms laden with a large tureen of stew. They dashed over to help her, and then they sat down to eat.

  "What made you decide to turn your home into a B&B—if that's not too forward of me to ask," Allison wanted to know. "And by the way, you're an amazing cook."

  "Thank you," she beamed. "Well, my husband died a couple of years ago, and I found myself wandering through this big, old house by myself. My son, Thomas, is a

  plumber and he thought it would be a great idea—in truth, he really pushed me into it. There aren't any inns here, and he thought it would speak to my nurturing needs if I opened one. I raised six children in this house, and my parents spent their final years with us, too. He got a crew together—some work buddies owed him a favor, and they pretty much pulled it together for me. But I'm still getting used to the idea of opening up my home to strangers."

  She took a piece of the bread and pointed it as she spoke, "But, I have to say, if you two are any indication of who I can expect to appear on my doorstep, I'd be delighted. Enough about me, let's go upstairs and get you settled in—hopefully the roads will be cleared tomorrow and you can continue on toward your Mom's house."

  They clomped up the wide, gleaming wood staircase. Allison was thrilled she'd had the foresight to keep an extra pair of boots at her office, too bad she hadn't thought to bring her change of clothing. Being stranded in a snowstorm with Alex had been the furthest thing from her mind when they left the city a few hours ago.

  "This is your room, Allison," Becca opened the door to a chintz-filled room with a king-sized bed flanked with scrolled, wrought-iron head and footboards. There were at least twenty decorative pillows in a mound in the middle of the bed. There was a reading area in front of the fireplace set with a pair old-fashioned looking wingback chairs and a small, round table laden with magazines.

  "There's a bathroom over there," she gestured at the gleaming, white subway-tiled room with its claw-foot tub. "The shower is the only modern amenity–my son told me that quaint only goes so far."

  "It's all so beautiful. You did an amazing job with the decorating; it looks like it was fun for you."

  "Thanks, I did have fun. My girlfriends all joined in to help. Every room has a different color scheme." Becca smiled at Alex, "Now it's your turn. See you in the morning, Allison."

  Alex followed her dutifully and turned his head back toward Allison with a pleading expression on his face.

  "Good night, Alex," she smirked as she closed the door. She went over to the large windows and looked out into the night. The snow was swirling wildly. There was no sound at all—the heavy flakes muffled all other hint of activity. It was as if nature and man bowed to the supremacy of the snow, embracing its beauty and respecting its power. Allison remembered when she'd loved the threat of a snowstorm that brought with it the anticipation of cancelled school. At this moment, although it was serenely beautiful, the snow brought with it a certain frustration. She walked into the bathroom and admired the love and care Becca had put into the room. All the makings were here for a successful business, and she seemed like a fine, strong woman. She reminded her of her mother. Allison heard a knock at the door and went to open it.

  Alex breezed in, "There's no heat in my closet. I'll just have to bunk here."

  "What? How can that be?" A tinge of panic crept into her voice.

  "This place isn't fully-operational yet, you heard Becca." He walked over to the window where she had stood a few moments earlier. "I'm glad to be inside; it's really coming down out there."

  "Alex..."

  "Don't worry, my sweet. That bed is large enough; I'll stay on my side."

  "You're sleeping on the bed?" Allison raised her eyebrows.

  "Allison, I'm not as chivalrous as to lie on a hard floor while you and the only blanket in the room lay softly ensconced in that delicious-looking bed. I won't make a move, you have my word. Unless you want me to of course..."

  "I don't. Just keep your pants on."

  "My pants are wet—they're coming off. Deal with it."

  Allison walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She was determined not to let him push her buttons. She felt calmer and more in control when she came out a few minutes later. She was wrapped in the fluffy, white terry robe that Becca had so kindly remembered to hang on the bathroom hook. Alex was sitting on the bed frowning at his BlackBerry. He looked up when he heard her pad barefooted into the room.

  "Plan on sleeping wrapped up like a mummy all night?" he asked.

  "No," she said as she dropped the robe, grateful that she was wearing a matching bra and panties set—in red.

  His mouth fell open then he clenched his jaw. "I'll be taking my shower, now," he said as he bolted toward the bathroom.

  "Maybe you should have stayed in your closet," she called after him.

  He paused with his back to her and turned around slowly, a gleam in his eye, "You will regret that you said that."

  "Yeah, right," Allison said under her breath as she smugly turned out all the lights, only leaving on one small bedside lamp on her side of the bed. Alex came out a few minutes later with the towel riding low on his waist.

  "I hope you have something on underneath that towel," she said as she put down the magazine she was reading.

  He dropped the towel where he stood and walked over to his side of the bed. "Tighty-whities, I'd never have thought," Allison murmured.

  He reached over across her as he turned out the lamp and leaned down into her soft, warm body. "I'm full of surprises, Allison Ross; give a holler if you're interested in any of them." He turned his back to her and was snoring within a matter of minutes.

  ****

  The next morning the sun came streaming into the room. Allison was in a deep stupor as she made a mental note to tell Becca that her guests might enjoy the option of room-darkening curtains. She tentatively opened her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept so deeply. Alex was propped up on his elbow, looking down at her. She closed her eyes again.

  "Good morning to you, too," he whispered in her ear. His hand slid down her smooth stomach and slipped into her panties.

  "Alex, what are you doing?!"

  "You'll figure it out in a second."

  "Alex!"

  "Shh..." he whispered in her ear. "Relax...just ride the wave."

  Allison's limbs were so heavy, she couldn't move if she tried. The soft-downy mattress combined with Alex's masterful stroking and silky voice had her in some sort of trance. Her mind fought her body to get up—and lost. She just lay there, enjoying all the sensations that washed over her. She was aware on some level of Alex as he spoke soothingly in her ear...What was he doing with his hand? It was unspeakably delicious. She felt like she could lay there forever. His fingers increased their intensity, and she was taken by surprise as she gasped in sudden release. Her eyes flew open.

  Alex looked down at her and then patted her head, "At least now, you'll be easier to deal with."

  That woke her up. "Even when you're pleasuring me, you're always thinking about yourself," she bit out as she bolted off the bed.

  He flopped back against the pillows, "Of course, I never pretended to be a choir boy."

  She looked around the room for something to throw at him, but she came up empty.

  "I'd lock the bathroom door if I were you. Standing there in the middle of the room, your hair all tousled, your eyes lookin' all satisfied, I have half a mind to join you in that shower."

  "You," she pointed at him, "Stay right there."

  "Yes, Ma'am," he said as he walked slowly toward her.

  "Alex, I mean it."

  "No. You don't."

  He backed her up to the wall. He leaned his head do
wn and kissed her. For a long time. He ran his fingers along her slender neck, slowly and lovingly.

  "I just take some getting used to," he smiled. "Now hurry in that shower, I smell some mighty fine bacon sizzling in Mrs. Morrison's kitchen."

  Allison cursed him and herself about a hundred times as she hastily dashed into the shower and scrubbed her body—the same body that had betrayed her a few minutes ago. What was it about him that unnerved her so much? Her stomach grumbled in protest, and she dressed hastily, anxious to check out the weather and then head out as soon as possible. She had to come up with a way to get rid of Alex. Maybe, if she was lucky, there would be an emergency at the office, and she'd be able to send him back. Her head was beginning to pound and her earlier languor was replaced with short, determined movements.

  She came out of the bathroom fully clothed and saw that Alex had the good sense to be wearing his shirt while he waited for his turn. He flipped his phone onto the small table, "No reception here, maybe there's some trouble with the lines."

  "We'll figure it out. But hurry, I'm anxious to hear what Detective Fitzsimmons has to tell me. I'll be downstairs grabbing a quick coffee. We'll leave as soon as you're ready," she said over her shoulder as she bolted from the room, careful to keep her eyes straight ahead. She heard Alex's chuckle follow her down the stairs and resolved to pelt him with a dozen snowballs the first chance she got.

  "Becca, good morning," Allison rolled her shoulders in an attempt to release her tension. "That coffee smells amazing."

  "Did you sleep well?" Becca asked.

  "Yes, the room was perfect. The bed is really, really soft," Allison paused as she added sugar to her coffee. "The handyman's room has no heat. You might want to mention that to your son."

  "I know," Becca said as she put a blueberry muffin on a plate and handed it to Allison.

  Allison stared at her and said, "Did Alex put you up to that?"

  "No. Not at all. Actually, he came back down here last night to ask me if I'd be offended if he stayed with you. He's a perfect gentleman."

  "He picks and chooses when to be a gentleman, don't be fooled." Allison tried to fight back the blush as it crept onto her face.

  Becca put down her mug and reached over to touch Allison's arm, "Please forgive my meddling. But I'm putting on my mother hat, here. I don't know you at all, and I'll probably never see you again, so that gives me some license to overstep. When a man looks at a woman the way he looks at you, well, that woman would be a fool to throw him away like yesterday's news. Just ask him what he wants."

  Allison sighed, "I know what he wants. It's complicated."

  "All the good ones are, dear."

  Chapter 25

  An hour later, they pulled up in front of the police station. Alex turned off the engine and reached for the door. Allison put her hand on his arm, "Please, wait a second."

  He turned to look at her, and she felt a moment of panic as she looked into his clear, intelligent eyes. "Alex, I'm scared right now—I don't know what they're going to tell me." She took a deep breath, "I really appreciate all that you've done for me—for being such a good friend. I haven't been all that nice to you. Please accept my apologies."

  "There's no need to apologize and no need to sound so formal."

  She shook her head, "This is me being grateful. It seems like I'm pretty rusty at it."

  "So it seems," he said with an odd expression on his face. "Let's go see what was so urgent that the police had to drag us up here in the middle of a snowstorm."

  They trudged up the barely-shoveled steps outside the Police Station and asked for Detective Fitzsimmons. They spotted him as he waved at them from a glass-enclosed office at the back of a room filled with desks piled high with discarded coffee cups.

  "Detective, this is my work colleague, Alexander Coventry," Allison said.

  The men shook hands. "Ms. Ross, I prefer to speak with you alone." Det. Fitzsimmons said.

  "Please, Detective, I can vouch for Alex. Tell me what you've uncovered."

  He nodded. "This turned up on the property of the home where your father had his accident." His hand came out from under his desk, as he handed Allison a Burberry scarf wrapped in a plastic forensic bag. "The gardeners came in to landscape the backyard and they found that this had gotten buried under the ground. Do you recognize it?"

  "It looks familiar, but I'm not sure..."

  "I'm wearing the same one," Alex said.

  Allison stared at him as he yanked on his scarf. She knew he was speaking because she saw his lips moving, but the sudden ringing in her ears blocked out all sound. Allison roused herself from her fog in enough time to hear Alex say, "It was a Christmas gift that Daniel Ross gave out last year to all the board members."

  "But you're not a board member," Allison finally found her voice.

  "A few others got them, as well."

  "Who exactly got the scarves, Mr. Coventry?" the detective asked.

  "Besides the board members, only Bradley Ross and myself."

  "Maybe this is my father's scarf," Allison said, looking at the detective.

  "No," Alex said. "He didn't have one. I remember him berating Natalya for not ordering enough so he could look like 'part of the team'."

  Allison turned toward the detective, "Well surely that scarf could belong to absolutely anybody. A Burberry scarf in my parents' neighborhood is practically a uniform."

  "Not exactly, because these scarves are unique," the detective replied. "Mr. Coventry, would you care to show Ms .Ross what I mean?"

  Alex turned his scarf over and showed Allison a label, "Your father had these specially made up for all of us."

  Allison peered closely at the white label with gold script letters that read, Happy Holidays-Daniel Ross.

  "Wow, so what do you make of this?" she turned her attention back to the detective.

  "There's something else. We had told you that the streetlight over the property was out. When we called the town to see if it had been reported, they said it had not been called in. They called us back a couple of days later when a technician went out to change the bulb..." the detective paused, "It had been shot out."

  "Shot out?" Allison felt like she was underwater again and had to struggle to keep up the thread of the conversation, "Are you saying someone shot at the streetlamp?"

  "Yes. Someone who had considerable skill with a rifle and access to one. I know this may be overwhelming, but I need you to pay close attention when you go back to the office. Listen to people's conversations—their tone when they speak of your father. When someone doesn't think they're being watched, that's the moment when they'll slip up."

  "Maybe Allison shouldn't go into the office. If there really was foul play, maybe she's in danger," Alex objected.

  "I'm sitting right here, Alex. It's fine. I'll be fine."

  The detective nodded, "Ms> Ross if you feel uncomfortable or fearful in any way, please, go directly home and call for help. And that goes for you, too," he said to Alex. "We don't need any heroes."

  Allison was glued to her seat. She didn't realize the conversation was over and it was time to leave until Alex tapped her arm.

  "Ally, let's leave and allow the detectives to make their follow-up calls."

  Detective Fitzsimmons got up and looked at Allison kindly, "We have some solid leads now. We will do everything to bring a sound resolution to your father's...accident."

  "Thank you," Allison smiled wanly, all her energy seeming to evaporate at that moment.

  They walked toward the car and Alex paused mid-step, "What's our next move? Do you want to stop off at your mom's house?"

  "No, she's in L.A. visiting my Aunt Carol. I'm grateful she wasn't home to get this disturbing call."

  "Will you tell her?"

  "Absolutely not," she said forcefully, feeling color returning to her cheeks.

  "So, where do we go now?" Alex asked.

  "If it's not too much bother, I want to go home. To the city. I can call a
car to take me."

  "No, I'll take you. I'll see you home safely and then drive back up to Turtle Bay." Alex offered.

  "It's out of the way, but thank you, I really appreciate it," Allison said as she slid into the seat. She missed Alex's grimace as she put her head back and closed her eyes. It was a quick, quiet ride back into the city.

  ****

  "You really didn't have to stay and babysit me," Allison said as she slurped up some sesame noodles. "You can't hang around all the time."

  "Who says?" He cracked open a fortune cookie. "Want to hear your fortune?"

  "Sure, hit me with it."

  "It says, 'A tall, handsome stranger will come into your life. Heed his words— for he is very wise'."

  She shook her head as she reached for a cookie, "This one says, 'Beware of tall, handsome strangers who make up things to further their own interests'."

  "So, you think I'm handsome?" he smiled cheekily.

  They heard a knock on the door. Allison got up to answer it.

  "What are you doing?" Alex said, "You can't just open the door if you don't know who it is."

  "I'll know in a minute...oh, it's Kenyon, not some crazed murderer who knocks on the door before attacking." She turned to look at Alex, her hand on her hip.

  "No need for sarcasm, I'm spooked after today, that's all." He eyed Kenyon warily.

  "What did the police say?" Kenyon walked over to the table and speared a dumpling with a pair of chopsticks as he sat down.

  Alex looked at Kenyon, "It's fascinating to me how you're always just popping up."

  "I live down the hall."

  The men eyed each other suspiciously. Allison rolled her eyes, "Ken, the police now have a list of suspects that they are looking into, and my head is exploding from the

  strain of the day. So, I would appreciate it if you two would start acting your age and not like you were in some contest to see whose is bigger."

  "Mine is," they said in unison.