HORIZONS
Catherine Hart
In a moment of heartstopping terror, Kelly Kennedy's plane went down on a remote island in the Pacific. The miracle was that some of the passengers lived. The truth was that to stay alive they had to fight nature—and each other. Among the group that destiny had spared were an orphaned baby, a husband accused of killing his wife… and the man who drew Kelly to him like a magnet—architectural engineer Zach Goldstein. To Kelly, newly divorced, both men were dangerous. One might have taken the innocent life of an innocent person. The other was sweeping Kelly into the treacherous territory of desire—and the point of no return.
Now, in a place where the only laws were those they made themselves and only the bravest and the strongest survived, Kelly and Zach would search for a love that could endure… a love that stretched as far as forever…
Chapter 1
Kelly Kennedy stashed her carry-on in the overhead compartment and settled into her seat with a sigh. It was going to be a long flight from New Zealand back to the U.S., and hopefully a quiet one. With any luck she’d sleep most of the way.
She was exhausted—physically, emotionally, and mentally drained. The past few months had been a hell she never wanted to relive, fraught with one traumatic event after another. In the midst of trying to launch her newest beauty-and-fitness boutique in Australia, the third in a fledgling chain, she’d been forced to deal with a messy divorce. Three weeks ago, with the ink not yet dry on the divorce petition, she’d flown from Phoenix to Sydney, leaving the smoldering ashes of her marriage behind her, hoping to find some sort of relief from all the heartache and anger.
It hadn’t worked out that way. Simply fleeing the scene of the disaster hadn’t been enough. Even with all that distance, and the rigors of getting the new store ready to open, of ironing out last-minute problems, she’d kept bumping up against the residue of her failed marriage. The wounds were too fresh yet, and would take time to heal. Mentally, rationally, she knew that. Emotionally, she kept hoping for a miracle cure, some type of super-injection that would jerk her off of this endless, energy-robbing treadmill of misery and rage, recriminations and tears.
But for now, it was back to Phoenix, via Auckland, Hawaii, and San Francisco—back to sorting out the strange mix of his-and-her friends, relatives, and acquaintances that were arising in the wake of the impending divorce. Back to listening to well-intentioned advice she didn’t want to hear. Back to attempting to adjust to the role of the single female after five years of playing doubles. God! It was simply too wearisome to contemplate!
She was staring out the small, dingy window, trying to muster the energy to buckle her seatbelt, when a strident voice at her elbow claimed her attention—and everyone else’s.
“Seat four A! That is what my ticket says! This woman is in my seat! I demand that you make her move!”
Kelly looked up, recognized the indignant pain-in-the-ass Mexican starlet, and gave an inward groan. Geez! Once life decided to dump on you, it just wouldn’t quit!
“Miss Gomez, please understand,” the harried airline attendant said, “when a person doesn’t arrive prior to half an hour before boarding, his or her seat is allotted to someone else. Especially in the case of an unconfirmed reservation, such as yours. If you read the instructions with your ticket, you should have been aware of this. There are seats at the rear of the plane…”
“No!” Alita Gomez stamped her spike heel in demonstration of her ire. “I paid for first class, and that is what I will have! How dare you think you can treat me this way! Me! I could cause you to lose your measly little job with a mere snap of my fingers! Do you know this?”
Kelly was in a lousy mood at the moment herself, and Miss Hot-to-Trot was the last straw. “I didn’t think it was possible to snap your fingers with nails that long and weighted with that many layers of enamel,” she piped up, drawing Alita’s regard back to her. “You might not want to chance it. Those claws of yours might break off all the way back to your wrist.”
“Oh, it’s you!” Alita sneered. “The manager of that hole-in-the-door beauty salon at the hotel. I cannot imagine why such a highly rated hotel would allow you to set up your shabby little shop there.”
Kelly smirked back. “Probably because it’s such a treat to annoy snobbish clientele such as you, and it’s not a hole-in-the-wall salon.”
“Well, you won’t last long,” Alita predicted airily. “Whoever heard of combining a fitness center, a beauty salon, and a boutique in one business? Bah!” Her nose rose in disdain.
“If you gave us a chance, Attila, even you could benefit from our services. For one thing, we could teach you how to apply your make-up without a trowel.”
Just across the aisle, Zach Goldstein didn’t even try to hide his grin. What had promised to be just another boring trip was starting off to the contrary. Here he sat, with a ringside seat at a cat fight between two irate beauties. One hot Mexican tamale and one cool, tart-mouthed blonde. He’d never considered himself a womanizer, but the thought crossed his mind that if they started yanking hair and tearing at each other’s clothes, it would be almost as good as a female mud-wrestling match!
Personally, he was rooting for the strawberry blonde with the long French braid and big green eyes. She really was quite attractive, with a clean, naturally pretty look about her. Of course, Alita Gomez was no slouch either, but Zach had always been drawn to a less flamboyant type of beauty. More wholesome, less artificial.
Like Rachel. Rachel had been his concept of the ideal woman, the perfect mate. Somewhat shy in public, a little bold in private; more prone to listening than speaking, though she didn’t hesitate to take a firm stand on issues important to her. Zach used to tease her about being a closet zealot. He’d give his right arm to be able to do so again.
God, he missed her! Three years since her death, and that soul-deep ache still lingered. There seemed to be no escaping it, especially when, with each passing year, their daughter was maturing into Rachel’s mirror image. Same huge brown eyes, same nose, same stubborn chin. Becky was twelve now, teetering on the threshold of womanhood, but still young enough to be Daddy’s little girl at least half the time. Mostly when she wanted her own way.
His job as an architectural engineer kept him away from her more than he’d have liked, but his mother and dad and two sisters helped fill the gap so that Becky could remain at home with family and friends. He tried to schedule time off from his work to coincide with breaks in her school term, and in summer she’d often join him on site for several weeks. It was rough going, but somehow they were making it work. As soon as he got settled in Las Vegas and got this latest project off the ground, so to speak, he would send for her again. In the meantime, his telephone bill would soar to new heights, and he’d continue to worry that his baby would soon be wearing lipstick and developing a figure, and, God-forbid, dating!
His attention veered back to the matter at hand as the airline hostess tried to reason with the two women passengers. “Ladies, please. The plane is nearly ready to debark, and everyone must find his or her seat and get buckled in.”
She turned a pleading gaze toward Kelly, who seemed the more amenable of the two. “Ma’am, if you would agree to give up your seat, I promise you a first-class meal and complimentary drinks from here to San Francisco.”
“Throw in a free ticket for a future flight, and you’ve got a bargain,” Kelly told her.
“I’ll do my best,” the stewardess promised. “Thank you.”
“What about my manager?” Alita Gomez persisted. She gestured toward the short, rotund man waiting silently behind her. “Eduardo was to have a seat with me. We have much business to discuss.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Gomez, but…”
“No problem. Make m
e the same deal that you did for the lovely lady, and Miss Gomez’s manager can have my seat,” Zach offered.
Alita graced him with a brilliant smile, her eyes quickly assessing and approving his dark good looks. “At last!” she purred. “A man who knows how to be a gentleman! I will have Eduardo reward your generosity by providing you with a free ticket to the concert I will be giving in Hawaii this weekend.”
“That’s very gracious of you, Miss Gomez. Unfortunately, my layover there will only be for as long as it takes to refuel.” His regret was genuine. Though Alita had yet to prove her worth as an actress, she was indisputably one of the best recording artists to come along in the past decade. Her rich alto voice, low and sultry, turned a simple song into a seduction. Zach already owned both her CDs, and was looking forward to the release of the next.
“I wouldn’t mind an autograph for my daughter, however,” he suggested as an alternative. “Her name is Becky.”
“And what is yours?” Alita asked with a come-hither look.
“Zach.”
“Do you really have a daughter, or is the autograph for you? I could sign it, ‘To Zach with the sexy gold eyes.’ ”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Kelly groused. “If you want this seat so badly, Lolita, I suggest you postpone the flirtation and let me out of it. You’re blocking the aisle.”
Alita’s smile instantly transformed into a glare, which she turned toward Kelly. “My name is Alita. A-li-ta!” she stressed.
“And mine is Kelly. Kel-ly,” Kelly mimicked. “And you’re still in my way. Unless you’ve changed your mind and want to sit elsewhere.”
Though the starlet’s glower remained, she stepped back just far enough to allow Kelly to vacate the seat. As Kelly reached for the overhead compartment, the stewardess offered, “I’ll be happy to bring your things back to you later, Ma’am.”
“No thanks,” Kelly told her. “Unlike some people, I’m used to carrying my own weight, as opposed to throwing it around.”
Collecting his briefcase, Zach relinquished his own seat and followed Kelly down the aisle to the rear of the aircraft. As he settled once more into an empty seat directly opposite hers, the young black serviceman next to him leaned nearer and whispered, “Is the fox with you?”
Zach gave a low chuckle. “No such luck.”
Familiar with the phenomenon that frequently compelled travelers to converse with complete strangers—often to the point of revealing intimate details their captive audience had no wish to hear—Zach quickly removed a sheaf of papers from his briefcase, and his reading glasses from the pocket of his sport jacket, and began to study the notes on the hotel complex he was to build in Las Vegas.
Across the aisle, Kelly was biding her time until take-off. White-knuckle flyer that she was, she knew she would not be able to relax until they were airborne. Reminding herself that, statistically, more people were killed on highways than in air disasters, didn’t help ease the jitters much. To alleviate her own nervousness, she concentrated on her fellow passengers, wondering with envy how so many of them could seem so calm.
Kelly had always been an inveterate people-watcher. Not that she was particularly nosy; other people and other cultures simply intrigued her. She found the varying customs, modes of dress, languages, foods, and mannerisms fascinating. While someone else might be bored to tears upon observing a Japanese tea ceremony, Kelly would have been totally enthralled. She’d once sat practically mesmerized through a day-long presentation of Native American dances—complete with drums, chanting, and authentic costumes. Afterward, she’d incorporated some of the unique Indian artistry, the colors and patterns, into a special line of clothing for her boutique. At the Olympics in Georgia, a virtual global melting-pot, she’d ecstatically garnered many additional ideas for her business.
Now, she sat observing those around her, her sharp green gaze taking in all the subtle nuances that hinted at the character of the people around her. Coming down the aisle was a Japanese gentleman in a suit undoubtedly custom-tailored, so fine was the material and so perfect the fit, which led Kelly to think he was probably a very precise person. Behind him was a fellow, either a native Australian or a wanna-be Aussie, in a tan bush outfit and hat. Further on, blocking the passageway, was a heavy-set woman dressed in stretch pants and a horizontal-striped blouse which only accentuated her weight problem. Kelly couldn’t help but wince at the picture she presented, her fingers literally itching to take the woman in hand. A good diet and exercise program, proper clothing, and a more complimentary hairstyle, all of which were right up Kelly’s alley, would make a world of difference.
A few rows up, a young couple was trying to settle their toddler between them. The little girl, complete with toothy grin and dimples and a frilly pink jumpsuit, was absolutely precious! She was also having too much fun waving and babbling at the two elderly people in the seat behind her to want to sit down.
Kelly’s heart gave a painful twinge. She’d miscarried two years ago, and hadn’t gotten pregnant since, which was probably a blessing now, considering the divorce. Still, she looked at that darling child and felt tears stinging at the back of her eyelids. How she’d wanted a baby! A family all her own, upon which to shower all her love.
Seeing the older couple, their snow-white heads so close together, turn to each other and share an adoring smile, only made Kelly feel worse. From all indications, they had the relationship she wanted, the one she’d thought she’d had. A love so secure that it could only grow stronger through the years. Mutual devotion between life-long mates.
Kelly swiped at an errant tear, angry at herself for letting her ragged feelings get the better of her. Sniffling, she delved into her handbag for a tissue. Failing to find even one among the multitude of items overflowing the purse, she heaved a sigh of disgust.
Suddenly a white cloth appeared before her, suspended by deeply tanned fingers. She glanced to her right, into the topaz eyes of the man who’d given up his first-class seat to Alita Gomez’s manager. Zach something-or-other. He was offering her his handkerchief.
She gave a self-conscious smile. “Your mother must be very proud of you. Gentlemen are a rare breed today.”
Zach grinned back at her. “Maybe I’m not polite at all. How do you know this isn’t a flag of truce, or an offer of outright surrender?”
Kelly laughed. “For one thing, I wasn’t aware we were at war.” She accepted the handkerchief from him. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” he replied. With that, he went back to his work, affording her the privacy to properly compose herself.
Finally, everyone had boarded and the plane began to taxi away from the terminal. The steward in charge of the last several rows of passengers, a good-looking young man with red hair and soulful brown eyes, commanded their attention. He welcomed them aboard and commenced the usual speech, citing the rules about smoking, keeping their trays locked into position in front of them, and staying in their seats until the seatbelt sign went off after take-off. He continued with instructions concerning air-sick bags, flotation cushions, oxygen masks, and emergency exits, ending with, “We are here to assist you in any way we can, to make your journey comfortable and pleasant.”
In the rearmost seat, which butted up to the galley, a burly passenger grumbled, “Comfortable? Hah! That’s a laugh!” He jingled the handcuffs that bound his wrist to that of the detective seated next to him. “I can’t even blow my nose without seeing your paw in front of my face.”
“So pretend we’re Siamese twins and shut up,” the lawman advised brusquely. “I don’t like it anymore than you do, and I’m not the one who splattered my wife’s brains all over a bedroom wall, then skipped out of the country. It’s gonna be a long trip back to Tennessee, Roberts, and only slightly better if you’re not bitching the entire time.”
“So dig out the key and unhook us,” Earl Roberts suggested. “It ain’t like I can go anywhere. What do you think I’m gonna do? Open a door and throw myself out in
to the ocean? I didn’t see them handin’ out parachutes when we got on this over-sized death-trap.”
“Relax, Roberts. The 747 has an excellent safety record. And out of about two hundred passengers, as near as I can tell you’re the only one whining like a baby.”
“Maybe that’s ’cause I’m the only one tied to you. And you did some big-time gripin’ of your own when they made you turn your gun over to the pilot when we boarded.” Earl added that jab with gleeful spite. He eyed the smaller man with a sneer. “You scared, sittin’ here without your weapon, knowin’ I could strangle you with my bare hands anytime I took the notion?”
The detective met the threat with a challenging glare, not in the least intimidated. “Try it, and you’re gonna wish you did have a parachute. Nothin’ says I have to bring you back alive.”
They’d crossed the International Date Line, thus gaining a day on the calendar, and were somewhere over the Polynesian Islands, when they hit a series of thunderstorms, one after another. Though the pilot came on the intercom several times to assure everyone that there was no cause for alarm, passengers were encouraged to remain in their seats, with their seatbelts fastened. The turbulence became so great that the flight attendants had to secure the carts in the galleys. Contrarily, the rougher the weather became, the more drinks were ordered. The poor attendants were being run ragged serving alcoholic beverages to those passengers who evidently preferred being thoroughly anesthetized to being soberly aware of the frightening situation in which they now found themselves.
Many people, seasoned travelers and first-timers alike, resorted to the air-sick bags, as the aircraft lurched and bounced, and pitched through the dark, ominous clouds. The busy, friendly chit-chat that had previously permeated the atmosphere soon dissipated into whispered exchanges, quiet fervent prayers, and an ever-growing silence.
Horizons Page 1