Erika's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the last remark. He was right, the cost wouldn't be justified. She didn't plan on using a car during her month's vacation. Her eyes began searching the airport as if looking for an answer to her dilemma.
T.J. wasn't completely sure she agreed with his advice and for some reason, he was determined to drive her to the lake. Taking matters into his own hands, he grabbed her overstuffed luggage, swung his own lightweight duffel over his shoulder, and quickly walked away toward the garage where his car was parked, instinctively knowing she would follow.
Erika gazed out the windows at the stalled aircraft parked at their respective gates. The weather was so dismal she couldn’t see beyond the terminal windows. She’d never been claustrophobic but the air seemed very thick at the moment. Her mind seemed to malfunction, making it hard for her to reason properly.
There simply must be another solution, she told herself. Yet, I don't have directions, and in the fog ... well, he could be right. It could be dangerous. I definitely don't want to get lost in the mountains!
On the other hand, she continued to herself, how can I accept this stranger's offer? I don't know him, he makes me feel strange. He could even be a criminal for all I know. No, she decided, I'll just have to find another way.
Turning to relay her decision, she found herself alone. Where had he gone? After frantically searching the concourse, she realized too late how absorbed she had been in her turbulent thoughts. She hadn't even seen which way he went. The man must have realized this and taken off with her luggage. She just knew he was a thief!
The unsuccessful search left Erika fuming. She felt like childishly stamping her foot, probably because he’d treated her like one. For the second time in a week, an egotistical, self-serving man had cut her pride to the quick.
Men, she thought. They all want something from you. Your love, your pride, your name or your money. They lie in wait, seizing unexpected opportunities. The first time, I trusted too much. This time, I acted vulnerable and confused. This guy is slick, she told herself, but I'm learning. Luckily, this time he was only interested in my belongings, not my life.
Like the fog looming over the airport, Erika felt her world caving in. Locating a white paging telephone on the wall next to a candy machine, she described the stranger and his offense to airport security.
Within minutes the accused was striding purposefully toward her with a red-faced security officer lagging behind with his efforts at dragging her luggage. He appeared to be apologizing over and over.
Through an angry haze, Erika recognized the incongruous situation. She ignored a tiny niggling in her conscious and chose instead a more rewarding response, anger.
T.J. immediately noticed the eyes that once reminded him of the deep cool Mediterranean waters had now ignited and resembled an unconfined forest fire.
The girl had spunk, he grudgingly admired. Although the stunt with security almost satisfied his curiosity where she was concerned, there was still a tiny inextinguishable spark buried underneath years of cynicism. He couldn’t help himself. He simply must follow his instincts.
Before Erika could open her mouth, the officer stumbled toward her. "Excuse me, Ma'am. Guess there's been a little misunderstanding. You jus' got mixed up. I know this man, he's no thief! He is kindly taking you to your destination, remember?" he asked softly, wiping his sweaty brow. Dropping her suitcases near her feet, he turned and waddled down the isle in the opposite direction.
"I don't take too kindly to being accused of stealing," T.J. said without preamble. "The poor guy was mortified by having to question me. I fly in and out of this airport frequently," he said with growing anger. "I'll not have my reputation tainted by the likes of you. I am not a thief and am not amused by your insinuation. I only offered you a lift out of pity and out of kindness." And, curiosity, he admitted only to himself.
While he spewed, Erika couldn’t help but wonder about his occupation, his life … his involvements, allowing herself a lingering gaze at his very attractive form.
" ... and furthermore, it's a small lake and I'm sure we will run into each other if you are there for any length of time. It was, shall we say, a neighborly gesture," T.J. explained icily. "Take the offer or leave it. Just make up your mind. You've already wasted too much of my time."
After his lengthy lecture, he spun on his heal and began walking away from Erika.
T.J. didn’t know for sure if she would follow. At this point, he didn’t know if he even cared. A little angry with himself, he knew he hadn't lost anything in trying to take her to the lake. A little pride at being accused as a thief, but no lasting harm. Yet, he admitted to himself that he was a little disappointed. His sojourn into the romantic world had been brief. But, he liked it that way.
Erika was still angry, yet, good sense was prevailing. Her choices were, in fact, limited. That the stranger was known by security did make her feel the tiniest bit better. At least he wasn’t a known criminal.
Then, without another thought, Erika hurried to catch up with the man whose rude comments and poor manners unexpectedly fascinated her.
Half-grabbing and half dragging her luggage, Erika ran through the moist air, across the busy street to a small garage about a quarter of a mile from the airport. She could still catch a glimpse of him through the fog. She had a hunch he knew she was following him. She would not, however, sacrifice her pride further by calling out to him.
Finally, while waiting for the elevator, she caught up with him. Struggling with shallow breath and awkward suitcases, Erika tried to make amends for her earlier accusation. Timidly she touched his sleeve, forcing him to look down.
"I don't believe I remember asking for your help. You needn't feel obliged," although she prayed he did, "to give me a ride to the lake. You surprised me by offering me a ride and I needed a few minutes to consider your, ah, proposition. Before I knew it, you were long gone. I could only assume ... Anyway, after thinking about it, I realize this is the best solution. I want to thank you for your offer."
One look at his stony face made her gulp and add, "Is the offer still open?"
He gave no reply. When the elevator doors abruptly opened, T.J. roughly removed her luggage from her tight grip and quickly entered the vacant cubicle. As the doors began to slam, Erika jumped through only to have them crash into her already bruised shoulder.
Anger prickled again at his rudeness and Erika said frigidly, "I hope my pilot doesn't mind if he comes looking for me later, after the fog clears, and finds I'm not here. I have already paid my fare."
"He will understand," he said shortly. "I know Skip Snyder. When the weather gets bad, he doesn't take chances, even for a paying customer. Don't worry, he will reimburse you."
Exasperated, Erika retorted, "I wasn't exactly concerned about the money. I merely didn't want to inconvenience him. I have to use his services on the way home!"
"Well, a few minutes ago, I was convinced the only thing you cared about was money," he replied sarcastically.
The bell in the elevator rang three times announcing their floor. As the doors rolled open, Erika watched as the man disappeared through a row of cars fast vacating the garage. Irritated, she heaved her heavy carry-on bag and attempted to find him before the elevator could slam into her again.
This man is the epitome of rudeness, she murmured to herself. He hasn't any idea of manners, or of how to treat a lady. She knew the men back home expected favors for their attentiveness. However, she never paid for those favors. She didn’t have to. She supposed it was because they were looking for a bigger reward, the Crawford prestige and money. This man wasn't even aware of who she was. Somehow, she didn't think he would even care.
Shortly, Erika located her adversary’s head. The stubborn anger, so close to the surface, began to broil. She was out of breath again and it made her furious. He was so calm and controlled. The thought of provoking another argument gave her the added adrenaline to cover the last few steps. This time she
would win.
With a voice raised to a high pitch she yelled across the aisle of cars, "You know, making up my mind has never been difficult," she said hotly. "And, as to your rude comment about money, I always pay my way and will gladly pay for your services ... of transportation, that is," she finished with pink-stained cheeks when she realized the insinuation she’d made after his evil smile and raised eyebrows.
Embarrassment deflated the anger and stubbornness, so she kept silent while he expertly navigated through rows of cars parked in the garage.
Before she knew it, he had stopped. Several vehicles back, she couldn’t see which car was his until she cleared the previous row. Erika came to a dead stop. It couldn't be. It was worse than she could have imagined. Fear clutched at her stomach. She had made a dreadful mistake. Pride had come before sound decision making. She just couldn’t do it.
T.J. waited for her to hand him her carry-on bag. Although he was still put out by her audacity in calling security, it was quickly replaced by a sense of justice. He knew exactly what she was thinking … he recognized the look. In fact, it was the same look his Mother always gave him when he picked her up at the airport in this vehicle. Having many women family members in his life, the boyhood sense of pulling pranks had never quite lost its allure.
“Are you coming or not?” he questioned gruffly, trying diligently to hide his amusement.
Erika had lost her ability to speak. How could she have been so wrong? She just couldn’t do it. The car he was loading her luggage into was the oldest, most beat-up pile of junk she had ever laid eyes on. It appeared to be a mid 1960's white delivery vehicle. It had no windows. The paint was peeling, as was the wood paneling.
She couldn't do it, she told herself. I simply can't travel with this man I know nothing about in this broken down …thing. But as if in slow motion, he lifted her heavy carry-on bag from where she had absently dropped it. And slowly, with her heart beating in her ears, Erika gingerly opened the squeaky passenger door, all the while telling herself she needed to get out! Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if the thing was even travel worthy. What if she was stranded in the mountains with this man? Nothing could be worse, she decided.
She winced as he slammed the back hatch over her expensive belongings. Erika nervously fingered the torn vinyl seats she had sat down upon, knowing it would snag the expensive wool trousers she wore. Normally, she didn't concern herself with trivial matters, but it was different this time. At least worrying about her clothing was a tangible worry. Suddenly, her new position as President of Capital Textiles and her penthouse and her taupe Mercedes seemed very, very far away.
As the driver's door slammed, the stale air seemed to suffocate her. Every hair was standing at attention, alerted to possible danger. Knowing she would be cooped up with this unnamed man was frightening. She hesitantly glanced at her companion. Her breath caught in her throat as she once again recognized the virile strength that emanated from him.
The world seemed to seep away as the two shared the same small space. Reality of what they had done could not be easily revoked. Uncharacteristically, T.J. second-guessed himself. He felt … stuck. He couldn’t believe what he had done. And, to be honest, he knew she felt the same way. Now, they had hours of travel ahead of them and only then did he remember that he really didn’t want her to discover his identity. The car helped, he reminded himself, once again amused. But then, he glanced at her terrified face. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he was glad that her emotions showed on her face. He didn’t like women who could hide emotion. He realized, with a little pity, that she looked like a frightened doe. Her soft eyes were wide with alarm and attentive to possible danger. Unwillingly, T.J. softened.
Erika noticed her palms were a little slippery as her companion, for the next few hours, edged his truck out of the garage and negotiated the interstate.
Chapter Two
It was October in the sleepy little farm industrial city of Spokane. The soup-like fog had dissipated somewhat. Enough for Erika to notice that some of the leaves of the maple trees lining the interstate were tinged with yellow and red. A promise of things to come, a whisper of autumn and the magic of winter. Absently, she wondered what winters were like where she was going. The whirl of the engine lulled her into a sense of security. It let her mind wander and wonder many things, effectively keeping her from concentrating on her surly and uncomfortable traveling companion.
Soon, however, Erika noticed the way his jeans molded to his legs, the smell of the expensive leather coat he wore. As she became more comfortable in their mutual silence, she surreptitiously glanced at his strong profile. He seemed very capable and very … determined.
"You know," she began tentatively; "I don't even know your name. I guess we should introduce ourselves."
Erika waited with baited breath. T.J. seemed to consider her question, as if considering what his answer would be. Somewhat alarmed she consoled herself with the idea that maybe he hadn’t heard the question over the grind of the engine. She opened her mouth to try again.
"My name is, ah, Tim. Tim Morgan.”
His abruptness would by some standards be considered rude. She wanted to ask him more but noticing the tell-tale sign of a persistent throbbing muscle near his temple warned Erika to quit talking.
The man’s emotions were palpable. Instinctively, Erika felt she was in more danger than she’d ever been before in her life. She knew it wasn't physical, but perhaps emotional. She had come on this trip to put the male species behind her and that she was determined to do. Now, she was confused and frightened over her strong reaction to this stranger. His appeal was obvious … she just wished she could convince herself that good looks were only skin deep.
"So, ah, Miss," he chuckled while glancing at her left hand, "I believe you left out a part." At her surprised glance, he prompted, "The part where you introduce yourself."
Erika sat silent for a moment, considering what in fact she wanted him to know about her. A sideways glance at his practiced yet impatient expression prompted a quick response. But as her mouth opened, she stopped. It was the chance Erika had waited for … had dreamed of before leaving home. A chance for anonymity … a chance to be someone else … one month, how could it hurt? From the look of the stranger, she was fairly certain he had never heard of Crawford Industries or Capitol Textiles for sure. Yet, a warning signal flashed across her heart and mind. She swallowed through the lump … through the uncomfortable feeling she may ultimately regret this decision. It was necessary, she promised herself, as a soft smile erased the concern and Erika began to create her new identity.
"My name is Marie . . . Marie Bancroft and I live in Los Angeles. I don't have a serial number and I definitely don't have a rank. I can give you my social security number, if it's necessary, though," she finished with a shy smile.
Relaxing with her humor, T.J. began the small talk reminiscent of the sophisticated playboy most people knew him to be.
"My cottage is in Kootenai Bay," she offered after they had traveled three quarters of the way. Recalling the memorized directions given by her travel agent, she asked, "Do you know where Tobler Marina is?"
"Uh, yes, I'm fairly familiar with that part of the lake."
His brows knit together as he considered her question. He was, in fact, very familiar with Kootenai Bay. He owned it. His family had homesteaded all eight hundred acres of it in the early 1900's. Tobler Marina was his pet project. It never made any money … hardly broke even at the end of the year. But it was a service to the residents of Kootenai Bay … and to the Morgan family compound. It was Morgan style to keep everything under one roof, so to speak. He also knew there were four homes on that bay. His family's turn-of-the-century log home, their servant’s quarters, long since turned into a cottage rented through an agent, and two other year around homes occupied by employees of his. Something wasn't adding up with this woman. Either she was completely off track and turned around, or she was deliberately
lying.
"You know, there aren't many women who stay alone at Priest," T.J. began. "Do you own the cottage you're staying in?"
"Oh, no. I couldn't afford anything like that," she lied. "Actually, my friend's family owns it. They said I could use it anytime I like. They don't live around here," she added quickly.
"What is the family's name? I may have heard of them."
"Uh, it’s ...," she stalled, struggling to remember the name given by her agent. "Well, you probably wouldn't know them because they're rarely at the lake."
"Natives, such as myself, are very involved in local real estate. We want to protect the natural habitat from would be developers. So, I've at least heard the name of owners, even if I haven't met them. What did you say the name was," he pressed?
Suddenly remembering the information, she burst, "Anderson, yes, Anderson. It's a common name. I doubt you know of them," she replied. Worried that he may begin asking questions she didn't know, Erika recited verbatim the conversation with her travel agent.
"Actually, I'm only using part of their property. You see, my friend is well off and her family owns a larger log home on the property. I don't need all that room, so I'm occupying the cottage next to it."
"Anderson . . . yes, I believe I've heard of them," T.J. answered recognizing that he sat next to the unwelcome tenant who had rented his cottage for the month. He had been extremely annoyed when the agent had somehow swapped months. Normally, the cottage was never rented when a member of the family was in residence. He was upset when he learned it had been rented during his time at the lake.
T.J.'s privacy was invaluable. So much so that when renters inquired about the property, the agent was to give the name, Anderson (his Grandmother's maiden name), to ward off those interested in acquiring information about the infamous Morgan family.
Whispers of the Heart Page 2