Falling For A Stranger

by Barbara Freethy

  If only he'd been able to save Ria.

  "Visibility is decreasing. Wind gusting to 25 knots," his copilot, Tim, said.

  He nodded. "Five minutes."

  "Three," Tim said.

  He gave Tim a quick look. "Whatever it takes."

  Tim frowned but didn't contradict him.

  "Victim one is on board," the flight mechanic said. "Cage is going back down."

  Despite his boastful claim of five minutes, Drew knew they had less time than that. The weather conditions were worsening by the second and saving the other man could cost everyone on the helicopter their lives.

  "Damn," Tim swore. "Victim two is in the water."

  "Swimmer is going after him," the flight mechanic said.

  The helicopter bounced and rolled. Drew battled with the controls.

  "We've got to go," Tim said tersely.

  "We'll make it," Drew said confidently, refusing to believe in any other scenario.

  The helo bucked again.

  "No time left," Tim said. "Call him in."

  "I'm not leaving her," he said tersely as he fought to bring the helicopter back under control.

  "Swimmer has the victim. We're bringing them up," the flight mechanic said.

  It was a long minute before the second victim and the swimmer were on board, and then Drew headed for home.

  When they landed, an ambulance was waiting, and the survivors were taken to the hospital to get checked out. It didn't appear that anyone had life-threatening injuries.

  Drew finished his post-flight responsibilities and then exited the helo. The rain had stopped and the winds had decreased. It looked like the storm was on its way east.

  As he stepped onto the tarmac, and took off his headset, Tim gave him an irritated look. "What the hell was that, Callaway?"

  "What's your problem?"

  "My problem is you." Tim glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. "You like to push the envelope; so do I. But what you did risked the life of everyone on board."

  "We made it back safely."

  "This time."

  "This time is all I care about," Drew said sharply. He started to walk away, but Tim was right on his heels.

  "And what I care about is this reckless streak you're on," Tim said, grabbing him by the arm.

  He shrugged Tim away. "I was doing my job. If you don't have the guts for what we do, maybe you're the one with the problem."

  "You said I'm not leaving her. There wasn't a woman in sight."

  "So I misspoke."

  "Did you?" Tim gave Drew a pointed look. "You were talking about the woman on the island, weren’t you?"

  "No."

  "Bullshit! She's been on your mind for over a year. You can't get over how she died so suddenly."

  "What do you want me to say?"

  "I want you to tell me that you're not going to keep trying to rescue a woman who is already dead. You have to let her go. You have to stop seeing her on every damn boat in trouble. You're not making smart decisions, and you know it. This isn't the first time that you've taken too many risks."

  Tim's gaze bored into his, and Drew couldn't deny the truth. For a few minutes back there, he had been thinking about Ria and not the fishermen they'd been sent to rescue.

  "I've never seen any woman get to you the way she did," Tim added, shaking his head in bewilderment. "And so fast, too."

  Ria had gotten under his skin in a way no other woman had. Part of him wanted to chalk it up to the island, the warm tropical breezes, the heady rum drinks, but he hadn't been drunk that night, and neither had Ria.

  "I thought you were getting your head together," Tim continued. "But you're back to where you were right after you left the island."

  "I was moving on. But then…" He hesitated, knowing he was about to sound like a lunatic.

  "Then what?" Tim prodded, curiosity in his gaze.

  "I thought I saw her at Fisherman's Wharf," he confessed.

  Tim's eyes widened in surprise. "She's dead, Drew."

  "Well, she appeared very much alive to me. Her hair was brown not blonde, but her face was exactly the same, and when she looked at me, she stiffened. I couldn't see her eyes, she was too far away, but I could feel her recognition."

  "You could feel it?"

  "I know it sounds—"

  "Crazy?" Tim asked, cutting him off. "So what happened next? Did you talk to this woman?"

  "I lost her in the crowd."

  "If she recognized you, why didn't she stop to talk to you?"

  He couldn't answer that question. "I don't know."

  "You do know. It wasn't her. Whatever you thought you saw was just your imagination. Just like today, when you believed a balding forty-year-old fisherman was your hot blonde bartender."

  "It wasn't like today." His jaw tightened. "I didn't see her on that boat, but I did see her on the wharf."

  "You saw what you wanted to see. You're obsessed with her. I'm sorry now I ever took you to the island. I wanted you to relax and have some fun with no strings attached. That's what most people do when they go down there."

  "That was my plan, too," he said. "And if she hadn't died so suddenly, maybe I wouldn't still be thinking bout her. But ever since I saw her a few months ago, I've been wondering if she somehow escaped the fire."

  "Seriously?"

  He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes. I called her former employers at the bar and the charter boat service."

  "And?"

  "They confirmed that she was dead, no miraculous rescue."

  "How much more evidence do you need?"

  "None," he said shortly. "Look, you don't need to worry about it."

  "I'm worried about you."

  "I will be fine."

  "Maybe I should talk to my friends down there, see if I can get any information on her."

  "Like what?"

  "I don't know," Tim said. "Maybe she has a twin sister living in San Francisco. What was her name?"

  "Ria Hastings."

  "Do you know anything else about her?"

  "We didn't do a lot of talking that night."

  Tim gave him a knowing smile. "She was one beautiful woman. She didn't give me the time of day."

  "Why would she? You were wasted and surrounded by women."

  Tim laughed. "True. I had a great time down there, as I always do. I love that island. Every visit is better than the last. The women are beautiful and free-spirited, and the rum flows like water."

  "I don’t think I'll be making any return trips."

  "I'll ask around," Tim said. "It can't hurt."

  "Whatever."

  "What are you doing the rest of the day?" Tim asked as they started walking toward the building.

  "Family birthday party this afternoon. My nephew, Brandon, is turning six."

  "Is that the kid with autism?"

  "Yeah. The party is really for my sister, Nicole, who tries to make Brandon's life as normal as possible, whether he likes it or not."

  "Rough gig."

  "I'll say. What about you?"

  "I'm going to take a run this afternoon, then hit the clubs in North Beach with Paul tonight. Why don't you come with us?"

  "I'll think about it," he said, not particularly excited by the idea. He was over the club scene. Same people, same drunken conversations.

  "Another woman might take your mind off Ria," Tim suggested.

  "So far that hasn't worked," he muttered.

  "You haven't met the right woman."

  As Tim walked away, his words ran around in Drew's head.

  He had met the right woman. She just wasn't alive anymore.

  * * *

  "Tory? Tory!"

  Ria turned abruptly at the sound of sixteen-year-old Megan's impatient voice. "Sorry, what did you say?"

  "I said—what do you think of the dress, Aunt—I mean, Tory," she stumbled. "Sorry."

  "It's okay," she said quickly, not wanting to dwell on Megan's small slip. It hadn't done any dama
ge. There was no one else outside the dressing room in the small boutique. She focused her attention on the very tight, bright red mini dress that barely covered Megan's ass. She realized she'd been lost in dreamland a little too long. Their shopping expedition to pick out Megan's prom dress had gone way off track. She shook her head. "No, absolutely not."

  "I think I look pretty," Megan said defensively.

  "You look like a stripper."

  Megan made a face at her. "You're starting to sound like my mother." As the words left her mouth, a guilty expression filled Megan's dark eyes, along with angry tears. She turned and ran back to the dressing room.

  Ria let out a breath at Megan's abrupt exit. Her niece's meltdown was partly her fault. She'd been distracted all morning. Actually, she'd been distracted for the past five months, ever since she'd seen Drew Callaway at Fisherman's Wharf.

  After leaving the island, she'd put the tall, handsome pilot out of her mind. At least, she'd tried to do that, but their night together had been so passionate and amazing. The chemistry between them had shocked her, and in a way it had freed her, too. For a few hours, she'd just been a twenty-seven-year-old woman on a beautiful tropical island in the arms of a gorgeous man.

  Then the morning had arrived, and with the sun had come reality. She'd put her plan into action, and as far as anyone knew she was dead.

  It had all been working perfectly until she'd seen Drew last October. Despite the fact that she'd dyed her blonde hair brown, he'd recognized her. He'd picked her out of a crowd of tourists, and he'd come after her.

  She'd panicked and run. Fortunately, she'd lost him. But ever since that day, she'd worried that she'd run into him again. The fact that she hadn't yet should have made her less tense, but in some ways she felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time she saw a man in aviator glasses with wavy brown hair, she stiffened. Every time she turned a corner, she wondered if she'd run into him.

  She needed to get over it—get over him.

  Walking to the window, she glanced out at the San Francisco waterfront. The morning rain had disappeared, and the sun was breaking through the last few remaining clouds. Tourists filled the streets, and as usual, there was a festive air in this part of the city. She'd come to San Francisco because it was one of the few places where she'd felt safe in her life. She could also blend into the crowd and do the one thing she was really good at—sail boats.

  Unfortunately, San Francisco was also Drew's home. She had considered that fact when she'd brought Megan here, but she'd thought the odds of running into him in such a large city were very long. She'd been wrong.

  After she'd lost Drew on the wharf that day, she'd gone home and told Megan that they needed to leave town. She'd had their suitcases packed and ready to go, but for the first time in over a year Megan had balked. She'd argued and cried and begged Ria to let them stay in San Francisco. They'd been on the road a long time. Megan had been in two different schools, and they'd already changed apartments four times.

  Megan was insistent that they stay put. She was finally making friends, fitting in, and Ria could see the difference in her niece. When they'd first left the island, Megan had been a terrified girl who shrank from shadows and woke up in the night screaming or in tears. But over the months, she'd lost her haunted, hollowed look. She'd started to feel safe, and she'd blossomed into a beautiful young woman.

  Ria had weakened under the onslaught of tears and pleas. How could she take away the life her niece was just starting to enjoy?

  Deep inside, she knew it was probably a mistake, but she'd agreed to stay until June. Then they would re-evaluate. Hopefully, she would never see Drew again. The one thing she knew for sure was that she could not have anyone from her past in her present.

  Ria turned away from the window as Megan reentered the room wearing a long, silky, soft pink gown that clung to her curves and looked beautiful against her olive skin and dark brown hair. Megan had grown two inches in the last year and her shorter hairstyle gave her a more sophisticated look.

  It had been traumatizing for Megan to have seven inches of her hair cut off, especially since her favorite memories of her mother were the times they'd spent together before bedtime, when Megan's mother, Kate, would brush the tangles out of Megan's long, thick hair.

  But Ria knew that her sister would have shaved her daughter's head if it meant keeping her safe. So Ria had done what she needed to do.

  "Well?" Megan asked, a need for approval in her uncertain gaze.

  "You look gorgeous," she said with a reassuring smile. "Really beautiful. You'll take Eric's breath away."

  Megan beamed at the compliment. "Do you think so?"

  "I do." She suspected that the somewhat shy and awkward Eric would be speechless when he saw the stunning teenager in front of her. "This dress is a winner."

  "It's a lot of money," Megan said. "Can we afford it?"

  Ria hadn't checked the price tag yet, but she would find a way to make it work. "Absolutely. It's the prom. We'll make it work."

  Megan ran over to her and threw her arms around her. "Thank you," she said, squeezing her tight.

  "You're welcome."

  As Megan stepped back, her gaze clung to Ria's. "I'm not just talking about the dress."

  "I know." Moisture gathered in her eyes at the grateful look on her niece's face. "Why don't we celebrate finding the perfect dress with the perfect burger?"

  "Sounds good. I'll change," Megan said, then returned to the dressing room.

  Ten minutes later, Ria's wallet was a lot lighter, but it was worth it to see the light of happiness in Megan's face. Ria just wished her sister could have been here to see her daughter so excited about the upcoming dance. Unfortunately, she couldn't turn back time, no matter how much she wanted to.

  They walked out of the store and down the street to Capone's Burgers, named after the famous outlaw who had ended up in Alcatraz, the island prison in the middle of the bay. Capone's appealed to both locals and tourists, who came to the restaurant not only for the great burgers but also to catch a glimpse of the prison memorabilia.

  Ria and Megan slid into a booth and ordered their usual burger, fries and soda. While they waited for their food, Megan pulled out her phone and began to text.

  The sight of Megan on her phone, being a typical teenager, made Ria both happy and afraid. In the first few months after they'd left the island, neither one of them had kept a phone or had a credit card or a bank account. But as time passed, Ria had used the false identification papers she'd purchased almost two years earlier to set up a life for them. They couldn't exist in the world without establishing records. Ria needed to work and pay taxes and have health insurance, and Megan needed to be registered at the school. Every time Ria signed a form, she felt apprehensive, but she simply couldn't avoid some links to technology; she just preferred to keep them as minimal as possible.

  Megan looked up and frowned. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," she said quickly.

  "It's the phone, isn't it?"

  "How many people have that number?"

  "Only a few," Megan mumbled.

  Ria was twenty-eight years old, and while she might not have been a teenager in a while, she did remember a time when she'd had dozens of contacts on her cell phone. "Just be careful."

  "I'm always careful," Megan said, a hint of anger in her dark eyes. "But what's the point of being free, if I can't do anything?"

  "It's not for forever."

  "Don't you ever get tired of pretending?"

  "I can't afford to get tired. And neither can you."

  "It's been a long time. Do you really think anyone is still looking for me?"

  "I hope not, but I don't know. So after the prom, you're going to lose that phone and get a new number."

  Megan made a face at her. "Great. Eric will think I'm an idiot. Who loses their phone three times in six months?"

  Ria gave her niece a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure as long as you give him your
new number, he won't care. He's crazy about you."

  "I like him, too." Megan cocked her head to the right and gave Ria a thoughtful look. "Have you ever been in love?"

  The question took her by surprise. "I—I don't know," she mumbled.

  "You don't know?" Megan asked doubtfully. "Wouldn't you know if you had been in love?"

  Her mind flashed to Drew. But that was silly. She'd known him for less than twenty-four hours. Love didn't happen that fast. Did it?

  "Tory?"

  "There was a guy, but I didn't know him long enough to fall for him. We didn't have a chance to see where things would go."

  "Do you still think about him?"

  "Maybe once in a while," she admitted, knowing that once in a while had turned into pretty much every day since she'd seen him at the wharf.

  Megan's gaze turned serious. "You've given up a lot for me."

  She had given up a lot: her life, her identity, everything. But so had Megan. "You're worth it, honey. We're family. You're stuck with me forever."

  "Forever doesn't seem as long as it used to," Megan said with the wisdom that came from experiencing too much tragedy at too young of an age.

  Ria had no answer to that statement. They'd both learned how fragile life could be.

  Fortunately, Megan's attention was drawn to her phone, and in typical teenage fashion she was distracted by the latest text from one of her friends.

  Ria wished she could find the same kind of escape, but she couldn't let herself forget that they were living in a house built of cards, and one wrong move could bring it all tumbling down.

  Chapter Three

  After getting off work, Drew drove across town to his parents' house. He wasn't big on family events, and with the Callaways, there was always some kind of celebration happening, but this party was for Brandon and Nicole, and the two of them could certainly use as much support as they could get.

  Brandon had been diagnosed with autism almost three years ago, and while there had been some minimal improvement in his communication skills, Brandon was still very much locked in his head. It was such a change from when he was a baby. It was like someone had turned off a switch in his brain at the age of three. And no matter how hard Nicole and the doctors worked to turn that switch back on, nothing generated improvement.