by Laura Taylor
** ** **
After topping off the fuel tanks and conducting a pre–flight inspection of the helicopter, Nicholas and Hannah lifted off from the helo pad for the trip to the small Lake Tahoe Regional Airport, which housed an executive center for private aircraft.
The increasingly inclement weather forced Nicholas to devote nearly all of his attention to piloting the aircraft. Hannah felt his periodic glances and the press of his gloved hand when he reassuringly squeezed her fingers several times during their flight.
Once he settled the helicopter on the tarmac near a private hangar, Hannah noticed the armed security personnel stationed around the building and a sleek small jet that was being refueled.
"Stay put," he said as he removed his headset and released the harness across his chest.
She nodded. Then, she watched as he exited the helicopter and jogged over to a stocky, auburn–haired man clad in a heavy leather flight jacket similar to the one Nicholas wore. The two men spoke briefly before they shook hands. Less than a minute later, Nicholas helped her out of the helicopter and guided her toward the waiting aircraft, a white, French–made Falcon 50 jet.
He took her things as she climbed the short flight of stairs, and then he followed her into the interior of the plush aircraft. After stowing her carry–on luggage, he returned to her side, knelt beside her, and fastened her seat belt.
The pilot boarded the aircraft, nodded at Hannah after giving her a curious look, and then disappeared into the cockpit. A second man soon joined him.
Nicholas clasped her hands and met her gaze. "You’ll be in St. Louis in less than three hours. A limo will be waiting for you, and the driver will take you to the hospital. He’ll be at your disposal for as long as you need him."
She felt vaguely shell–shocked by her current situation. "There’s so much I want to say to you, but I can’t seem to find the right words," she whispered, her heart in her eyes as she looked at him.
"You don’t need to say anything, Hannah. Just focus on your Mom. Everything else will fall into place."
She gripped his hands. "Why don’t I believe you?"
He smiled, his expression grim. "Call me if you need anything. Anything at all. My private number’s in your cell phone contact list. I care…" He broke off, then continued after a long pause. "I care about you, and I want you to be happy."
"I’m happy with you, Nicholas," she said in a small voice.
He squeezed her hands, leaned forward, and kissed her. She trembled beneath the pressure of his open–mouthed caress and the predatory thrust of his tongue. Sensations provoked by his darting tongue and the heated branding of her lips cascaded through her. She gripped his shoulders, panicked by the thought that she might never see him again.
Hannah suddenly realized that he possessed the power to make certain that their paths never crossed again. She knew he would never deny her access to Sean, but he could and would, if he felt it was the right thing to do, disappear completely from her life.
He released her lips and brought one of his hands up to the side of her face. She covered his hand with her own.
"Make me a promise," she said, the plane’s engines spooling up and almost drowning out the sound of her voice.
"If I can."
"You can," she insisted.
He nodded. "What’s the promise?"
"Never forget how very much I love you."
He muttered an oath, looking as though she’d just slapped him across the face.
"Promise me, Nicholas, or I’ll get off this plane and hound you for the rest of my life."
He shook his head in obvious amazement, nodded, and then he heaved himself to his feet. "That’s not something I’m likely to forget, little girl." He peered down at her. With a final stroke of her cheek with his fingertips, he said, "I promise."
She watched him walk away. Her gaze stayed fastened on him as he paused at the entrance to the cockpit, spoke a few final words to the pilot and co–pilot, and then exited the aircraft. He didn’t look back. Not once.
Hannah closed her hands around the book in her lap, her knuckles white with tension. She bowed her head to hide her tears as Nicholas folded up the exterior door, shoved it into position, and slammed his fist against the exterior panel to signal the crew. Her tears persisted long after the co–pilot reappeared, locked the door, and then ducked back into the cockpit.
Take–off occurred soon after. As she battled for control of her emotions—at first, a losing battle—Hannah half–listened to the crew’s conversation with the tower, although she couldn’t really make out the words. Once the aircraft hurtled down the runway, lifted off, and achieved level flight, she loosened her seatbelt and shrugged out of her coat.
Hannah eventually opened her book, desperate to distract herself from the sense of abandonment she felt. She read until the co–pilot, also a fit–looking man in his mid–forties, offered her refreshments halfway through the flight. Hannah noticed that his gaze repeatedly snagged on the cover of her book, but when she questioned if he’d read it, he hastily excused himself from the passenger cabin and returned to his duties.
Although baffled by his behavior, Hannah continued to read. She found unexpected comfort in the story, because it engaged both her emotions and her imagination.
The time passed quickly. When the charter flight landed, the cockpit crew escorted her to the limo that awaited her at the edge of the tarmac. She assumed that they were following Nicholas’s instructions. The driver took her luggage and stowed it in the trunk.
Hannah shook hands with both men. "When you speak to our mutual friend, tell him not to worry. I’ll be alright."
The pilot and co–pilot exchanged glances.
Hannah sensed their reluctance to promise her anything in the uncomfortable expressions on their faces, so she simply smiled. "Never mind, I’ll tell him myself. Thank you for helping me to get home, gentlemen."
"Anytime, ma’am," said the pilot. "And in the event that I run into our mutual friend, I intend to tell him that he’s a very fortunate man."
Hannah’s smile faded. "He’s a very lonely man, but he seems to want to remain that way." Turning away from them, she stepped into the limo.
The driver closed the door as she sank back against the seat cushion, her exhaustion apparent in the smudges of fatigue beneath her green eyes. The driver started the car, exited the airport facility designated for private aircraft, and joined the traffic headed into the city.
Hannah stared at the passing scenery, but all she really saw was the image of man with a hard–featured face and lonely, steel–colored eyes. It was then she realized that the two men who’d flown her to St. Louis had had eyes like his, eyes far too old for men of their ages.
As the limo neared the hospital, Hannah started to feel guilty. She couldn’t get Nicholas out of her mind. He continued to dominate her every thought and emotion. He had become as essential to her as air and sunshine. He always would be, even if they never saw each other again.
11
After adding the limo driver’s cell number to her phone list and pointing out the location of the coffee shop to him once they arrived at the hospital, Hannah took the elevator to the cardiac unit. She made her way to her mother’s room without bothering to stop at the nurse’s station.
When she saw that the light was still on, she entered the room. She paused to flash a smile at the nurse who stood at her mother’s bedside, removing a blood pressure cuff.
The woman motioned her forward. "You have a visitor, Mrs. Cassidy. One of your daughters, I believe."
"Hi, Mom." Taking her hand, Hannah leaned down and kissed her brow. She used every bit of her inner strength to conceal the concern she felt as she took in her mother’s frail appearance.
"I’m glad you’re finally here," whispered the older woman.
Pausing in the open doorway of the hospital room, the nurse cleared her throat. "Don’t stay more than a few minutes. I just gave her something to help her to relax.
She needs to be rested for tomorrow morning."
Hannah nodded her understanding before she sank down into the chair at her mother’s bedside.
"How was your trip?" asked Jessica Cassidy.
"Good, Mom. Very good."
Relief shone in the faded green of the older woman’s eyes. "Sean? You found him?"
"Yes. In fact, I spoke to him earlier today. He’s alive and safe." Certain God would forgive her a harmless lie, she said, "He asked me to tell you that he loves you, and he’s very sorry you’ve been so worried about him. He didn’t mean for that to happen."
"Is he…"
Hannah smoothly cut in, "It took forever to find him, Mom, but you know how stubborn I can be when I set my mind on a goal. Sean used to compare me to a dog with a bone, and I’m afraid he was right." She laughed, forcing the sound past a throat that ached with all of the emotions of a truly difficult day. "Anyway, back to your eldest son. He lives in a really remote part of northern Nevada, which is why I had such a tough time locating him. He has several good friends there, people he can count on if he has problems, and he’s built himself a log cabin at the foot of one of the most beautiful mountains you’ve ever seen. You’d love it there, Mom. The air is crystal clear, the trees seem like they’re a hundred miles tall, and the snowflakes are as big as cotton balls."
With her mother close to drifting off to sleep, Hannah continued to speak quietly about Sean for another few minutes. She waited until the older woman was breathing deeply before she released her hand, kissed her cheek, and tiptoed out of the hospital room.
Hannah kept her emotions under control while the limo driver transported her to her condominium. Finally alone, she carried her luggage and purse to her bedroom, stripped off her clothes as she walked into the bathroom, and wearily climbed into the shower.
As she stood under the hammering force of the hot water, she wept for Sean’s broken psyche, for their mother, and because she missed Nicholas so much. Then, she became angry with herself for being such a crybaby. This wasn’t the time to fall apart, although she silently vowed to allow herself plenty of time for a pity party at some later date.
After unpacking, Hannah crawled into bed with her St. Gregory book. She read until she felt relaxed enough to sleep. But much to her frustration, she spent much of the night dreaming about Nicholas and the intimacy they’d shared. She awakened near dawn, hungry for the feel of Nicholas’s naked body entwined with hers and still hugging her copy of TENDER IS THE MERCY OF A LOVER.
After dressing, checking the stack of mail her neighbor had brought in for her, and eating a light breakfast, she called the hospital to confirm that her mother had gone into surgery on schedule.
Hannah carried the novel with her when the limo driver deposited her at the entrance to the hospital a few hours later. It became her talisman, and she suspected it was because she repeatedly identified personality traits and speech patterns in the hero that reminded her of Nicholas. Crazy, she knew, but she kept the book with her at all times.
She read sporadically when she wasn’t pacing the corridor outside the waiting room or glancing at her watch during the course of the long day. She finished the story late that afternoon, but instead of the satisfaction she normally derived upon completing a St. Gregory novel, she felt even more emotionally unsettled than ever.
Following eleven and a half hours of surgery, her mother’s cardiologist announced to the Cassidy family, which had gathered in the waiting room to await the outcome, that all had gone well. They welcomed his cautious optimism.
Hannah excused herself, found a pay phone, and called the private number Nicholas had given to her. His voice mail clicked on after just one ring, an electronic voice that bore no resemblance to Nicholas’s sexy growl asking her to leave a message.
Although disappointed that she couldn’t speak to him, she left a message, "This is Hannah. My flight home was trouble–free. Your friends were very kind to me. Mom’s surgery just ended, and she’s in cardiac recovery. The procedure took more than eleven hours, but the surgeon is cautiously optimistic. When I have more news, I’ll call with an update." After a brief hesitation, she said, "I miss you, Nicholas," before she severed the connection.
** ** **
Four days later Hannah and her younger sister sat together in the cardiac intensive care unit’s waiting room. Jessica Cassidy was periodically alert, but she still required constant monitoring.
Hannah and her younger sister, Sarah, who’d taken emergency family leave from her work as a police officer, maintained a daily vigil at the hospital and kept everyone abreast of her progress. Other family members took turns relieving them during the evening hours.
"How many times are you going to reread that book?" Sarah asked Hannah with obvious exasperation. "You must have memorized the whole thing by now."
She glanced up from a particular passage near the end of the story that kept stirring something in her sub–conscious mind, even though she couldn’t figure out exactly why. "What?"
"Get a grip, girl. There are some terrific looking men wandering the halls of this hospital, and you’re ignoring them all. Are you really my sister?"
She frowned. "No interest. They’re all yours, baby girl."
Sarah hooted with laughter, her humor contagious enough to make the other people in the waiting room smile at her. A leggy redhead with a perfect peaches and cream complexion, she’d just completed her rookie year as a police officer, although she looked more like high fashion model material.
"What exactly happened to you in Nevada? You haven’t said two words about your trip, other than the fact that you located Sean."
"Nothing happened, Sarah. Nothing at all." She returned her attention to the book, rereading a line that tweaked a recent memory.
A few minutes later her sister breathed, "Oh, my." When she received no response, she elbowed Hannah. "That guy definitely gets an A plus."
Annoyed, Hannah didn’t look up from her book. She simply elbowed Sarah right back, hissing, "Will you quit grading every man who walks down the hallway? You sound like an adolescent in the midst of a hormonal crisis."
"He’s not a doctor."
Hannah shrugged. "Maybe he’s a nurse."
"Not with two armed bodyguards trailing behind him."
Hannah froze. Bodyguards? She peered at her sister. "What did you just say?"
Sarah spoke out of the side of her mouth. "They’re carrying concealed weapons. Hope they’ve got permits for them." She laughed softly. "Mister A plus can’t take his eyes off you. Smile, Hannah, cause the big guy is coming our way. God, would you look at those shoulders! Talk about sexy and dangerous in one perfect package."
Hannah turned in her chair and glanced in the direction of the waiting room doorway. She felt her heart stutter to a stop in her chest.
Too stunned to move, her voice reflected her shock when she whispered, "Nicholas?"
Looking more delicious than he had any right to in his three piece navy pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt, and a hand–painted silk tie, he paused before her and extended his hands. Hannah snapped shut her book, shoved it at her sister, and reached out to him. The warmth of his touch reassured her that he was real, not some figment of her imagination.
Her heart raced. She felt alive again for the first time in days. He tugged her to her feet, his eyes sweeping over her features like a man starved for the sight of her. Hannah made no effort to conceal the hunger she felt for him.
Sarah cleared her throat. "What’s going on?"
Hannah laughed, and then bit her lip when she heard the faintly hysterical note in her own laughter. She glanced down at her sister. "This is the man whose voice you liked so much."
Sarah whistled, one of her less feminine traits, according to her sisters and mother. "Now I know why you didn’t want to come home." She grinned at Nicholas.
He nodded at her with a brusqueness that confirmed he hadn’t even noticed her endless legs or brilliant smile. His attention remaine
d totally focused on Hannah.
"Don’t let this guy get away, sis. He qualifies as a keeper."
"Can we speak privately?" Nicholas asked.
His low voice rumbled over her, reminding her of the sensuality they’d reveled in less than a week ago. "Of course."
He slipped his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the waiting room.
Sarah grinned and abandoned her chair. She trailed after the bodyguards, who maintained a clear view of Nicholas while also respecting his privacy. Never one to ignore attractive, dangerous looking men, Sarah asked to see their weapons’ permits after displaying her badge as a member of the local law enforcement community.
Nicholas had escorted Hannah down the hospital corridor, where they now stood just outside the intensive care cubicle that housed Mrs. Cassidy.
"What are you doing here?" Hannah asked, her concern for his safety apparent when she glanced at the two armed men hovering nearby.
"I’ve brought a letter for your mother from Sean."
"Nicholas… should you… " she began.
He settled his hands on her shoulders. "It’s fine."
"Why not FedEx his letter to me?"
"I’ve never been to St. Louis. Interesting place, from what I’ve seen of it." He smiled at the consternation in her eyes. "I’m going to spend a few minutes with your mother. Wait here for me, alright?"
"You don’t even know her."
He smoothed his fingertips across her cheek, his light caress reaching into her heart as she looked up at him. "Sean asked me to deliver it personally and then read it to her if the need arose. And I expect to get to know her quite well in the years ahead." He frowned as he took in her hollow cheeks and the shadows beneath her eyes. "You’ve lost weight. Aren’t you feeling well?"
She huffed out a gust of air, baffled by his presence and his concern. He’d just admitted that he was in St. Louis because of Sean, not because he’d missed her or wanted to be with her.