by Dee Lloyd
Of course, no one else was in a class with the blond who was being kissed goodbye by the smooth article in the gray suit. She had that cool Scandinavian look that had always intrigued him. Her shoulder-length hair was the color of the palest yellow rose, her back slender and her bottom curved and tempting.
Mike was getting a kind of vicious satisfaction from this cold-blooded search for an acceptable woman. He continued to study every woman who passed but his eyes kept returning to the blond. Gray Suit was going a little overboard on the kiss but he was keeping his hands discreetly above the waist. Mike, however, could feel his own palms itching to cup the round firm flesh that was discreetly covered by well-tailored pale green trousers.
Whoa, Mike! An angry man could too easily get caught up in this role. Trying to steal someone else's woman had never been part of his plan. All he wanted was to salvage his vacation, and some of his pride. He felt a twinge of distaste at the self-centered male on the prowl he had decided to become.
Gray suit was still kissing her! The woman evidently was beginning to find it tedious. He watched her open one startling turquoise eye to peek at her watch. Another insincere blond. This one had Gray Suit fooled. The poor sap was probably convinced she cared about him. She had the grace to blush when she realized that Mike had caught her checking the time but he recognized her type.
There was no danger of emotional involvement with this woman. If she was taking the cruise, and if she wasn't meeting another man on the ship, she might fill the bill, not to mention the empty half of the double bed in his stateroom. His pulse quickened at the thought. Yes, it was a long shot; but if he played his cards right, there was a chance he could become intimately acquainted with that luscious body. And that was definitely something to look forward to.
At the moment, all Sara Tolberg was looking forward to was distance from Stephen. She was beyond mere annoyance at him. In spite of the fact that she had booked an airport limousine, he had insisted on driving her in from Rochester at four o'clock this morning. And now he was acting as if they were lovers parting. It wasn't that she found his embrace repulsive; she simply wasn't enjoying it. Didn't he care that she wasn't kissing him back? She tried to move away but he pulled her firmly back to him.
She would never have tolerated this display from any other man. However, since the senator's health had forced his retirement, Stephen and his fledgling political career had been very important to her father, and, of course, to her. Stephen knew very well that although she was seething, she'd never make a scene. Short of hitting him or kneeing him in the groin, she didn't know how to make him end his one-sided kiss.
She hadn't agreed to his marriage proposal, but he seemed to think that simply stating his intentions gave him some sort of rights over her. Of course, her father had led him to believe that it was just a matter of time before she came to her senses.
She managed to pull away from him and take a deep breath.
"Goodbye, Stephen," she said, patting his cheek. "You can tell the senator you got me safely to the plane."
"I will. Is there anything else I can do for you, my sweet?"
"No, nothing," she said, a little too vehemently. She lightened her reply with a laugh. After all, she reminded herself, she was fond of him. "You even provided more than my quota of kisses for the next two weeks," she added, dryly.
Stephen joined in her laughter, but though his lips smiled and his laugh lines crinkled, there was little amusement in his blue eyes.
"That was my intention," he said.
A few feet away, Mike wondered if maybe he'd heard a trace of relief in the blond's laugh when she finally ended the kiss with some sort of quip that made Gray Suit smile. She looked more approachable when she laughed.
As she was disengaging herself from Gray Suit's arms, a short, gray-haired man in a three-piece suit with a folded Wall Street Journal tucked under his arm walked briskly past them. Without a hesitation in his step, he stooped slightly, then continued on his way with the blond's briefcase in his hand.
It took Mike a full second for the theft to register and for him to shout, "Hey! Put that down."
It took even less time to get his body in motion. He was already in full flight when he heard the blond cry, "Stop him."
The gray-haired thief must be younger than he looked. He sure could run and from the way he was dodging around, he seemed to know the airport. However, Mike's deck shoes had a better grip on the tile floor than the thief's leather soles and his speed was fuelled by a completely inexpicable rage at the thief for choosing the intriguing blond as his victim. Mike had almost caught up to him when his quarry suddenly turned a corner and headed towards a door marked Airport Personnel Only.
Mike became aware that some one else had joined in the pursuit.
"Stop him!" the man who was pounding along a few feet behind him shouted.
The gray-haired man spurted towards the door. Mike put on a burst of speed and was ready to tackle him when the thief tossed his folded newspaper at Mike's face.
Mike knocked it aside easily but the unexpected move almost cost him his momentum. He cursed, then launched himself at the man just as he was yanking the door open. They crashed to the floor together and the briefcase went flying. Mike immobilized the smaller man easily with the sheer force of his weight and wrenched his arm up between his shoulder blades.
At that moment, the uniformed airport security officer overtook them, still speaking on his cordless telephone.
"Yes, we've got him. We're at the top of the northeast stairs," he panted, replacing the receiver on the hook at his belt.
"Thanks." He mopped his brow. "The lady screamed and you were already chasing this guy before I was sure what was happening. Man, you took off like a rocket."
Mike was getting to his feet, still holding the thief in an arm lock when two large men in airport uniforms emerged from the stairway. Relinquishing his prisoner to them, he brushed the dust off the knees of his pants.
The garrulous security man who had followed Mike in the chase was still talking. "I figure he's part of the gang has been working the terminal for two weeks now. It's a pretty good bet that people will keep their valuables in their carry-ons. This is the first break we've had. He looks a bit older than the descriptions we have, but the technique's the same. They've taken at least thirty pieces of hand luggage that we know of but this is the first one we've caught in the act." He stopped to take a breath. "What time's your flight?"
"Eight o'clock."
"That's good. It won't take more than a few minutes for you to give us a statement. Don't worry. You'll make your flight," he assured him as his associates snapped handcuffs on the wrists of the silent middle-aged man.
Under closer scrutiny, he looked more like a disgruntled banker than a luggage thief. The security man retrieved the briefcase from its resting place against the wall and checked the tag.
"Smart woman. She put the flight number on it. We'll see that she gets her bag on the plane."
Mike leaned closer to read the tag. The blond was on his flight. Great! Things were looking up. But, first, he had to go and make his statement. He'd learned many countries ago, that arguing with minor officials only delayed proceedings. Resigned to the inevitable, he followed the security officer to a nearby airport office where he identified the stubbornly silent thief and dictated a brief statement.
As he left the office, Mike shook his head at his impetuous action. He had completely lost his cool. Jim Greco would never believe that "good old Let's-go-over-that-again Mike" had gone tearing off after a thief without a moment's hesitation. His childhood buddy had played on Mike's patriotism a few times to get him to do an unofficial errand for the low-profile government agency that he worked for. Jim always found Mike's caution and meticulous planning for those missions amusing.
Why on earth had he gone chasing after the blond's briefcase? Was he adding grandstanding to his new playboy act? He was beginning to wonder if it was really preferable to being unde
rstanding and infinitely usable. He set his jaw. He was going to go through with it. No woman was ever again going to walk all over Mike Garson.
The boarding had not begun yet when he entered the departure lounge. He stood just inside the door and scanned the crowd for S. Tolberg. That's how the discreet little tag on her briefcase had identified her. She had even attached one of the bright blue ms Theseus tags that informed him her cabin was on Apollo Deck, the same deck as his own. Perfect.
A small group of First Class passengers were called for boarding and began filing out of the lounge. S. Tolberg was not among them. Then he spotted her. There was nothing flamboyant about her trim pale green jacket and slacks, but she drew his eye as if she had a spotlight trained on her. She was sitting quietly by the huge windows that looked out on the east-west air strip. She had a sketchbook on her lap and was rapidly sketching a little boy who was seated opposite her beside his dozing mother. So, she was an artist.
The old Mike had always avoided artistic types, thought they might be too emotional and quirky for his tastes. Maybe it was time for a change of pace. Besides, S. Tolberg didn't look either emotional or quirky. She seemed remarkably cool and self-possessed for a woman who had just been robbed.
Her briefcase was already on the seat beside her. Spotting the theft had been a stroke of luck. It gave him a good excuse to approach her.
His mouth twisted in an ironic smile. Another blond. This one was better looking than Angela. Her hair was longer and paler and her figure was definitely trimmer but she appeared to have the same talent for feigning passion as his ex-fiancée. That poor guy who'd been kissing her certainly hadn't received her full attention. She'd flushed guiltily when he'd caught her checking the time. Was she hurrying to another lover? He realized with a shock how disappointed he'd be if she was.
When the airline representative announced the boarding of the center section of the aircraft, S. Tolberg stood up. Even though Mike's seat was in the same section, he decided to wait until after she had boarded to get into line.
When she turned to pick up her briefcase, her loose blouse tightened momentarily over breasts that were at least as well-formed as her shapely derrière. He felt a slight localized surge of heat at the possiblility of getting close to her. What did he care if she had no more depth than a glossy photograph? If she was available, she might suit him very well.
He ignored the nudging of his conscience. His new attitude was totally justified, he told himself as he took his place at the end of the line. What had his considerate treatment of women ever earned him?
He'd never had any trouble attracting women, but he had been intimate with very few. He had chosen his chères amies carefully and had gone out of his way to avoid misleading them. He had made sure that each of those cherished friends understood that their romance would last only until he moved on to the next job in a few months. His recent experience with Angela had certainly opened his eyes. Those former lovers had probably been amused at his naive concern about their feelings.
His big mistake had been breaking the rule of a lifetime never to settle for second best. On his thirty-fifth birthday, he had done some serious soul-searching and accepted that as far as falling in love was concerned, he'd missed the boat. If the exciting and loving woman of his dreams existed, it was unlikely that he was ever going to find her. However, if he wanted a wife and children of his own, he would simply have to be more realistic about what he expected in a wife.
During his annual return to the States to visit with his parents last July, he'd been seduced as much by the contentment of his brothers' lives and their warm invitations to come home and join the family business as he had by Angela. He'd known her since grade school and they had dated occasionally over the years, but he hadn't slept with her until this summer.
He'd thought they were going to have a good life together built on mutual affection and trust. And they would have the home and children they both wanted. Angela had agreed to marry him in eight months' time when he finished building the power plant in Africa.
He'd lived up to his part of the bargain. The lack of passion in Angela's occasional newsy letters was no surprise. He answered in kind. But he never expected to find when he arrived home that she had eloped with her boss.
He prided himself on being a good judge of character, but he sure had misread Angela. If the little girl he had protected from bullies in grade school and who had been a good friend for over twenty years could betray his trust, what woman could be trusted?
Mike stood up abruptly and, with icy deliberation, picked up his carry-on bag. From now on, he resolved, female companions would join him at their own risk. He might be embarking on his honeymoon without a bride, but he was not going to be alone long!
Not far ahead of him, Sara was sinking into her aisle seat with a sigh of relief. She was on her way. Thank goodness, the couple who occupied the other two seats in the row were so obviously wrapped up in each other that they wouldn't try to make conversation with her. It wasn't even eight o'clock, but already it had been a long difficult morning.
Even at the unearthly hour she'd had to check in, the terminal had been jammed with excited holidayers eager to escape winter's last few unpleasant gasps. Then, she certainly hadn't expected Stephen, surrounded by those crowds of gawking people, to be so determined to make an exhibition of them both with his overly long goodbye kiss. The attempt to steal her briefcase topped it all off. The thief would have been disappointed to find it only contained a change of clothes, her journal, a sketchbook and a paperback novel. No jewels. She touched her mother's pearls at her throat. Apart from them, she wore only costume jewellery. Even though her case had been returned and no damage was done, the episode left her uneasy.
Disturbing, too, had been the large tanned man who had chased the thief. Before she'd even seen him, she'd been uncomfortably aware of his eyes on her. With her anger at Stephen growing second by interminable second, she'd peeked at her watch. And those penetrating obsidian eyes had held her pinned for an embarrassing moment. A moment that was long enough to imprint his image firmly in her mind. With those mesmerizing eyes and his longish dark hair bound with a leather thong at the back of his neck, he was an imposing sight.
Then the owner of those critical eyes had sprung into action like an attack dog when the thief took off with her case. By the time she had realized what was going on, it was too late for her to chase him herself. She took a long, deep breath and forced herself to relax. This was the first moment she'd had to herself since she opened her eyes this morning.
If she ever saw the man with the eyes again, she'd have to thank him. Sara had never been easily intimidated but she had to admit that she would prefer not to face the full force of the stranger's personality just yet. She didn't think he'd been in the departure lounge. With any luck, he was bound for some other destination and their paths would never cross.
Just thinking about his glowering black eyes made her shiver. That was ridiculous. On her worst day, she could face down an angry, even belligerent, union leader. The way she was overreacting to a man who had never even spoken to her showed how much she really needed this vacation. His glare probably had nothing to do with her anyway. Maybe his morning had been just as frustrating as hers. She picked up her novel.
As she opened the paperback, someone in the aisle brushed against her arm.
"Sorry," a male voice said.
As if she had conjured him up, the darkly-tanned man with the snapping black eyes stood towering over her. He was folding his jacket into the overhead storage compartment. The friendly smile that beamed down on her changed his broad face completely. It was surprisingly attractive.
"I see airport security returned your case."
His voice was deep and considerably warmer than she expected. The resonance in his bass voice struck a responsive chord that vibrated deep inside her.
"It's you!" she blurted. Where was the cool control that she could usually maintain through endless hour
s of negotiations?
"Thank you for getting it back for me. Most people wouldn't want to get involved." My goodness, he was big! With his flat midriff at eye level, she could see he didn't carry an ounce of flab on his muscular frame.
"I'm relieved you weren't injured rescuing my briefcase," she babbled. "There wasn't anything in it worth getting hurt for. Though I am thankful to have my book."
She waved the thick paperback at him. Sara knew she sounded as if she'd never seen an attractive man before. But his silent condemnation in the terminal had thrown her off-balance.
"I'm glad I could help," he said, closing the lid on the overhead bin with a loud snap. "I'll let you get back to your reading now. Maybe you'll join me for a drink on board ship?"
He was polite and charming but there was a twinkle in his eye. He was amused that he made her nervous.
"I'd like that," she replied. She watched him sit down across the aisle a couple of rows away. Wouldn't you know he was taking the cruise, too!
Sara lowered her eyes to her book. She was still embarrassed at how blasé and insensitive she must have appeared earlier. She was being ridiculous. Why was she getting herself into this state about a stranger's opinion? She was probably the only single woman on this plane who wasn't hoping to meet an attractive man. A fleeting glance across the aisle assured her that the man in question was reading his newspaper, totally oblivious to the impact he had made on her.
Anyway, he wasn't the man she was supposed to be thinking about. She winced at the memory of her attempt to muster some enthusiasm for Stephen's kiss. She was fond of him. He knew that. What he refused to accept was that probably all she would feel for him. Was that enough to base a marriage on? She had been totally honest with him about her feelings, but he was sure that she could learn to love him. Her father was equally determined that she should marry him.