by Jane Peart
She had to leave early the next morning to catch the first flight out, which usually was not as crowded as the later ones. It was a relief to have no trouble getting a seat. She got on board, settled into a seat, adjusted it to a lounging position, and tucked a pillow behind her head, preparing to sleep all the way back to Atlanta. She was scheduled to work a later flight that day and needed to rest.
Her seat was in the rear of the plane near the galley, and she could hot help overhearing the conversation between the two stewardesses working the flight. She had asked at the ticket counter who would be working the flight but did not know either of the names. Robbie was half drowsing and not even conscious of listening, but she came wide awake when she heard the name Tyler Lang.
“I hear he’s off the available list,” one of the stews said.
“How so?”
“New interest.”
“Oh, that! Give him another few weeks.”
“The word is that it’s already lasted two months.”
“Well—” The other girl’s drawn-out reply was, underlined with doubt. “I’ve never known his flings to last over six weeks at the longest.”
“Want to bet?”
“I’d be crazy to at those odds.”
They both laughed and went on to another subject.
All her life, Robbie had heard the expression, “eavesdroppers never hear well of themselves.” As her ears actually began to tingle, she realized it must be true. She slid further down in her seat, even though the two stewardesses could not possibly know that she was the subject they had been discussing. She hated the thought of being a topic of gossip.
It was raining when the plane landed in Atlanta and Robbie took a cab out to her apartment.
As she unlocked the door and went in, the phone was ringing. She set down her suitcase and started to run to pick it up. Suddenly there was a knock at the front door. She stood in the middle of her small living room for a moment, undecided which to answer first and wishing she had arranged for an answering service in this apartment as she had at the former one.
The knock sounded insistent. Hopefully whoever was on the phone would hold on or call back, Robbie reasoned fleetingly as she walked to open the door.
A huge cluster of brightly colored balloons filled the doorway. As she gazed in stunned amazement, the smiling face of a clown peeked around one side.
“Holiday delivery!” he chirped in a high, funny voice. “Happy New Year, Roblynn Mallory!”
Robbie had to hold onto the door frame she was laughing so hard. “How wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Thank you!”
“Here’s the sender’s card!” the clown said, thrusting the bunch of balloons and a card at her.
The phone continued ringing. Robbie had a little trouble pulling the floating balloons into the apartment and closing the door. Still holding on to the strings, she rushed over to grab the phone and said breathlessly, “Hello!”
“You’re back!” It was Tyler, sounding elated.
“Yes, I’m back and being attacked by a bunch of balloons that some crazy person sent me!” she laughed helplessly.
She could hear Tyler chuckling. “So! You’re the kind of woman who attracts weird men!” he teased. “Have you eaten breakfast?”
“No, I’m barely awake. I was at the airport before six this morning,” she said.
“Good! I’m taking you to brunch at Brennan’s. I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.”
“But, I just got in…”
“I know. I want to see you. I’ve got to leave in three hours on a flight. I’ll be right over.”
“This doesn’t quite make up for New Year’s Eve,” Tyler said, holding up his orange juice glass and clicking its rim with Robbie’s raised one, as they sat at a corner table at the popular restaurant in Buckhead.
“Was it fun?” Robbie asked. “Your New Year’s Eve?”
“Not much. Believe it or not, I went home before midnight.” He helped himself to a generous dollop of sour cream for his strawberry crepes. “How about yours? What did you do? Go out with your old hometown boyfriend?” Tyler’s voice was casual, but he was eyeing Robbie sharply.
She hesitated a moment. Should she tell him how she had spent New Year’s Eve? Would he possibly understand? Well, if they were going to go on together, everything should be out in the open about each other. Robbie replied, “No. I went to church.”
Tyler, his coffee cup in hand and halfway to his mouth halted. Something curious flickered in the depths of his eyes as he stared at her, startled. “Church?” he repeated, as if he had not quite heard her correctly.
Robbie felt herself blush under his penetrating gaze.
“Yes. We always go. It’s a good way to start the New Year, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. I guess so. I mean, if that’s your thing,” Tyler said, shrugging slightly.
The waitress came to refill their coffee cups and the awkward moment passed. Robbie had hoped that Tyler would ask her more about the service, what it was like, and why her family always went. But he didn’t. To bridge the gap that seemed to have opened between them, Robbie asked, “Where is your flight today? You didn’t say where you were going this afternoon.”
“I hate to tell you,” he said with a little smile. “It’s Bermuda. I wish you were going along.” He paused, then asked, “Anything you’d like me to bring back for you?”
“A handful of pink coral sand!” She looked into his eyes, wondering if that day at the cove was as cherished a memory to him as it was to her.
“You got it!” He smiled back at her and her heart thumped wildly. Oh, Lord, she prayed inwardly, please let it work out. I really do want him to love me.
“Ready?” Tyler asked. They got up to leave.
Since, he had to go straight to the airport, he dropped her off in front of the house. Before she got out, he put his arm around her and drew her close. Her mouth yielded to the sweetness of his long, lingering kiss. When it ended he said huskily, “Did I tell you that I missed you?”
“And I missed you,” she whispered.
She stood at the curb and watched the shiny black sportscar pull away and streak into the road toward the freeway. She felt somehow forlorn, not knowing when their schedules would permit them to be in town at the same time again.
Chapter Twelve
To Robbies surprised delight, she found a note from Tyler in her airport mailbox when she returned from her first flight of the new year.
I’m back! If it’s not too last-minute, can we have dinner Saturday night? Call if you can’t make it.
TJL
As she dressed for the evening on Saturday, Robbie felt like a schoolgirl before her first prom. She was ready a full forty-five minutes before Tyler was to come and kept running out on the deck, peering anxiously to see if his car were pulling into the driveway!
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with anticipation of the evening ahead—their first since TV’s Bermuda trip. At last she heard the sound of the motor in the black sportscar and ducked into her bedroom to take a last-minute look at herself. She was wearing a dress she had found at one of the fabulous after-Christmas sales. It was made of crushed velvet the color of cinnamon with a V neckline, wide cummerbund waist, and flared skirt. Deep ruffles of ecru lace fell gracefully over her wrists. She adored the color and the old-fashioned effect of the style and fabric. Satisfied, Robbie whirled around and dashed into the living room. She opened the front door just as Tyler raised his hand to knock.
There was a split-second hesitation as he looked at her. Then, he said in an awed voice, “If you aren’t a picture! I’m almost afraid to kiss you, you might not be real.”
“I’m real,” Robbie assured him, stepping closer and putting her arms around his neck.
They kissed, tentatively at first, then a longer, sweetly satisfying kiss. When it ended, Robbie was shaken to a tingling depth.
She shivered a little at the cold wind sweeping in from the porch. “Come in,” she sai
d softly, taking his hand and gently pulling him inside.
Tyler’s broad shouldered height seemed to fill the small living room as he stood, hands in his pockets, in the middle of it. “Your place looks nice,” he remarked, looking around. “You’ve been doing some decorating, haven’t you?”
“I guess a little since you were here last. I’ve acquired a few new things,” Robbie answered.
Robbie liked color, and she had replaced the rather drab beige curtains with some bright rust woven ones, hung some new plants, and tossed several large pillows in yellow, burnt orange, and green onto the studio couch. Along the top of the bookcase which she had made from boards and ornamental cement blocks were three clay pots of bronze, yellow and white chrysanthemums—and Cyrano.
Spotting the lazy feline, Tyler chuckled. “Among the new things, a cat?”
“Oh, that’s Cyrano, one of Mrs. Holmes’ cats. He’s sort of adopted me or vice versa. Mrs. Holmes has three cats and the Persian has just had kittens, so I think Cyrano felt a little shunted aside.”
“Does he come up here to sulk or be pampered?”
Robbie laughed. “Both, probably. I’m almost ready.
Would you like a cup of coffee or something?” she asked.
“No thanks. I’ll wait. No hurry.”
“I won’t be a minute,” she said and disappeared into the bedroom to get her coat and purse.
When she returned, he was sitting on the couch, leaning over the coffee table, where her magazines and books were spread. He held up the book he had in his hands, raised his eyebrows, and remarked quizzically, “Jane Austen?”
Robbie felt herself blush and said defensively, “It’s considered a classic, you know.”
“A classic, yes. But hardly light reading for a modern young woman.” He smiled, eyeing her with a puzzled interest.
“Well, I have to admit, it’s the second time around. It was required reading in high school, and I think there’s a danger in reading something like Pride and Prejudice too soon. Actually, I saw part of a dramatization of it on TV that sparked my interest. So I thought I’d give it another try.”
“And—?”
“I’m enjoying it. In fact, I like it.” She lifted her chin assertively, as if to justify her taste in reading.
“Don’t be so defensive!” Tyler teased her, laughing. “I think that’s marvelous. In a way, you’re a good deal like Elizabeth Bennet.”
“How do you mean?” she asked, surprised that he was familiar with the characters of this classic novel.
“You’re not of your time,” he answered enigmatically. “Elizabeth did not fit neatly into the slot of young ladies of her day either.”
Not knowing exactly how to respond to his observation, Robbie said nothing. But she could not help thinking that Tyler’s having read Pride and Prejudice revealed an unsuspected facet of his own personality.
He put the book down on the coffee table and got to his feet. “Ready to go?”
She handed him her dark brown velour Coat and he helped her on with it. His hands lingered a moment on her shoulders and then touched the nape of her neck where her soft curls clustered.
“I’ve just thought of the perfect place to take you for dinner tonight,” he announced, smiling down at her and tucking her arm through his.
The Mansion was a magnificent old Victorian home, restored and transformed into an elegant restaurant. They went up a curved, carpeted stairway into a room charmingly decorated in keeping with the era. Robbie admired the rose-patterned wallpaper, illuminated softly, as if by gaslight, from frilled, frosted lamps. She and T.J. were seated in a windowed alcove, overlooking an old-fashioned garden subtly lighted at night and shadowed by towering elms. There was starched white linen on the table and a single fresh rose in a crystal vase in the center.
“Is this Victorian enough for you?” Tyler asked, his eyes snapping with pleasure at her delight in the atmosphere.
“It’s lovely.”
“It becomes you. The ideal background, straight out of a Jane Austen novel!” he declared with teasing affection.
Dinner complemented the ambiance of the place. A crisp salad was followed by an expertly poached salmon filet, Tyier had a glass of Chenin blanc, while Robbie sipped a chilled sparkling grape juice. Lime sherbet with wafer-thin cookies was dessert. Finally they were brought delicious, dark coffee in delicate demitasse cups.
Back in Tyler’s car, after dinner, he said, “I almost forgot. I brought you something back from Bermuda. We’ll go by my place to get it.”
Robbie felt a small shiver of apprehension. She had never been to ?Tyler’s apartment in the fashionable high-rise condominium. Now she wondered if it would be wise to do so. But the vague uneasiness she felt came and went so quickly she was scarcely aware of it—not when going there meant prolonging her time with Tyler.
He slid the long, low sportscar into the space marked “T. J. Lang” in the underground parking garage. He got out, came around the car, and opened the other door for Robbie. With his arm around her waist they walked to the self-operated elevator. As the doors slid shut, Tyler smiled at Robbie and pushed the LOBBY button.
The lobby was large and luxuriously decorated with tropical plants and huge modern paintings. A security guard tipped his uniform cap and said, “Evening, Captain,” and nodded to Robbie.
An unwanted thought slipped through her mind.
How many other young women has the man seen Tyler bring in here? She brushed it aside.
After another elevator ride, doors opening onto a carpeted foyer, and a few yards down a wide hall, Tyler took out his key and opened the door to his place.
“Here we go,” he said, stepping back so that she could precede him.
Robbie drew in her breath as she walked inside. Behind her, Tyler snapped on a wall switch that brought the place into subtly lighted view. Robbie saw herself reflected in the mirrored walls as she looked around.
As he turned on the lights, dance music began playing! Robbie turned to Tyler questioningly He smiled.
“I fixed it so the hall lights activate my stereo. I hate coming into an empty, silent place,” he explained.
They went down deeply carpeted steps into the sunken living room. The room seemed circular in shape, but it was an illusion created by the huge, creamy, curved, contour sofa. In its crescent was a free form, glass-topped coffee table and handsome, black and brass lamp on either end.
“Come see my view—Atlanta at night,” Tyler suggested as he drew back floor-length sheer curtains. Her footsteps made no noise on the thick, deep-green carpet as she walked over to stand beside him and look at the panorama of the lighted city spread out before them.
“It’s gorgeous,” Robbie breathed. “Just fabulous.”
“That alone makes living here worth it,” he commented.
“Is it far from the airport?” she asked, not having paid much attention as Tyler had driven them here.
“Only two blocks and I’m on 1-75 right to the airport.”
They stood there looking out at the lights, shimmering like strings of dazzling jewels in crisscross design against the dark blue velvet night. Then Tyler spoke very quietly. “You know that feeling just before take off?” he asked.
Robbie nodded. “Yes, I know what you mean; I get it every time.”
“Well, I’m getting it now.” He smiled. “I feel like I’m forty thousand feet in the air.”
Robbie forced a laugh. “We almost are!” Their eyes met and her heart splintered into a million pieces.
With that he drew her into his arms and his lips found her mouth. When she tried to pull away, he held her tighter. His kiss was long and hard and had a certain determination. As he pressed her to him, she felt a warm flow of feeling suffuse her whole being, and her resistance weakened. She responded with a shuddering sigh. He kissed her closed eyes, then her mouth again and again. She wound her arms around him and held him as a rush of joy—an unspeakable, nameless happiness—surged through her.
The room spun around her. The music from the stereo seemed to rise and encircle them, blending its rhythmic beat with her wildly beating heart. Tyler kissed her again, and her response was instant as his sweet, deep kisses made her beg for more. Suddenly, she had the sensation of teetering on a precipice…
With an effort, Robbie brought herself back to the present. Her hands gently pushed against his chest, and she pulled away from him.
“I think,” she began breathlessly, “I think I’d better go.”
She saw a lightning flash of anger in his eyes as he held her a minute longer before letting her go. He turned away and jerked the cord that slid the draperies back across the wall of glass, shutting out the view. Then, he said, “Wait! I’ll get your gift,” he said briskly and then crossed the living room and vanished into the hall.
Left alone, Robbie looked around, trying to imagine Tyler Lang living here. The quality of his taste was evident from the paintings, a wood sculpture on the stereo cabinet, and a mounted amethyst geode on the coffee table. A book on modern art and some current weekly news magazines were fanned out alongside it.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” Tyler’s voice directed behind her. She turned around, her eyes tightly shut, holding up cupped hands.
She felt him approach her, the scent of his expensive shaving lotion recognizable.
With a childlike anticipation, she exclaimed, “What is it?”
“What did you ask for?” he reminded her
“A handful of pink coral sand from Bermuda,” she answered. Then she felt the cool spill of—not sand-but something more like tiny jagged stones pour into her hands until they were full. “When can I open my eyes and look?”
“Now,” Ty said.
Obeying him, Robbie looked down and saw a hand ful of lovely coral beads. She gave a soft cry of pleasure. “Oh, Ty! They’re beautiful! Thank you. What a dear, thoughtful thing to do—to bring me back a piece of Bermuda!”
He took them from her and put them around her neck. His fingers on her bare skin as he clasped the necklace sent a delicious feeling of intimacy shivering through her.