Professionalism kicked in with no preparation. “The pilot and his crew did their utmost to ensure passenger safety and comfort throughout the crisis.”
Wes raised an eyebrow.
A teenage boy announced he’d shot video on his digital camera. All media people rushed to surround him, mikes and notepads poised.
His steady gaze unruffled her. “What? I’m sure they did their best. Even if I didn’t exactly witness it.” What he must think of her, seeing her rattle off a lie without a second’s hesitation.
“I’m sure you’re right.”
They walked to the counter, passing a flatscreen television with live news. From their airport. Video panned across the jet to the gaping hole in the fuselage.
“Oh my God.” The full force of the near-miss struck her off balance. They truly could have died.
He took her elbow, and held her waist. “Whoa. Let’s sit.”
“No, I have to see it. Where is it?” She peered past the crowd.
They edged into a crowd near the wall of windows. The plane was unmistakeable – photographers pointed their video and digital cameras at the gaping jagged metal mouth between the wing and the body of the jet.
Unable to process, she looked at Wes.
He shrugged. “I told you. It wasn’t our time. Let’s go check in, see what our options are.”
Options. What a novel idea. How nice it must be to have them. Take them for granted.
They waited at the end of a line of about fifty others. When they finally reached the counter, the man said no more flights to Hawaii today.
No. She clutched the edge of the counter. “That’s not possible. Please check again.”
“Sorry, miss. Next flight out is tomorrow morning.”
“What about a charter plane? Or a helicopter? Anything. I have to get there today.”
The last conversation with Michelle replayed larger than life. Hysterical pleadings and threats. Fix it. Now!
Wide-eyed, the man stood unmoving, as if in the presence of a dangerous animal.
“Allison…” Wes squeezed her shoulder.
Her hands flailing, words tumbled out. “Oh, what am I thinking? That’ll cost thousands of dollars, right? And she won’t cover half my expenses as it is. She turns it all around on me, says she pays me too much and I can’t keep up. Who can keep up? I fix one mistake and five minutes later, she calls about the next one.”
“Calm down, babe.” He steered her out of line.
Her voice trembled. “I have to get there today. She’ll blame me, she always blames me.”
“My God, the woman’s a monster.” He sat them in catecornered seats.
“She is. A three-headed monster. And none of the heads can ever agree. Except when it comes to blaming me, of course.”
He chuckled. “A three-headed monster is the worst kind.” He leaned forward, caressing her knees. Like the calm in the midst of a storm, he was the one sane thing about her life right now. And she didn’t even know him.
She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I never lose control. Never.”
“Then it was high time you did. Repression is very unhealthy.”
She dug in her purse for a tissue. “Tell me about it. I’m on prescription antacids and sleeping pills.” And neither really helped.
“I’ll talk to her, if you like. I do a great impression of a pilot. And surely she’ll have seen the news.”
A laugh burst from her. “Michelle McCarter watch the news? Not likely, unless she’s the top story.”
“She certainly can’t blame you for the fuselage falling off.”
She slumped, clutching her tissue. “She’ll find a way. You’ll see.”
He smiled. “Let’s go to a hotel.”
She looked at the hard seats of the airport. If she’d only packed a softer bag, she could have rested on that. “I can’t afford a room. She’s only covering part of this flight. I’m lucky to travel to places like this, she said, and…”
He took her hands in his. “You’re staying with me.”
She searched his eyes, those wild blue eyes that drew her in, made her want to swim in their depths. “Wes.”
“No arguments.” He stood, pulled her to her feet, his arms encircling her waist.
A flash blinded her.
Wes held a hand toward the camera. “What are you…”
A thirtyish man shouldered the camera strap and poised a pen over a notepad. “I’m from The Chronicle. Were you on the plane to Hawaii?”
Holding her waist, Wes pushed past him. “Not now, bud.”
“Aren’t you Wes Hamilton? World class surfer?”
His eyes narrowed as he turned to face the intruder. “Get lost.”He released her and stretched his six-foot-three frame to full height.
The reporter held up a hand and backed away.
Wes took her hand. “Come on.”
“He knew you.”
“Reporters think they know everything.”
In the pit of her stomach, something churned. “And the bad ones speculate to fill in the blanks.”
They whooshed through the doors to a waiting taxi.
***
The suite stretched to sliding glass doors and a balcony overlooking the Pacific Ocean. One king size bed beckoned her to fling herself upon it, so she complied.
She closed her eyes. “Oh this is heaven. Maybe we did die after all.”
The sliding glass doors opened. A breeze wafted through the room smelling of salt water. The waves undulated against the shoreline, further lulling her.
She should get up. Her body had other ideas.
He sat on the bed. “Are you hungry? Want to go get something to eat?”
She curled toward him. “I’m starved. But I’m also exhausted. I don’t think I can get up.” And didn’t want him to move either.
Being with him was so natural. She’d never felt so at ease with another person. Especially a guy.
Maybe every woman felt the same way with him.
“Then don’t.” He kissed her cheek. “We’ll order in. Or I can go out and bring something back.”
She sighed. “I did die. You’re an angel.”
“Maybe the opposite.” He stood and walked to the desk, opened the menu.
His statement sent a chill through her. What was she doing here? This guy was a stranger. Miss I-Overthink-Everything was alone in a foreign place with a guy she’d met hours earlier. No one else had any idea where she was. He could throw her over the balcony and…
“The steak looks good.” … He carried the menu to the bed. “ So does the seafood. What sounds good to you?”
Hunger must be making her delirious. She sat up to shake it off. “What do they have?” She leaned against his shoulder, inhaled his scent, already so familiar. “I think I could eat a whale.”
He smiled. “Seafood then?”
“How about surf ‘n turf? Anything, at this point.”
He lifted the phone and pushed a button. “Hello. We’d like to order, please.” He mimed holding a glass to his lips, his eyebrows raised in question.
“Milk,” she whispered. His look of amusement riled her. “I like to eat healthy.”
The rest of his conversation to her was lost as he slid his hand under her knee, down her calf, back up. She caught the last: “And a carafe of your best sangria, too, please.”
He hung up, then swung his body on the bed to hover over her. “It’ll be forty-five minutes, at least.”
She groaned. “Forty-five minutes?”
He kissed her neck. “It could be time well spent…” His hand slid up her thigh to her bare hip.
His energy penetrated her to the core. She raised her legs and pulled him to her. “So true.”
He rolled under her as he kissed her, then twisted sideways and scooped her up. “I think you need a bath.”
She settled her arms around his neck. “How did you do that? Do you perform with Cirque du Soleil,
too?”
He chuckled as he carried her to the bathroom and set her on the tile. “Not yet.” He twisted the faucet on.
Reluctantly, she released him. “But you haven’t ruled it out.”
He unbuttoned her blouse, slid it past her shoulders, then tackled her bra hook. “No, but it’s very low on the list.”
She tugged his shirt over his head, and ran her hand across his sleek, chiseled chest. “I see. You have your priorities.”
He unzipped her skirt and pushed it off, leaving her naked. “Absolutely. You have to stay focused on your goals.”
His shorts slid easily down his narrow hips. She slipped her arms around him. “That’s a basic rule of thumb.”
“Let’s test the water, shall we?” He stepped into the tub, large enough for five. He dipped his head beneath the faucet, leaned against the side and held out his hand. “Care to join me?”
Oh yes. In more ways than one.
She took his hand and stepped in. “This bathroom is amazing. But why would you ever need a tub this huge?”
“Oh, I can think of a few reasons.” He tugged her hand and she straddled him.
Her renewed energy turned atomic at the touch of his skin against hers.
This time, no one waited outside the door. She tore open the condom he’d set by the towels and slid it on him. They took their sweet time, their wet slippery bodies sliding deliberately and deliciously against one another. She held him to her with a fierceness that surprised her.
Afterward, they cradled each other.
He rubbed soap on his hands and ran them across her skin, across every curve, into every nook, as gently as if she were a baby. She followed suit, lathering him everywhere.
He nodded toward the water. “Wet your head.”
She tilted her head and let the water flow down her hair.
He squirted shampoo and massaged it in.
Complete calm washed over her as she held his waist, luxuriating in his touch. “You’re going to spoil me.”
“You deserve to be spoiled. Rinse.”
They were toweling each other off when two knocks sounded at the door.
“Dinner’s here.” He twisted a towel around his waist and went to answer it.
After the door shut again, she padded to the closet and put on the hotel robe.
He set the tray on the bed and took the lids off the plates. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Ravenous.” She slid across the comforter and sat cross-legged.
“Dig in.”
She needed no encouragement. “This is excellent. And I don’t think it’s only because I’m starving.”
They talked and laughed as they cleaned the plates bare.
Pouring the sangria, he smiled as he handed her a glass. “You look tired.”
“I am.” She rested against the pillows. “This wine will put me right to sleep, I have to warn you.”
He moved the trays to the floor and settled next to her. “I better kiss you good night now, then.” He touched his lips to hers in a kiss so magical it seemed like a fairy tale, with her glowing and stars twinkling all around them.
She touched his cheek. “I’m afraid to close my eyes.”
“Why?” He nibbled her thumb.
“I don’t want to wake up and realize I dreamed all this.” An enormous sadness welled within her. If only this day could stretch on endlessly. Time could reach eleven fifty-nine, then veer off on a sharp tangent into infinity.
His face softened. “It’s not a dream. We’ll both be here when you wake up.” He slid his arm around her, and she nestled against him as he stroked her hair.
“Mmm. This is nice.” After two sips of sangria, her eyelids hung heavy, her body weighted with sleep. She felt the glass lifted from her hand, a kiss on top of her head.
He whispered, “Sweet dreams.”
She wanted to tell him it already was sweet, sweeter than she’d ever known, but only a formless sound came from her mouth, and she gave in to sleep.
***
Clouds of amber and grey streaked the morning sky. Wes stood on the balcony, his profile strong as a statue’s as he looked out over the ocean, his hair ruffled by the breeze.
The coffee maker burbled. The clock read 6:40.
She pulled her robe shut and slumped back to the pillow with a sigh, hoping the haze that clouded her brain would soon clear. Vivid images from the day before replayed in her head. Wes had taken up residence in her mind as if he belonged there, as if fate brought them together yesterday on a prearranged schedule.
She stretched to her full length and wiggled her fingers and toes like a little girl.
He walked toward her, coffee mug in hand. “Hey, you’re up. Our flight’s in three hours. They serve breakfast downstairs until eight, but we should get a cab…”
Horror jolted her upright. “Oh my God.”
He halted. “What?”
“My purse.” She scrambled out of bed. “What the hell is wrong with me?” She grabbed it from the table and pulled out her Blackberry, still off since yesterday. And she hadn’t charged it, either.
“I can’t believe I’m such an idiot.” Rummaging through her laptop case, she pulled the cord out and plugged it into the device.
His bare footfalls padded up behind her, and he laid a hand on her back. “What’s wrong?”
He looked so sweet, so concerned. What was he doing in her world? His very sanity and groundedness threw off her edge.
“Michelle’s going to kill me. I never called her yesterday.” How could she have forgotten?
He slid his arms around her. “She’ll get over it.”
Her head against his chest, she whimpered, “If only that were true.”
He kissed her hair. “Let’s get something to eat. When we get back, you can call her. It’s too early now.”
Of all her options, that sounded sensible. Michelle would hate her more if she woke her up so early – what was the time difference between San Diego and Hawaii anyway? Ten and a half hours between New York and Hawaii, but she hadn’t planned to stop on the West Coast. It must still be a few hours’ difference, at least, especially since Hawaii didn’t observe daylight savings time.
He patted her rear. “Get dressed.”
Her bag. She’d left it at the airport. “Ugh. The same clothes. How disgusting.”
He tugged on his shorts. “I don’t know. They bring back good memories, don’t you think?”
She lay her blouse and skirt on the bed and smoothed the wrinkles. “That’s true. Oh.”
He tilted his head in question.
“My panties.” She’d have to go commando.
A leering smile crept across his face. “Oh yeah. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.” She disrobed and stood there. “Sure we have to get breakfast now?” Once they landed in Honolulu, she might never see him again.
He walked to her and took a deep breath as his hands wandered down her back. “You should have something to keep up your strength.”
She kissed him, and pulled him onto the bed. “I will. Later.” She had two years of loneliness behind her, and who knew how many ahead of her. Time was of the essence.
She plunged her hands into his shorts. It was all the encouragement he needed.
***
After checking in at the airport, Allison waited while Wes went to the news stand for newspapers. She set her laptop case on a seat and pulled her Blackberry from her purse. Delaying it further would only make things worse. She pressed the power button.
Six voice mail messages and as many text messages awaited her. Bracing herself, she scanned the texts – all but one from Michelle, progressively aggressive. The other from her brother, who’d seen the news report. She texted him back that she was fine. More than fine, she wanted to say, but she shouldn’t jinx it.
The voice mails made her cringe as Michelle’s hysteria level increased with each call. The last began in a disturbingly calm tone, which made Allis
on more nervous. Something was amiss.
“I saw today’s newspaper about the airplane.” Definitely amiss. Michelle had read the paper? That could only mean she expected to be front page news, which equalled more damage for Allison to undo.
“Imagine my surprise when I saw the photo of you and your surfer boy. Of course, the interview surprised me even more.” Interview? No one had interviewed her.
“Mr. Hamilton dishes dirt better than the gossip columns. He called me a three-headed monster!” Michelle had laughed, but a chill crept over Allison at hearing her own words attributed to Wes. Michelle went on, “Said I took advantage of you. Funny, and here I thought it was the only way around.” Around came out as a growl. A loud growl.
Michelle ranted until the allotted message space ran out. Allison considered deleting it, but turned the phone off instead.
Heaving a sigh, she shoulder her bag and walked to the news stand.
Wes glanced up from his sports magazine, mischief in his smile. “Hey.”
Her voice was leaden. “Hey.” She went to the newspapers and picked up all those with front page photos of the jet. There, below the front-page fold of the Sun, the photo of her and Wes taken yesterday afternoon. Their open mouths implied guilt, as if caught in the act.
She scanned the article, her gaze catching on phrases such as according to Mr. Hamilton and he said. The middle of the article slammed her like an anvil to the brain: the Mile High Club reference. No one but she or Wes could have given the reporter that information. She sure as hell hadn’t told anyone.
Her mind raced. When would the reporter have interviewed him? Had she missed something? Her radar normally detected the users in any crowd, having trained herself to be highly attuned to anyone wanting to be near her to gain access to Michelle and James. Was he so gifted at disguising his true aim? Or had she ignored it because she craved his attention?
Her stomach tumbled upon itself.
His hand slid across her shoulder. “Almost ready?”
Her lip trembled as she looked up at him. Not trusting herself to speak, she held the paper out.
“What?” Focusing on their photo, he said, “Oh man.”
“Read it. It’s very interesting.” She waited as he scanned the article.
“What? This is such bullshit, it’s…” Glancing over, his expression blanked. “You know this is just crap.”
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