Eden's Dream (18 page)

Slurping soup, Ken opened his mouth. “Yeah, plenty of people died. That bothered me.”

“Were you working that evening?”

“Umm hmm.”

Noah could tell they were getting nowhere fast. One syllable answers wouldn't cut it; he needed more. He tossed Eden a helpless look, but she was digging through her purse and didn't catch his eye. She scribbled on a tiny oblong square and slid her business card across the table. “Here, Ken. Call me in two weeks for an interview.”

Ken stopped spooning soup long enough to grin from ear to ear. “Thanks, Ms. Sommers.” He pocketed the card. “Yeah, I worked that evening. Me and a bunch of guys who've since been laid off.”

“Anything unusual happen that you can remember?” Eden asked.

“No. Same old garbage. One night's pretty much like another. Then we went back to the breakroom to play cards.”

“When did you find out the flight was delayed?” Ken allowed the waiter to take the soup bowl and replace it with a gigantic platter of ribs. Digging in, he said, “When the announcement was made, one of the guys tossed his cards down and raced from the room like his tail was on fire.”

“What was wrong with him?”

“All night he'd been acting weird. We thought it was on account of him being pink-slipped. Guy never saw it coming. He came back later mumbling something about having to get a message to the senior flight attendant. Till then we'd all thought the flight had left.”

“Was it unusual to take a message to a flight attendant?” Noah asked.

“Not really. Ramp guys and flight crews are pretty tight. I had plenty of flight attendants.” Ken hesitated. “I think he lied though. This buddy of mine ran into him carrying a box.”

“What was in it?”

Ken shook his head. “Don't know. Probably swiped some cargo. Sure acted even stranger when he got back. He was weird to begin with. Every penny went up his nose, if you get my drift.” Ken placed his index finger on one nostril while snorting with the other. “The guys knew he was looney tunes, but no one wanted to rat on him. We all felt bad. Union people tend to stick together. He had no seniority, and they cut his water. He was first to go. They at least had the decency to give him two weeks' notice. We knew our turn would eventually come. But after this whole thing went down—” Ken's voice wavered, “I been thinking…”

“You been thinking?” Eden's voice was deceptively low. She raised an eyebrow.

Ken spoke through a mouthful of ribs. “Thought maybe he had something to do with the crash. Could have gone over the edge and lost it. Stuff happens. I mean the guy was out there, you know. Everyone knew blow was a problem, but no one wanted to turn him in. It wasn't only the union thing that held them back. He was connected, chief pilot's nephew, you know what I mean?”

“What did he look like?” Noah's voice was dangerously low. Eden immediately knew what he was thinking.

“Tall and skinny. Greasy brown hair, whatever was left of it. Major attitude problem, showed on his face.” Ken cleaned his plate with the last morsel of bread, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “We done?”

“One more thing. What's this guy's name?”

Ken folded his arms across his now bulging stomach. He winked at Eden. “Tell you in two weeks when I get my job.”

“
W
e're
close to solving this thing. I can feel it,” Eden said, shoving two neatly folded towels into Noah's hands. When the tips of her fingers grazed his flesh, she jumped back, electricity surging through her veins. “Give me a couple of minutes and you can have the bathroom,” she babbled. Uncomfortably aware of Noah's bigger-than-life presence, she bolted for the safety of the washroom.

Noah had missed the last shuttle, and call her stupid, she hadn't the heart to send him to a hotel. Gratitude and guilt had plagued her. How would she have gotten through the conversation with that slime ball if he hadn't been around? Eden ran the tap, cupped her palms and let the cold water trickle. Splashing her face with cool water, she willed her racing pulse to settle. Only a shaky and rather ineffective door separated her from this man she'd had no business bringing home. What a glutton for punishment.

Ten minutes later, having brushed her teeth, she was still in there, hunched over the washbasin gazing at her reflection.
Face it, Eden, girl, you're just too scared to go out.
How would she handle it if she found him stark naked in her bed? Would she have the strength to resist him? Even worse, what if he forced himself on her?

“Oh, Eden,” she raged out loud. “What happened to your common sense?”

“You okay in there?” Noah called.

She wanted to tell him she wasn't. That his presence had created havoc with her libido. “I'm fine. Be out in a minute.” Taking deep breaths, she counted to ten before leaving the room.

Noah leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He'd stripped down to his shirtsleeves. The towels she'd given him were held in the curve of bulging muscles. Her mouth went dry just looking at him. The white T-shirt stretched across his hard chest and fit snugly around his tapered waist. Lord have mercy! Eden moistened her lips. “Bathroom's all yours.”

“Thanks.” Their eyes held momentarily. It took all of her willpower to break that gaze. She needed to remain strong, to remember how badly his deception had hurt. Relationships were built on trust, and he'd lost hers. Noah glided past her, giving her one final searching look. In his wake, the smell of spring lingered.

This was madness. The man was a liar, yet her feelings for him hadn't changed one bit—if anything they'd grown stronger. How to explain this?

Keep busy. Refuse to think. She fetched sheets from the closet and began creating a makeshift bed on the sofa. As she tucked in edges of sheet, her eyes were drawn to the shirt Noah had draped over the arm of the couch. Did it smell like him?

She couldn't stop herself. She needed to touch that shirt. Wrap herself in him. Pulled in that direction by an unknown force, she reached over, retrieved the white shirt, and slowly brought it to her nose. Draping the sleeves over her head, she hugged herself tightly and closed her eyes. She was held in his powerful arms, minutes away from being loved by him. Fantasy, certainly not reality, given everything they'd been through. Still, how was she to get through the night knowing that only a flimsy divider separated them? Sheer willpower just wasn't enough.

“Just what are you doing?” Noah's voice penetrated. He sounded amused.

Embarrassed, she whipped the shirt off her head, crumpled it in her palms, and turned to face him. Bare-chested, he confronted her. She swallowed hard. The best defense was a good offense she'd once been told. “What's wrong with you? You scared me, creeping up on me like that.” Her eyes roamed his hard pectorals, and again she moistened her lips.

“I didn't mean to,” he said softly.

The depth of passion she saw in his eyes scared her. “I made up a bed for you. Do you need anything else?” she babbled.

“Yes. There is one other thing I could use. You.”

“Use being the operative word.” Ignoring his blatant come-on, she shoved pillows at him. Noah's tongue was a silken web. She needed to remember that. “I'll see you in the morning, then.”

As she headed for her bedroom she heard him call her name. “Eden.”

“What is it?”

“Wouldn't it be much easier to admit we want each other?” He held a hand up anticipating her interruption. “Look, nothing's going to happen tonight unless you want it to happen. I've never forced myself on a woman, and I don't intend to start now.”

Sorely tempted to go with the flow, she sighed softly. She'd only regret it in the morning. “We've got a lot to work out.”

“Ain't that the truth?” He quickly covered the space separating them and laid his hands on her shoulders. “I understand why you'd be angry, but try to forgive me. Put yourself in my place.”

“I've tried,” she said. “What I don't get is why the charade went on this long.”

He seemed unable to give her the response she so desperately needed. The truth.

L
ater that evening
despite the cool breeze flowing through the apartment's window, Noah tossed and turned. He hadn't had a wink of sleep since he'd laid down. It had been sheer agony lying awake knowing that only a tiny divider separated them. Why hadn't he just gone to a hotel instead of taking her up on her halfhearted offer to provide him a place to stay? Truth was, he'd hoped she might forgive him. He stretched out one foot and acknowledged the animal nesting next to him. Kahlua, loyal beast that she was, licked his ankle. At least he still had one woman's trust.

The blast of an occasional horn and the rattle of early morning cabs filtered through the window. Noxious exhaust fumes, the shouts of garbage men and the scrape of gigantic brushes against pavement indicated cleaners already at work. What a difference from DC where life seemed to end after midnight.

Eden's piercing shriek caused him to bolt from bed. The sudden movement sent Kahlua flying. He pushed the divider aside and flipped on the light. Eden writhed amid a tangle of bed sheets. It was only a nightmare, thank God.

“Eden, honey, wake up,” Noah urged. He sat on the edge of her bed, grasped her shoulders and shook gently. She moaned, uttered a guttural sound, and struggled to free herself. “Easy, baby. Now come on, open your eyes.”

She came to slowly. First one eye opened then another. “Noah,” she said, reaching out to him. He was too surprised to do anything but wrap his arms around her back and pull her tightly against his chest. She clung to him. By her body's jerky movements, he knew she'd begun to sob. He kissed the top of her head.

“Hush, baby. Hush,” he said, tightening his arms around her.

“God, Noah, it was awful.”

“It was just a dream, sweetheart. Would it help if you talked about it?”

He could feel her chest expand and deflate as she gulped air. At last she managed, “It's a recurrent nightmare. But this time it was god-awful.”

“Tell me about it.”

In husky tones Eden recited, “I'm on a plane that goes down, kind of like the Pelican crash. People are panicking all around me, and my only hope is Rod, or at least a man who looks like Rod. Sometimes the face is fuzzy, and sometimes I think the man's you. Lately, the dream focuses on this peculiar little box… God, you're going to think I'm nuts.” She swiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“Try me.”

Eden sniffled. “This box, well…it has human qualities. It walks and even tries to talk.”

Still holding her, Noah slid into bed and gathered her close. “What does the box say?”

“That's the thing. It makes unintelligible noises. Sort of a tick tucking.”

“I don't think you're crazy at all, Eden,” Noah said, squeezing her tight then kissing both cheeks. “In fact I think you're on to something.”

“I am?” She'd stopped crying.

“Think, Eden. Think. The NTSB has ruled this thing sabotage. You're having peculiar dreams about a box. What's his name?” He snapped his fingers. “Kendall Alexander mentions this ex-Pelican employee was seen carrying a box. Must mean something.”

“You don't think…”

“I do think we need to find this guy—and soon.”

F
ive hours later
, Eden and Noah entered Pelican's terminal. Noah had already advised Gary he'd be arriving at work late. He now planned on catching a midmorning shuttle.

“Do you have time for coffee?” Noah asked, tweaking the nape of Eden's neck.

“I suppose, although I do have a ten-thirty meeting.”

Holding Eden by the elbow, he guided her through long lines at the check-in counters and up an escalator. When she looked at him questioningly, he patted his pocket. “Boarding pass right here. I don't have luggage, so I did online check in.”

Upstairs, in front of a tiny specialty coffee shop sporting the name Runway Cafe, Noah stopped to pick up a newspaper before leading her inside. “Is this alright?”

“Fine.”

They were escorted to a table by a smiling waitress of indeterminate age. “Coffee?” the brunette asked, heading for the station where several pots perked.

Eden inhaled the heavenly aroma. Subtle scents of vanilla, coconut, and burnt almond filled her nostrils. She yawned, then flexed her neck, trying to get the kinks out.

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Noah asked.

Nodding, she refused to tell him that having him in bed made the world of difference. She'd slept better than she had in a long time.

Their waitress returned carrying two coffeepots. “Want to try the Palermo or something else?” She jiggled the pot. “It's one of our most popular brews.”

“Palermo's delicious,” Eden confirmed, watching Noah unfold his paper.

“Holy…”

“Sir, would you prefer another flavor? I can…” Their waitress eyed Noah curiously. Ignoring her, he continued to peruse the paper, muttering to himself.

Eden quickly said, “Why don't you go ahead and pour?” She shot Noah a questioning look. Something in that paper had upset him badly. She waited for their server to depart before asking. “Well?” When he didn't answer, she cleared her throat several times to get his attention. “Noah, what's wrong?”

A muscle in Noah's jaw worked overtime as he folded the newspaper into four and slid it across the table. “Plenty. See for yourself.”

Deliberately delaying reading, Eden sipped her coffee. Her fingers trembled when she finally picked up the paper. Whatever it was wasn't good news. She glanced at the photograph, her hands shaking so badly that coffee sloshed all over the picture. Rod's face took up most of the front page. She forced herself to read the caption.
Sabotage Caused Flight 757's Crash.

“How, Noah? How? I thought the National Transportation Safety Board wasn't set to release their findings until next week.”

“That's what I understood. Must be a leak someplace. That wouldn't be the first time we've had one. What makes me mad is…” He jabbed his finger at the article. “The NTSB is very careful about the way that releases are worded. They'd never sanction something like this knowing that it would upset the families of the deceased and cause the general public to panic. You should read that thing. Talk about sensationalism.”

“I don't think I want to.”

“It's pure speculation, some journalist's bid to get the crash on the front page again, and make a name for himself,” he ranted. “One source is attributing the fatality to a middle eastern terrorist group. Another, to some militant group that Rod was supposedly a member of. Even the old missile theory has resurfaced. Are you okay, Eden?”

She shook her head, unable to stop the tears spilling. I'll be fine. Look you gotta go. Your plane's leaving in a few minutes.”

“Forget about my plane,” he said, surprising her. I'm not leaving you in this state.”

“I'll be fine, really I will.” Eden opened her purse and fumbled for a tissue, but Noah was quicker. He retrieved a snowy white handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it over. She blew her nose, crumpled the linen in her palm and then tossed the cloth into her purse. “I'll wash it and mail it to you.”