Promises in the Night: A Classic Romance - Book 2 (12 page)

There was no longer any point in pretending that Alex wasn’t uppermost in her mind. Her attempt at sidestepping the issue had failed miserably, and now she was going to go home to try to make some sense out of the way she was feeling. When she was younger, she had tumbled headfirst into love, unaware of the danger. Now she was older and wiser—still prone to tumbling headfirst, but not without a fight.

T
he earth dropped away
from the Cessna and he was airborne. The small plane rocked in the light head wind, then gained altitude steadily, and Alex settled in for the short hop to Providence. He loved the brief uncertainty of takeoff, when it seemed as if gravity would win the battle and keep him chained to the earth.

Rikki used to say that he was the only man alive who enjoyed turbulence, and he always laughed but never denied it. His entire life had been predicated on the fact that the impossible could be attained, and keeping a plane aloft despite tricky air currents and the threat of wind shear fit right in with that philosophy.

Today, however, the turbulence was all inside him, and when he landed in Providence and discovered that the emergency had already been taken care of, his body vibrated with an excess of emotion and energy.

He paced up and down the length of the observation deck of the small private airport. Hadn’t they decided they needed some time and space to reestablish their boundaries? Hadn’t he wanted to get as far away as possible from Larkin Walker before he found himself hopelessly entangled in her life?

He stopped in his tracks. Hadn’t he also promised never to lie to himself?

Any new boundaries they established would be established within their new relationship. And as for getting away before he became entangled in Larkin’s life, it was already too late for that. When she first came into his arms, any hope of keeping his heart intact went up in smoke, and whether he liked it or not, Alex Jakobs fell in love.

T
he car’s
engine wheezed and rattled and stubbornly refused to turn over no matter how many times Larkin tried. She let out the clutch and fought down the urge to get out and kick the damned car in its rear quarter-panel.

Her mechanic’s fourteenth warning about the alarming age of her battery rang in her ears, and the cost of another tow-truck call conjured up visions of many nights of peanut butter and jelly dinners.

No wonder her mother liked being married. There was always somebody around to take care of annoying incidentals like batteries and brake jobs.

Larkin was on her way back inside the Center to call her service station when she heard the familiar roar of Gordon Franklin’s ancient car.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you!” she said as he pulled up next to her car. “You’re the answer to my prayers.”

For once Gordon didn’t turn red with embarrassment. “I was driving by and I saw your car. Is something wrong?”

Larkin laughed. “Wrong? Only everything.” She gestured toward the red Datsun with disgust. “I’m dying to go home and take a long, hot bath, and the car decides to die on me.”

“Release the hood lock.”

Larkin reached inside the car and pulled the handle. The hood popped and Gordon raised it into position.

“You didn’t get the new battery Monty told you to get.” He looked very stern and very young, and she had to bite back a smile.

“Guilty. I just haven’t had time to drop the car off.” His frown deepened. “Don’t look like that, Gordon. I thought I could get another few months out of it.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t alone on the Expressway at night. What would you have done then?”

“Prayed for a police car to drive by. I promise I’ll have the battery replaced on Monday.” He was fiddling with the battery terminals, and she leaned over his shoulder to see exactly what he was doing. “Can you fix it, Gordon?”

He inserted one of his house keys into the battery connection. “Try it now.”

She got into the car, put it into neutral, and turned the key.

“You’re a miracle worker! Gordon, how can. I ever thank you enough?”

He removed his key from the terminal and closed the hood. “By getting a new battery,” he said. “I may not always be here when you need me.”

“Of course you will, Gordon,” she said. “You’ve never let me down.”

His customary blush blossomed, and impulsively she kissed him on the cheek. He looked at her, and in that look she saw wonderment and longing and a sadness that brought tears to her eyes. However, before she could put a name to it, it was gone and his expression was once more guarded.

“Go right home,” he said. “Don’t turn the engine off or you won’t be able to get it started again.”

“It’s a promise,” she said as she got back into her car. “Thanks again, Gordon. I really appreciate your help.”

He flashed a quick, shy smile in her general direction and climbed behind the wheel of his Chevy. “Drive carefully,” he said, and before she could get her car into gear, he roared out of the parking lot and back into traffic.

Whatever Gordon did to the car worked, because Larkin was able to drive the fifteen miles to her house with no problem. How he had managed to resurrect her car from the dead with a house key was a mystery to her. She wished he were more comfortable in her presence, because she would have liked to take him to lunch or something to thank him for all the many favors, both large and small, that he performed for her that were not in the course of duty.

She turned down her block; squinting against the late afternoon glare.

Her fatigue was worse than she thought. For a second she imagined she saw a shiny dark grey Car parked in front of one of her neighbor’s houses.

“It’s a good night’s sleep for you tonight, Walker,” she muttered as she pulled into the driveway.

She turned off the engine and got out, and as she reached for her pocketbook in the back seat, she saw Alex sitting on the top step by her front door with a basket of violets by his side.

She walked toward him, acutely aware of every movement she made. He never took his eyes from her.

“Violets in November?” She buried her nose in the mass of violets. “You must be a magician.”

“I’m no magician,” Alex said. “There’s a wonderful nursery in Newport that caters to intrepid romantics.”

“I thought you had an emergency in Providence,” she said, unlocking her front door.

Alex stood on the bottom step. “Things were settled by the time I got there. I used the time to do some thinking.”

“Come to any conclusions?”

He smiled at her, and she thought her heart would burst through her chest. “Only that I want to be near you tonight.”

“Funny thing,” she said, opening the door, “I did some thinking today myself.”

A flicker of apprehension passed across his handsome face. “Come to any conclusions?”

“Just one.”

“Which is?”

She smiled at him. “Come in and I’ll show you.”

“
I
don’t believe it
,” Larkin mumbled, burrowing her face more closely against Alex’s chest. “Who would call at this ungodly hour?”

Alex squinted at the digital clock on the end table. “It’s not that ungodly an hour,” he said, noting the sunshine trying to get through the cracks in the blinds. “It’s eight-fourteen.”

The phone shrilled again.

“Eight-fourteen on a Sunday morning
is
ungodly,” she said with a groan. “No decent person is even awake yet.”

He decided not to go into the fact that they had only drifted into sleep an hour ago after a night of the most incredible physical and emotional communion he’d ever known. The answering machine clicked on and they both waited.

Beep. “Larkin, I know you’re in there. Wake up! Larkin?”

“Is that Patti?”

Larkin sat up. “I’m going to kill her! If she wants to tell me about one of her dates…”

Patti’s voice was more insistent this time. “Larkin! I’m not joking. This is an emergency. The balloon trip has—”

Larkin leaned over Alex and picked up the telephone. “Has there been an accident?”

Patti was speaking so loudly that he had no difficulty in hearing her side of the conversation.

“Accident? How can there be an accident if we haven’t even gotten off the ground yet?”

“Slow down, Patti!” She was still leaning over him and her breasts brushed against his thighs. He hoped it would be a long phone call. “Start at the beginning. What the hell is going on?”

Patti sounded as if she were on the verge of hysteria. A planned hot-air balloon excursion in southern New Jersey fizzled when the pilot failed to show up. The charter bus wouldn’t return for them until three o’clock, and Patti was stranded in a meadow with a group of irate patrons who were looking to have Larkin’s head.

“You have to get here fast. One of them is from
The New York Times.
He’ll kill the Center if we don’t come up with something.”

Fascinated, Alex watched as Larkin’s mind jumped into overdrive:

“Are you still in O’Hanlon’s pasture?”

“Yes, but—”

“Stay there, she ordered. “Break out the champagne breakfast you brought for after the flight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“But it’s a two-hour drive!”

She looked at Alex in question and he nodded.

“I’ll be there before you know it, Patti. Trust me.”

She hung up the phone, then lingered a moment on his lap. “I really appreciate this, Alex.”

“Are you sure you want to fly with me?”

“I have no choice, have I? I have to get to New Jersey as fast as I can.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said dryly. “Are you sure you don’t want to take out flight insurance?”

She grinned. “Do you offer it?”

He ran his fingers through her long hair. “I’ve never needed it.”

Her eyes widened. “You fly without insurance?”

“It’s known as living dangerously.”

She turned a shade paler. “That isn’t what I wanted to hear, Alex.”

“You’ve flown before. What are you so afraid of?”

“Death. Dismemberment, pain. You name it, I’m afraid of it.”

“And you offer a Fear of Flying seminar?” He shook his head. “You take care of your students. I’ll take care of transportation.”

“I’m putting my life in your hands.”

“Trust me.” He gave her a friendly swat on the derriere.

She looked at him as if he were a hand grenade ready to explode, and he laughed. “Get ready to go. All I have to do is call the airport and file a flight plan and we’re on our way.”

“
I
’m not going
up in that station wagon with wings,” Larkin said thirty minutes later as she inspected Alex’s Cessna 207. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“It’s safer than driving on the Expressway.”

“So is skydiving, but I’m not signing up for a jump.”

He chuckled and continued his preflight routine. Morning sun picked up the blond highlights in his chestnut hair and gave him a younger, more carefree look. Before today, she had seen Alex dressed only in three-piece suits and his pirate costume, and she was intrigued by how at ease he seemed in jeans, shirt and a battered leather jacket.

The faded jeans fit snugly around his lean hips and legs, and the black jacket, emphasized the width of his shoulders. All signs of Alex Jakobs., Ph.D., were gone. The man in front of her
was
obviously born to fly.

He opened the passenger door and she climbed inside. It was going to take more than the frayed seat belt to keep her inside this thing. He closed the door behind her.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said as Alex got into the pilot’s seat and slipped on his headset. “This really isn’t such a good idea.”

He started the engine. The one puny propeller on the nose of the plane began to spin. “Do you have any other ideas on how to get to Patti?”

“I can drive,” she yelled over the engine noise.

“It will take you over two hours, Larkin.”

He fiddled with some gauges and dials and mumbled something into his mouthpiece. The plane began to shudder.

“I’ll take a train,” she said as the plane eased over to the end of the line of equally tiny planes awaiting clearance for takeoff.

“By the time you figure out the train schedules, the bus will have taken them all back home.” His grin was wicked and wise. “Face it, Larkin: we’re going for a ride.”

She closed her eyes and prepared to die. When it was their turn to takeoff, Alex wound the motor up and they barreled down the short runway, then, miraculously, took to the air.

“It couldn’t wait to leave the ground,” Larkin said as she opened her eyes. “You weren’t going more than sixty miles an hour when we took off.”

“Perfect economy of design,” Alex said, as the Cessna gained altitude, leaving the airport and the surrounding suburbs behind: “She’s doing what she was made to do.”

And so, it seemed, was he.

“I appreciate this more than I can say, Alex. I’m sure this wasn’t how you’d planned to spend your Sunday morning.”

The plane banked left. “No, it wasn’t. I’d planned to spend it in bed, with you, but since we seem to have a definite problem with mornings, this was the next best thing.”

Normally, Larkin would have argued that being trapped in a plane was second best only to death by torture. She was accustomed to the tin-can atmosphere on commercial jet planes: the strange-smelling recycled air combined with the cramped seats and pressurized cabin gave her claustrophobia before the plane even left the runway.

This, however, was different. She could literally reach outside the window and touch the clouds. The mystery of flight was less terrifying when she could actually see the dials and gauges and instruments responsible for keeping the plane aloft. And, of course, there was Alex. Watching him as he kept the plane on course, listening to him as he explained exactly what was going on, knowing that she was sharing an important part of his life, she found it possible to forget that in a little while she would be coping with twenty irate customers and a near-hysterical Patti Franklin.

As difficult as the morning before had been, that’s how easy this morning was. On both nights the physical aspects of lovemaking had been exciting beyond Larkin’s wildest fantasies. Last night, however, something else had been added, a secret, magical element that transcended sex and raised their pleasure to a higher level. Some might label the magic “love.” Larkin wasn’t ready to go quite that far, but if love meant feeling you could soar out into the tranquil blue skies over Long Island without benefit of a one-engine Cessna 207—well, maybe she’d have to consider the possibility.

“
I
s she always like this
?” Alex turned to Patti, who was leaning against the side of the car Larkin had managed to rent at the Princeton airport.

“This is nothing,” Patti said, reapplying her crimson lipstick. “I saw her convince a tongue-tied archaeologist that he’d like nothing better than to conduct a two-day dig off Montauk Point.”

“The only thing off Montauk Point is the Atlantic Ocean, Patti.”

She grinned at him. “See what I mean? The woman is amazing.”

That she was.

From the second they reached the farm where Patti was stranded with the would-be balloonists, Larkin had been a whirlwind of energy and invention.

He had expected unfocused anger, abject apologies and random confusion. Instead, he watched, amazed, as she charmed and flirted and practically bribed her way past their well-founded fury and began to turn adversity into adventure. It was a brazen mixture of humility and humbug; and it worked beautifully. He was duly impressed.

Alex was even more impressed a half hour later when he found himself called into service for the cause. O’Hanlon, the farmer on whose property they were stranded, agreed to open his house to the refugees from the Learning Center, and Larkin was going to teach an impromptu dance class for those who were interested. Patti would offer a lesson from the “How to Flirt” course she gave four times a year.

Alex suddenly found himself volunteering to take passengers up in his Cessna for an impromptu aerial tour of Princeton University and the environs thereof. Later on, when he had time to think about it, he wasn’t sure if the idea had originated with him or the wily Ms. Walker. However, one thing he was sure of was that he was having the time of his life.

At around two o’clock he refueled his plane for the third time and was about to fly back to O’Hanlon’s when he saw Larkin sitting on the hood of the rented car.

“Bring on the horde,” he called as he walked toward her. “I’m back in service again.”

She stood up. Her hair glowed with platinum highlights in the fierce sunlight, and it flowed freely over her shoulders and to her waist. “I know this will break your heart,” she said with a grin, “but you’re off the hook.”

“I’m off the hook?”

“No more barnstorming the skies over Princeton. The bus came early and the horde is on its way back home.”

“I thought we’d get in at least one more flight.”

“No,” she said. “Your prayers were answered. I—” His face must have given him away, because Larkin suddenly stopped. “You’re not disappointed, are you?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I was having a great time.”

She came over to where he stood and put her arms around his waist.

“Have you ever considered giving up psychology and taking to the skies?”

“Every now and then,” he admitted. “Especially now that
Helpline
will be on twice a week.”

“Live both nights?”

“Afraid so.”

She sighed. “We should have Patti feed our schedules into the computer to see if we’re compatible.”

“We’re compatible,” he said. “I think we proved that last night.”

“It’s not the nights I worry about. It’s the mornings that seem to give us trouble.” She kissed his jaw. “Next time I promise to disconnect the phone.”

The words “next time” echoed inside him. “I’ll turn off the beeper.”

“If you could arrange to wear that pirate costume again, I wouldn’t complain.”

She managed to look both angelic and wickedly sexy, and he laughed. “Sounds a little kinky, Ms. Walker. Care to talk about it?”

“Personally or professionally?”

He pulled her close. “Personally.”

“I’d much rather show you what I mean when we get home, Dr. Jakobs.”

He feigned surprise. “You’ll actually risk flying with me again?”

“Well, I had been considering Amtrak--”

“Life is a series of risks, Larkin. Live dangerously.” Absurd advice from a man who had been avoiding emotional risk-taking for the past four years.

“I have,” she said.

He couldn’t read the expression on her face. She suddenly seemed distant, and he wondered if she was thinking about Vladimir Karpov, wishing for what once was. Challenging tricky air currents in his Cessna was about the biggest risk he’d ever taken before meeting Larkin.

Vladimir Karpov, however, would be back in town in just three weeks.

The thought of a midair collision didn’t scare Alex half as much.

J
ayne Walker’s
intuition was still in fine working order. That night, after Larkin and Alex had said a reluctant good-night to each other, Jayne called long-distance.

“Your phone’s been busy all evening, honey,” Jayne said. “Are you working on Sundays now, too?”

True to her promise, Larkin had taken the phone off the hook as soon as she and Alex returned to her house. That fact, however, was not one to share with a parent.

“Seven days a week, Mom,” she said truthfully. She told her mother about that morning’s balloon fiasco that had been miraculously turned around. “Even the reporter from
The New York Times
seemed happy when he left.”

“Is this the same Alex Jakobs you went to Roger’s party with?” Leave it to Jayne to cut right through to the essentials.

“Yes, it is.”

“Are you seeing a lot of him?”

“Some.”

“You’re being evasive, Larkin.”

“You’re being nosy, Mom.”

“That’s a mother’s prerogative.”

“Sometimes I think you forget I’m thirty years old. Do you pester Jordan and Billy and Ed and Barry this way?”

“They’re all married. I don’t have to pester them.”

“If I get married, will you stop pestering me?”

“Well, I won’t make any promises, but--”

“That’s almost enough to make me consider walking down the aisle.”

“Is Alex a candidate?”

“We haven’t known each other that long, Mom.”

“Your father and I knew each other only two weeks when we married.”

“Maybe I’m not as daring as you are.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason?”

Larkin recognized that tone in her mother’s voice only too well. “What do you mean, Mother?”

“He’s a widower, Larkin. It takes some men a long time to let go.”

“He’s a psychologist. He seems to have a healthy attitude about it.” She hesitated. “I think I’m the one with the problem.” She told Jayne about how often she thought of Rikki Jakobs. “So many times I have to stop myself from asking a million questions about her.” Questions Jayne would rather not hear.