Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (51 page)

“Jonathan told you that?” Pat asked incredulously.

“Jonathan wouldn’t admit to his own name upon direct questioning,” Blaise said, sitting down beside Pardy as Pat got in the front seat next to Sam. “But when he asked me to help him, he alluded to the fact that I wouldn’t have to do any of the dirty work—that there was already someone there who was capable of doing plenty. He just wanted me along for insurance.”

“What made you suspect Wade?” she asked, looking at the foreman contemptuously. Pardy lowered his eyes, which glowed like red coals of anger.

“Sam saw him skulking around after the break-in. He wasn’t really supposed to be there that day, but made up some story that he was worried about the project and didn’t trust the security men I had hired. Sam felt that if he accused him, the accusation would be discarded because of the situation between these two and because Pardy had seniority. So he told me,” Blaise concluded, as if that said it all.

Pat turned to look at Sam, who looked forward impassively as he guided the ear back to the plant. “My God, you’ve even got Sam in your corner. Is there anything you can’t do?” she asked, turning back to Blaise.

“I can’t think of one thing,” he said and let the matter drop there.

Pat turned back around, not saying anything.

The Eagle was brought back, and with Pardy’s admission of what he had done, the crew at least knew what they were up against. They worked until the wee hours of the morning, trying to rectify the problem, but it wasn’t until two the next afternoon, the afternoon of their deadline, that the plane was once more perched on the runway in the desert, waiting for its maiden voyage.

O’Toole wore his lucky scarf jauntily around his neck as he climbed in again, his fingers crossed and held aloft.

“I think he sees himself as the Red Baron,” Blaise muttered. “But, whatever works.. . .”
 
He and Pat were standing in the same spot they had been in the day before.

Pat was rigid with tension as she witnessed the Eagle’s growing success. It went through its low-speed tests without a single problem. Thank God they had managed to fix the electrical system in time, she thought with relief, shading her eyes from the bright winter sun. Her spirits began to soar as high as she hoped the plane would go. One after another, the tests were passed satisfactorily as the government official at her elbow checked off a list he held on a clipboard. Thomas Blakely, the man representing the Canadian government, stood next to him, his face just as mesmerized as Pat’s was.

The high-speed tests were gone through in haste, as if the pilot was afraid if they dallied, they would not make it. Suddenly Pat saw smoke coming from the brake area.

“They’re overheating!” she cried to Blaise, pointing. She noted that Blaise looked a little worried himself, and panic gripped her heart. Blaise had never looked worried before.

Oh, please let them hold, she thought. Just let them hold until the test is over. Only one more to go, she prayed, looking at the government official’s list.

On the last test, the high-speed taxi test, one of the brakes almost exploded. Sparks flew, and a tire went up in flames. Then another blew, and another, and another.

Pat stood on the edge of the runway, numb. The plane had no wheels and was engulfed in a cloud of black smoke as several people ran around it with fire extinguishers. As the fire went out, so did Pat’s spirits.

“It’s over,” she said in a voice that was devoid of emotion. She was so drained, she was surprised that she was standing up at all. “All those hours of work, over, in one cloud of smoke. Gone. Vanished.” She sighed deeply, not even seeing the expression on Blakely’s face.

She was aware of the fact that it was Sam who took her home, not Blaise. Blaise did not come home until several hours after that, and by then Pat had gone to bed, refusing Angelica’s offer of dinner, turning down the invitation she had gotten earlier to attend a New Year’s Eve party. There was nothing to celebrate anymore. It was all over. Done. Tomorrow need not come, she thought as she pulled the covers over her head, trying hard to shut out all thoughts.

A sleepless eternity later, Pat felt a light tug on her blanket.

“Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?” Blaise asked.

Her arm felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds as she went to pull back the blanket. But Blaise beat her to it. The smile on his face was endearing, and for a moment she forgot her depression.

“I thought only little girls pulled the covers over their heads when they try to pretend the world isn’t there.”

“I wish I were a little girl,” Pat said heavily, lying against her sky-blue pillow. “Then I wouldn’t be involved in any of this.”

“Ah, but then I’d be hauled away on charges of contributing to the delinquency of a minor,” he said.

He succeeded in making her smile. “Well, that’s the first step,” he said, sitting down next to her and putting his feet up on the bed. “Now that we’ve established the fact that you are back among the living and are smiling—sort of—let’s find out what else you can do. Besides cry,” he said, tracing the path where her tears had dried. His touch was so very gentle, she thought.

But she shook her head. “All those people were depending on me,” she said, her voice echoing hollowly in her head.

“You’re not the one who blew a tire,” he said gently.

“I might as well have been,” she said dejectedly. “All I can keep thinking is—now what?”

“Well, tomorrow’s ‘now what’ will be taking that last test again with new tires,” Blaise began.

“What for?” she said hopelessly.

“Patti, it’s not like you to give up so easily. The Eagle is nearly ready to fly, and there are other resources for funding we can explore. It’s only money, remember?”

Pat appreciated his effort to cheer her, but she could not eliminate the overwhelming sense of disappointment that permeated her soul.

“And as for what happens next, I have a pretty good suggestion.” He turned onto his side to look at her.

“I don’t feel like going to a party,” she said, thinking that he was referring to the invitation she had turned down. It had included both of them.

“How about a private one?” he asked. “I promise not to bring even one noise maker.” He kissed her bare arm lightly.

In a single act, he ignited her soul, which needed more than passion tonight. Tonight she needed to be held and loved and assured that all would be well. She needed to have someone make her forget about tomorrow and all the other tomorrows that would carry disappointments with them.

If anyone could accomplish that, Blaise could.

Blaise did.

He took her in his arms and kissed the traces of her tears away softly. His lips brushed hers gently and lovingly at first. He stroked her over and over again, comforting tenderness changing into a passionate tide of motion meant to arouse her very being, which it did all too quickly.

Pat felt herself shedding the mourning pall that had taken hold of her and lifted her arms up to him, putting them around his neck. Her fingers entwined themselves in his thick hair, pulling him toward her. Blaise had managed to wiggle her out of her nightgown.
 
His kisses replaced the straps on her shoulders and found their way down to her heaving breasts. His tongue slowly encircled her hardening nipples, making them peak beneath his mouth as she arched her back up against him, yearning to feel his hot body against her own, drawing comfort, strength, and passion from it.

The spell he wove around her grew as all disappointments were magically pushed from her mind. Nothing mattered now except for Blaise and their private world of fire. She felt her heart pounding as he took her once and then again, a blanketing feeling of peace mingling with new surging desire. All her fears melted in the heat of his kisses as his mouth scorched her skin, laying claim to every inch of her. She moaned in pleasure and anticipation as she sank deeper into the silken sheets. Her mouth clung hungrily to his as satisfaction smothered her senses and paradise drifted back into the mists from which it had come.

“Feeling better?” he asked, looking down at her with a soft, sweet expression.

She opened her eyes to look at him. He was propped up on one elbow, smiling. The look on his face was kinder than any she had ever seen on him. It was devoid of any teasing, any mischief.

“You could make hell bearable,” she said, a dreamy expression on her face.

“That, Patti, is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said, playfully tugging back the sheet that she had wrapped around her breasts.

“You should have nice things said to you,” she said, lovingly touching his face, totally disregarding his pulling at the sheet. She held his face against the palm of her hand. “You’re a thoroughly nice person.”

“That’s not what you thought a little while ago,” he reminded her humorously.

“I was a paranoid woman fighting a multi-headed dragon and trying to fly a paper plane,” she said with a sigh.

“It’ll fly,” he assured her.

“One day too late,” she replied bitterly.

Blaise said nothing.

“Well, at least it brought us together for a while,” she said, and wondered why he looked at her so curiously when she said those words. “I’ll always be grateful for that.”

The clock in the hall chimed twelve times. Blaise lifted her chin until her lips offered themselves to him. “Happy New Year, Patti, darling,” he said, kissing her.

She did not get a chance to say the same words to him as his ardor grew once again.

Pat tried not to feel dejected the next morning, reminding herself that what Blaise had said was true. Nothing should be left undone, even though they probably had lost the Canadian government’s pledge for thirty million dollars. It was still the Eagle, still Roger’s dream, still her goal. Perhaps they would find new funding somewhere else. Blaise had worked one miracle, why shouldn’t they try for two?

Blaise was strangely quiet beside her during the morning’s ride and she wondered if he was thinking about leaving soon. She took in his handsome, well-developed frame, which filled out his three-piece blue-gray suit so well. She would not allow herself to think about the time when he would leave, even though she knew it had to be soon. She had never known him to spend more than a month in one place, and he had been with her almost two. Two months had slipped away as if in a dream, she thought sadly, then shut her mind to it completely.

Pat put on a brave face as the car came back to the same place where they had seen their hopes go up in smoke yesterday. The Eagle, a light blue bird perched on the runway, stood at attention, waiting to pass its final test, as if it did not know that now it was all for naught.

Over to the left stood Blair Afton, who was conferring with Blakely, the Canadian representative. Pat was more than a little surprised to see the men there, especially Blakely. She glanced at Blaise but got no enlightenment there.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Why don’t you go over and find out?” Blaise suggested mildly, as if she were asking about the weather.

“You’re behaving very oddly,” Pat said as she walked quickly to Blakely, pulling her fur parka around her. The wind was cold, she thought.

“A man in my position is never odd,” Blaise called after her, “only eccentric.”

She knew then that something was indeed up. Why didn’t he tell her when he was arranging things? It would take all the worry out of her life, she thought, then reproached herself. Here she was, hoping and building castles in the sky again.

“Good-morning, Mr. Blakely.”

“I certainly hope it is a good morning, Mrs. Hamilton,” he replied politely, his thin face wreathed in smiles.

He certainly looked happy for a man who just lost a contract for a factory, she thought.

Blakely thrust an envelope at her and she looked at him quizzically as she took it.

“It’s from the Prime Minister,” he said.

“Condolences?” she asked archly, taking her time in opening it.

“Hardly,” he replied. “He had it flown here right after Mr. Hamilton spoke to him.”

Pat turned to look at Blaise, who had joined her. On the field behind them, Sam was issuing last-minute orders to the pilot and to the crew, which was giving the Eagle its final check-over.

“What did you have to do with this?” she asked Blaise.

“Why don’t you just read it?” he said. “I’ve never met a woman who asked so many questions,” he said to Blakely, who nodded politely, obviously not sure of an appropriate response.

Pat looked down at the envelope. She looked at Blaise, her eyes wide, and then at Blakely. The postmark read “December 32nd.”

“Still makes it within the year, doesn’t it?” he asked politely, clasping his hands behind his back and making rather a grand show of looking at the aircraft.

Hurriedly, Pat took out the letter. “This letter was carried aboard the first flight of the Hamilton Eagle, which took place on December thirty-second of the year . . .’ “ Pat read no further but threw her arms around Blaise’s neck, her parka hood falling away and her hair coming loose. “Oh you wonderful, wonderful man! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’ve been telling you I was wonderful ever since I arrived,” Blaise said in mock surprise.

“You know what I mean! This!” she cried, waving the envelope and letter in front of him.

“Oh, that. Well, the Canadians don’t want to lose all those extra jobs, you know. And the Prime Minister’s already gone on record saying how he’s picking up the economy and preserving good relations all in one sweep. He wasn’t about to toss that away, now, was he, Blakely?” he asked the man’s back.

Blakely had the good grace not to turn around. “No, sir,” he agreed.

Then Blaise explained, “And I didn’t tell you about this because I wasn’t positive it would work. I just couldn’t chance setting you up for another bout with shattered hopes.”

Pat was speechless for a moment, then ran over to Sam with the document and said excitedly, “Well, let’s get this aboard!”

The look on Sam’s face indicated that he thought something else had gone wrong, but one glance at Pat’s beaming expression was all that was necessary to lay aside any such thoughts.