Under the Covers (43 page)

She tapped long pink nails on the sleek cherry-wood finish. "I'm not supposed to do this, but in this case..." She paused and gestured toward the flowers. "I'll make an exception. Dr. Jensen booked a flight—"

"She's left already?"

"No," the young woman said. "She's taken our special skydiving excursion."

Hunter's stomach plummeted to his feet. "Skydiving?"

"Yes, sir, it's a wonderfully exhilarating experience."

"I know. I did it in the service." And it had scared the crap out of him. "When... when will she be back?"

"Oh, not until tomorrow."

Hunter groaned.

"We have another plane leaving in a few minutes. If you're interested you could meet up with her on the ground."

Hunter's legs trembled like broken guitar strings. He loved Abby desperately. He missed everything about her; the sweet way she'd taken care of his daughter, her intelligence, the way she defended marriage, the way she loved that little mop of a dog, her long, curly hair, that porcelain skin, her husky voice, the way she tucked her bottom into the curve of his body when she slept....

Yes, he had to admit it, he missed her butt. He was no longer a boob man, but an ass man, as long as that ass belonged to Abby. And right now he wanted to hold it in his hands so badly he was shaking.

Or maybe he was shaking at the thought of diving out of a plane again.

He'd come too damn far to wait another day to see her. Besides, the way his luck was running, he'd wind up missing her again.

But could he really face his fear of heights and jump out of a plane for her?

Chapter 29

Fulfilling the Fantasy

Abby recited the details of operating the parachute in her mind as the time for the group to make their jump approached. Sunshine glittered off the mountain peaks, casting the trees in a golden glow. Puffy white clouds floated along like cotton candy, the hum of the plane mingling with the wind.

The two men dove first, the next skydiver a middle-aged woman who squealed and squawked as she stepped up to the doorway's edge. With a hoot of excitement, she yelled, "Geronimo," and jumped. Abby's heart raced as she watched the others freefall, then pull the ripcord to open their parachutes.

"Are you ready, Dr. Jensen?"

A moment of apprehension attacked her, but her reasons for the jump flooded her, so she nodded, took a deep breath, and made the dive.

The air swept her into its current, and she thought she heard the guide shout, "Bombs away," as he jumped after her. Then Abby lifted her arms and floated down, reveling in the wind beating her face and the freedom of flying. As she soared toward the lush green grass, she remembered the fantasy she had told Hunter about—the one about making love on the side of a mountain.

That fantasy would probably never come true—because her heart belonged to Hunter.

And he was out of her life forever.

After two horrible relationships, how could she even think of another?

* * *

Hunter glanced out the plane, the wind rushing through the opening, pulling and sucking at him as if it would jerk him out any second.

His stomach was tied in as many knots as a rope he'd once used for practicing his Boy Scout loops. He'd never unraveled those knots; would his stomach come untangled once his feet hit the ground?

Provided he made it that far and didn't have a heart attack in midair.

The plane soared close to the mountain, the engine sputtered, and the plane jerked. Cool air surged inside the cabin, the whistle of the wind screaming, and he wrapped his fingers around the metal handhold in a death grip. The instructor eyed him skeptically as he reminded Hunter of the basics.

"We can go out together if you want, sir."

Hunter stared at the scrawny twenty-year-old and grimaced. So the young man was a daredevil. Hunter couldn't help it that he had an irrational fear of heights. "No, I'm fine. I've done this before."
And lived,
he reminded himself. He couldn't very well act like a wienie in front of this kid. But nausea rose to his throat, almost choking him.

He'd charged this excursion to the paper, he reminded himself. And he'd promised his boss a story out of it, his first for the sports section, another reason he had to go through with the jump.

He hugged the window and looked out, his legs trembling as the scenery whizzed by in a blur. Taking a calming breath, he willed his head to stop spinning and his heart rate to return to normal. But his pulse was hammering away, the blood roaring in his ears, battling against the loud sound of the plane's engine.

"We're almost there," the guide said, pointing to a clearing. "The other group just landed."

Hunter nodded, his gaze glued to the daunting distance between himself and the ground. It was a long way down.

"Okay, are you ready?"

Hell, no.

"You're kind of green, mister. You don't have to do this if you're too nervous."

He glared at the young boy and thought of Abby. He couldn't back out now.

Praying he didn't freeze and forget how to operate the parachute, then end up splattered in pieces all over the mountainside, he stepped to the edge, closed his eyes, and jumped. He would prove to Abby he loved her.

Either that or he'd die trying.

* * *

"Oh, my heavens," Winnie, the middle-aged woman with Abby's group, cried. "We've got company."

"That guy needs to pull his cord." The guide shaded his eyes with his hand as he squinted at the sky.

Abby studied the man's features. Something about him seemed familiar, but he was falling so fast she couldn't see his face.

"Pull the cord!" the guide yelled.

"Do it now," Winnie shouted.

"He's going to crash," somebody else exclaimed.

They all screamed at once for him to pull, but the wind grabbed their voices and tossed them away. The man threw out his arms and rocked from side to side, throwing his body off balance, and the wind swept him toward the forest.

"Pull!" everyone shouted again.

Abby held her breath. Finally he stiffened and released his parachute. It jerked him up slightly; then he floated downward, but his delay in pulling the cord had caused him to veer so far off course, he was sailing straight toward a grove of trees.

Abby's group ran toward the woods, all yelling for him to hang on.

A man's shout echoed in the wind. The parachute caught on a tree and he dangled like a rag doll, arms and legs flapping wildly while the excess material floated down on top of him. He jerked and pulled and pushed, trying to clear his head from the leaves and the billowing parachute. Several seconds later, his head bobbed out.

Abby's mouth gaped open in shock. "Hunter?"

He jerked his legs and arms, trying to untangle himself. "Abby, I had to see you."

"Hang on," the guide shouted. "We'll get help."

Hunter kicked and swung his body toward a lower branch, but missed and dangled back, legs flailing wildly. He tried it again, the sound of the tree limb breaking renting the air.

"Don't move," the guide shouted. He motioned to the group, and they ran for assistance.

"Hunter, what are you doing here?" Abby shouted. She'd fantasized about having the man on his knees, but hanging from a tree? "I thought you were afraid of heights."

"I am!" The parachute slipped, the branch vibrated and cracked, and Hunter's body swayed with it. "But I love you, and I'm more afraid of losing you than I am of heights."

Abby's heart constricted.

"I tried to catch you in Atlanta. I went to your house, but your sisters and grandmother said you'd gone." The branch lowered another notch. "And I tried to make it to the airport but my car broke down and it was storming—"

"Hunter, stop moving!" Abby shouted. The tree branch groaned again.

"Then the flights were canceled because of the weather, and I had to stay the night at the airport on a bench and my wallet got stolen—"

"Oh, my gosh," Abby whispered.

The tree cracked again.

"And when I arrived, there weren't any vacant rooms, and you'd already left to come here."

He had jumped out of a plane for her.

The branch snapped in another place, wood splintered and rained downward, and he slipped a few more feet. Winnie screamed. Abby pressed her hand over her mouth to keep from doing the same. Hunter stared up at the yards of parachute and the tree, then at the ground, the color draining from his face.

"I mean it, Abby. I love you, and don't you dare stop looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. The world needs more people like you, and if I live"—his voice shook in the wind; she could hear his fear—"I'll spend the rest of my life making up for all the stupid lies and those dumb articles about you."

Abby yelped. "Hunter—"

The limb cracked completely in two and gave way. Hunter yelled as he careened toward the ground.

* * *

As Hunter flew through the air, his life flashed in front of him. The headlines would read:
Idiot Man Afraid of Heights Dies by Falling out of Tree while Proposing.
He could see the photo of his body flat on the dirt, the roving grizzlies nibbling at him like bear meat. Or if he did survive the fall, his lungs and throat would start bleeding from altitude sickness. Or worse, he might smash his skull and end up brain-dead or paralyzed.

He just wished he could hear Abby say she loved him one time before he died.

Determined to fight for his life, he gripped the parachute ropes and tried to bend his knees, remembering the tips the guide had offered so he wouldn't break a leg in the landing. But the tips were meant for a parachute soaring in, not for a man attached to half a tree traveling straight down at full speed. Wind stung his face and nausea rolled through him, but he had to tell Abby one more time that he loved her before he died.

"I love you. Marry me!" The wind caught his words, the echo bouncing off the mountain and repeating itself.
Love you, marry me... love you, marry me... love you, marry me...

Then his body collided with the ground, his head hit a rock, and blackness swirled in front of his eyes. One moment of heaven flashed in front of him in the form of Abby's face before his vision faded. Abby lifted his head in her lap and brushed his hair back so tenderly, tears pricked his eyes.

Or maybe it was blood trickling over his face.

"Did you mean it, Hunter?"

"Yes, marry me, Abby...."

Abby pressed her lips to his and whispered yes just before he faded into the darkness.

* * *

Later that night, Abby and Hunter lay curled together on a blanket under the stars, the moon gleaming like candlelight across the valley below. He had sprinkled the wilted, crushed flower petals all around her in the shape of a heart.

"I was trying to be romantic, Abby. I wanted to make love to you on a bed of rose petals."

"You are romantic, Hunter. You jumped out of a plane for me." Abby stroked the bandage on Hunter's head. "Are you sure you're all right? We can still get them to airlift you to a hospital."

Hunter shot her a crazed look. "No, no, I'm fine. But I think I'm finished with flying for a while."

Abby chuckled, her laughter dying when Hunter reached up and pulled at her shirt, slowly unbuttoning the top button. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Abby."

Abby bit down on her lip, emotions clogging her throat. "I told a few of my own."

"But I understand your reasons now." He quirked his head sideways. "I have something for you."

She arched a delicate brow, her breath hitching when he handed her the article. "Hunter, it doesn't matter—"

"Yes, it does." He pressed his finger to her lips. "Read it."

She nodded, unfolded the paper, and read the beginning of the article.

You can't judge a book by its cover. I learned that lesson when I went undercover to get the dirt on Dr. Jensen. Instead of a scandalous author with loose morals, interested only in self-promotion, I found a woman with strong values and a lot of love in her heart—a woman who possesses all the best characteristics of a traditional American wife and mother, while maintaining her identity as a modern sexual woman. In short, Abby Jensen has it all.

Abby blinked back tears. "It's beautiful."

"That's how I feel about you, Abby." He handed her an envelope—the pictures Lenny had taken.

"I didn't look at them," he said, reading the question in her eyes.

Her other eyebrow rose.

"Well, maybe a glance." He chuckled. "But we're burning them, baby, 'cause the only pictures of you naked that I want around will be ones I take."

A smile tugged at Abby's mouth. "Oh, so are you into kinky sex?"

He shrugged. "I'm into pleasing you."

"I like the sound of that." Abby laughed. "Maybe that should be the title of my sequel."

"Only if I get to help you research it."

Abby slid her leg between his, rubbing the hard muscles of his calf with her foot. "Or I could write one on unusual proposals. I think you parachuting from a plane and proposing while dangling from a tree would make a catchy opening."