Dates And Other Nuts Page 16

  Glancing at his watch, he stood. “It’s getting late.”

  “What do I tell Susan?”

  He reached for his sunglasses and slid them on. “Tell her to wear a red dress if she has one.”

  SUSAN WAS A KNOCKOUT. Tall, blond, sense of humor and legs that wouldn’t quit.

  Craig had to admit she tried hard to please. He couldn’t seem to make the effort at small talk so she’d carried most of the conversation during dinner.

  He tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but failed. His thoughts were on Temple. Her flight to Chicago was predicted to hit some heavy snow in the Midwest. She was flying in an ATR twin-engine turboprop. The Frenchmade commuter had been experiencing problems with icing recently. A debate was ongoing whether or not to ground the plane during inclement weather.

  Why worry, Stevens? She’ll be down by midnight, the storm isn’t due until closer to morning. The pilot’s experienced. Since when did flying cause you reason for alarm?

  “Dinner was wonderful. Is this a favorite place of yours?”

  Craig pulled his thoughts back to Susan. She was beautiful, intelligent, worked for two of the city’s prominent attorneys. The evening was turning out to be pleasant, so why was he finding it so hard to concentrate?

  “The Bird’s Nest? Actually, Temple found this restaurant. She’s partial to their prime rib.”

  Susan leaned forward, smiling, her inquisitive green eyes meeting his. “You’ve known Temple a long time?”

  “A long time.” His gaze returned to the window to study the bank of low clouds moving in.

  Stop worrying about her, Stevens. She’s okay.

  A couple of hours later, he paid the bar tab while Susan went to the rest room. The evening had gone smoothly. The first date in a month that hadn’t been a disaster. The news should make Temple happy.

  Susan had come in a cab so he’d offered to take her home. Afterward, he’d go work out at the gym.

  When the valet brought the Lincoln around, Susan let out a squeal. “Ohhhh, a Lincoln!”

  Startled, Craig turned to look at her and missed the door handle. They had just spent four-plus pleasant hours together. She hadn’t giggled, snickered, prattled or yakked once.

  But now she’d squealed. He’d heard it.

  “Oh, I love it!” She ran a hand over the smooth finish on the fender. “May I drive it?”

  The request caught him off guard. “Well—”

  “Oh, thank you! I adore these big luxury cars. They’re so cool to drive. Know what I mean?”

  He didn’t. Didn’t have a clue, actually, but he acquiesced and climbed into the passenger’s seat and buckled his seat belt.

  As they pulled away from the curb, Susan deftly merged with the traffic and he relaxed. She seemed to know what she was doing. Maybe she just had a fetish for big cars.

  She moved smoothly with the traffic flow, eventually drifting into the fast lane. The speedometer needle was on fifty when she suddenly drifted across the center line, heading straight for an oncoming car.

  He lunged for the wheel, cursing. The car lurched sharply.

  Righting himself, he looked over at her. “What are you doing?”

  The RPM needle shot upward as she looked back at him.

  When she didn’t say anything, he grabbed her arm to get her attention and emphasize his words. “What are you doing? Keep your eyes on the road!” he yelled over the engine’s zoar.

  Shrugging, she appeared to concentrate, and he sat back in the seat again, eyeing her sourly.

  “Sorry.”

  “No problem,” he murmured. Mistakes happen. He thought of the synonym he could have used and deemed it more appropriate.

  They had gone another five miles when she did it again. Quick reflexes were all that saved them from having a head-on with a semi.

  The engine roared like a jet as they barreled down the highway, still straddling the center line.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled.

  She glanced at him idly. “What?”

  “You’re going to kill us both. Get in your lane!” He gestured to an emergency-stop area. “Pull over!” He’d had enough!

  Calmly drifting back into her lane, she maneuvered through the traffic toward the ramp.

  When the car stopped, he looked at her, shaken. “Why did you do that?”

  “I don’t know.” she shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Drifting into the opposite lane—that’s suicidal.”

  She seemed nonplussed. “Sorry.”

  “Do you want me to drive?”

  “No,” she said, looking offended. “I can drive.”

  “All right. But keep your mind on the road.”

  Flipping down the visor to reveal a lighted mirror, she checked her lipstick. “Will you want to have sex?”

  His mouth fell open and his mind went blank.

  She glanced at him, still smoothing her lipstick. “Well?”

  “Um, I hadn’t thought about it.” He did now, and he didn’t want it. Not with her.

  “I’m agreeable.”

  He glanced behind them and indicated for her to pull back into the traffic. “Keep driving.”

  “I’m into handcuffs and chains,” she said.

  “What?”

  She flipped the visor back into place, checked the traffic, then drove onto the freeway. “Do you have any fetishes? Feet do anything for you?”

  He began searching for the nearest exit.

  “Pull off here.”

  She whipped off the freeway and he managed to brace himself enough to avoid whiplash. They were approaching a traffic signal when he felt the car surge.

  “The light’s turning red!” he shouted.

  “I can beat it.” She gunned through the intersection. As they passed beneath the signal, his entire life flashed before his eyes.

  “Stop!”

  She slammed on the brakes, which nearly propelled him through the windshield again. Ashen-faced, he gripped the dash with white knuckles. Sweat trickled down his temples. The fish he ate for dinner soured in his stomach.

  He drew a deep breath, and struggled to control his voice. “What are you doing?”

  She looked at him innocently. “You said ‘pull off here.”’

  He leaned back, wiping sweat off his brow.

  “Do you wear glasses?”

  “Yes, but not when I drive,” she said crossly. She pulled back onto the road. “You should have said you’re nervous in traffic. I would have slowed down. Here. Is this slow enough for you?”

  By the time they reached her apartment building, she had slowed to the point that cars were honking and flashing lights as they swerved around them.

  Driving two miles an hour, she carefully turned the car into the driveway of her apartment building. Spotting an empty parking space, she flipped on the blinker.

  The blinker. Now she puts on the blinker, he thought crossly.

  Susan stopped the car, judiciously eyeing the parking space.

  Finally maneuvering the big car into the space, she failed to straighten the wheels.

  Instead of turning off the engine, she rummaged through her purse, fishing out her keys.

  She checked her makeup in the visor mirror again. His hands clenched into fists.

  Reaching into the back seat for her coat, she rummaged in a pocket.

  His nerves were raw.

  “The...blinker... is...on,” he said, emphasizing each word.

  “Hmm?”

  He gritted his teeth. “You forgot to turn off the blinker.”

  “Okay.” She flipped off the lights.

  “The lights go off automatically.”

  “Okay.” She flipped them back on. “So—want to come up?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You sure?”

  He was positive.

  Unlocking his apartment door a half hour later, he tossed his keys onto the coffee table and noticed the message light on his answer
ing machine blinking.

  Pushing the play button, he listened to Scotty’s message, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

  “If you’re there, Craig, pick up.” A momentary silence. “Look, uh, Temple’s in trouble. You knew she took Janeanne’s flight to Chicago. There’s bad weather. It came in earlier than expected and they’ve run into trouble. Knew you’d want to know. I’m at the tower keeping an eye on things. Hope this is over by the time you get home, buddy.”

  Craig turned on his heel, and headed back out the door, scooping up his keys on the way. Ten minutes later, he was speeding toward the airport.

  Scotty met him at the door of the tower. Behind him Craig could see three men huddled around a table. A fourth was on the phone.

  “What’s going on?”

  Scotty’s voice was tight with tension. “Temple’s ATR is hanging over Chicago. Heavy air traffic has put them in a holding pattern. There are a dozen planes they’re trying to get down while they still can. The plane is experiencing heavy icing—”

  Stepping into the tower, Craig joined the men gathered around the console. He could hear a voice coming over the speakerphone. Outside the glass tower the clear cool night mocked him.

  One of the senior officers turned. “Stevens. What are you doing here?”

  Pilots weren’t supposed to be in the tower, but this, he knew, would be an exception. It didn’t hurt that Craig was considered a top-notch pilot and might be able to lend some experience to the situation.

  “Are you in contact with the plane?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” the man said. “We’ve got Temple on the phone.”

  Craig leaned over the speaker.

  “Temple?”

  “Craig? Oh, I’m so glad you’re there.”

  Craig sat down, blocking out his surroundings. All that he was conscious of was the fear in Temple’s voice.

  “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

  “It’s not good.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “About... about as well as a turkey the day before Thanksgiving.”

  He smiled slightly, reading the attempt to keep him from hearing the stress in her voice.

  “We’re monitoring things here,” he told her. “Who’s the pilot?”

  “Dave DeCosta.”

  “How many on board, Temple?”

  “Sixty-four passengers, four crew.”

  Her voice sounded small, unsure. Frightened. He’d never heard that in her before.

  “You’re in good hands,” he said reassuringly. “Dave knows his way around a plane.” Craig glanced up at the strained faces circling him. “Are you really all right?”

  “A little nervous, uh, we’re in a holding pattern at...eight thousand feet.”

  The air controller closest to Craig leaned in and spoke directly into his ear so Temple wouldn’t hear. “Wind gusts to fifty miles per hour, ground temperature thirty-two degrees and falling. Rain turning to freezing rain, blowing almost horizontally. If he’d been a half hour earlier, they’d have made it easy. The front moved in faster than the tower anticipated, hanging up several flights. Air-traffic control in Chicago is trying to get them down in order. The ATR’s last in line.”

  A list of the recent spate of accidents involving the commuter during bad weather flashed through Craig’s mind. Perfectly safe, except in extreme conditions. And these conditions were extreme.

  “What’s O’Hare saying?”

  “They’ve got their hands full,” the official said. “It’s a real bitch. An inch of ice and more falling. The crew’s trying to clear a couple of runways, but they’re not making much headway. The runways ice over almost as fast as they can clear. They need a break real bad.”

  “Craig?”

  The quaver in Temple’s voice told Craig how scared she was. The others glanced at one another, indicating they’d heard it, too. The chief ran a hand down his face in frustration and concern.

  “I’m here,” Craig told her.

  “I’m glad. But you always have been,” she said, her voice higher and lighter than normal. “I guess...I guess I’ve abused that, in a way. I’m sorry. About everything. I just...I just didn’t want to lose—Can you forgive me?”

  “Temple, honey...we’ll talk later.”

  “Craig?”

  “Yeah.” He hated hearing the fear in her voice, hated not being able to talk to her alone, to tell her everything would be all right and make her believe it.

  “If...if we don’t get a chance to talk—”

  “Temple, get hold of yourself—”

  Her words came in a rush. “But if we don’t, I have to say this. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About...about us. About what happened...that night. I’m glad it happened. I might never have known—I’ve been an idiot, Craig. Up here, well, I can see everything clearly now.”

  “Temple—” He turned his back to the others and lowered his voice. In a calm voice, he said, “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. There should be candles, low lights, wine, you in my arms, not you in some damned machine eight thousand feet aboveground and me here. When you get down, we’ll talk about this—”

  Temple didn’t seem to hear him. “I talked to Grams about us. I told her I was worried. She’s a smart lady. She told me that things now aren’t so different than when she was young. She made me realize that what I...what I feel for you isn’t wrong. It’s right. Very right. I just wasn’t sure what it was. And I wasn’t sure how you felt—I know we agreed not to talk about it—”

  Suddenly reminded that they were on a speakerphone, Craig looked up into the face of one of the women air-traffic controllers. Accusation was clear in her dark eyes. She obviously thought he was the biggest jerk of all time. He wasn’t sure he disagreed.

  The men were studying him with speculation.

  “Temple—”

  “No, don’t stop me. I want to say this. I’ve got to say it, in case—I want you to know... I’ve known for weeks. I just couldn’t admit it to myself. You know, the antipilotrelationship thing, and Nancy. Well, I know they were just excuses because I was scared. But I...I can’t leave without saying it—”

  “You’re not ‘leaving.’ Where’s your training?”

  “Training? I forgot every word of it about thirty minutes ago.”

  He closed his eyes, aching to hold her. Aching to tell her he felt the same.

  “I love you, Craig. I have for a long time—” Her voice broke and his hands clenched. “I was just too... blind to recognize it.”

  “Temple—”

  A sniff drew his attention to the group crowding close. The air-traffic controller who’d glared at him so accusingly now had tears in her eyes. She stood with one hand covering her mouth.

  Scotty stood nearby, listening soberly, his gaze locking with Craig’s when he looked up.

  “Don’t stop me,” Temple continued. “I want you to know that I love you. And that night in Houston? I wasn’t asleep. I knew you were making love to me. I deliberately led you on... because I had to know—

  “I’ve fallen in love with you, and it scares me,” she said in a rush of words. “We were so close and I was so afraid things would change. I...I didn’t—” A sob broke her voice. “I didn’t want to lose what we had by taking a chance on more. And it has changed things, hasn’t it? It’s changed everything. Nothing’s been the same between us since—”

  “Temple, we’ll talk about this later—”

  “No! I don’t have any more time to waste. I’ve wasted too much already. I knew your every thought, the things you like, the things you don’t like. We could always talk about anything. I guess that’s what makes our relationship so special. So special I didn’t want to lose it.” She managed a little laugh. “Well, we know each other a lot better now, don’t we? I just...I just wanted to know what... what being in love was like. And now I know. At least, I know what it’s like to fall in love with you.” She was quiet for a moment. “It’s beautiful,” she whisper
ed. “The most perfect thing anyone could ever experience. It’s like...being reborn. Everything looks different, tastes different. I...I always looked forward to seeing you every day. But now...now it’s as if I can’t breathe until I see you...”

  She let the words drift away.

  “Temple?” Craig sat up straighter. “What is it?”

  He glanced up at the controllers. One was on the phone and caught his gaze and held it.

  “They’re going to try it,” the controller said softly. “The other planes are down. One skidded off the runway and there are some injuries but it looks like everything is okay. The plows are out clearing a second runway. They’re going to try putting Dave down on it. It’s the only chance they’ve got.”

  “How’s the wind?”

  “Velocity down a bit, rain has abated a little.”

  Not much of a change, but it was all they had.

  “Oh. Okay.” Her voice came back to him over the line. “Craig, Dave’s been cleared to land.”

  “Temple—”

  Drawing a deep breath, she whispered, “I have to hang up now. Goodbye—I love you.”

  Then the connection was broken.

  Craig sank into a chair, staring at the speakerphone, his eyes stinging.

  Dammit! He hadn’t told her he loved her.

  14

  “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, the captain has been cleared to land. Please check your seat belts and assume the crash position. Place pillows in your lap, lean forward so your head is between your knees, lock your hands behind your head...” And pray, Temple added silently.

  Temple glanced at Sarah, the other flight attendant. Her fear was mirrored in Sarah’s eyes.

  “You will feel a bump when we set down on the runway,” she told the passengers. “Please remain in your seats until the aircraft stops moving. Every precaution has been taken for a safe landing. When I give the world, please move quickly toward exits. Parents, keep children close in front of you and hold on to them at all times. Chutes will be deployed for exits. Sarah and I will assist you onto the slide, and emergency personnel will be waiting to catch you at the bottom. Are there any questions?”

  The only sound in the cabin was the engines laboring and a child whimpering.

  Temple had been flying for years and this was her first emergency. She knew pilots who’d flown all their lives and never encountered trouble.