Blindsided Page 16

  “Well, he’s the one I see watching you.” The bracelets jangled as she pointed back over her shoulder. “Always has this big silly grin all over his face like he knows the best joke in the world and can’t tell anyone. He’s the one who had me order—” She looked off toward the window and puckered her lips. “Oops,” she finished quietly.

  “Order what?”

  Lakisha met her gaze for a half second and then went back to staring out the window. “Ah…”

  Cat came to her feet. “Order what, Lakisha?”

  “Logan, huh?” She considered her nails. She glanced up. “It’s not you and Nic going to Des Moines this afternoon?”

  “No. It’s Logan. What did Nic have you order?”

  “So why is he grinning all the time and looking so damn happy?” she asked her nails. “What’s he got to be happy about? He ain’t got the girl.”

  “I don’t know. What—”

  “Logan Dupree.” She shook her head and turned to go back to her desk. “Lord have mercy.”

  Okay, begging might work. “Lakisha, please. I hate surprises.”

  Lakisha turned back and wagged her finger. “Well, don’t you worry. Next time Dominic Parisi brings that fine Italian butt of his through here, I’ll just pin him to the wall and ask him. And he’s not getting loose until he spills it. His mama won’t have any secrets left by the time I’m done with him.” She walked off, calling back, “You have fun this weekend, you hear? Bring him to his knees and make him beg.”

  “Order what?” she whimpered, dropping back into her chair. “I’ll kill him if he screws this up for us.” She dropped her chin into her hands and sighed, feeling slightly queasy. Her gaze fell on the planner. Four o’clock flight. She was meeting Logan in the airport bar.

  She glanced at her watch. Just over two hours. She blinked and looked back down at the planner. The meeting with the banquet people! She vaulted to her feet, grabbed the package and snagged her purse off the credenza on her way out the door.

  “See you Monday!” she said as she zipped past Lakisha. She managed to open the door and extend the handle on her suitcase in one smooth motion. And then she was running for the car, too late to give Nic another thought.

  Logan absently circled his glass around in the puddle of condensate on the table and watched Cat cross the drive with her suitcase in tow. Why the woman always wore clothes too big for her… A man would never know looking at her that there was a killer body under the baggy jeans, the draping henley and the hanging leather jacket. Maybe that’s what she had in mind. He was glad she’d let him past the camouflage, though. Damn glad. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a week counting the days to a business trip.

  Of course if she got around to thinking about the actual business part of this little jaunt they were taking, some of the fun was going to go out of it. Well, for a few seconds, anyway. Logan smiled. She had awesome buttons and he knew just how to push them. He could make her forget all about team rosters. He stood as she came through the revolving door, smiled back at her as she made a beeline toward the entrance to the bar.

  “Hi,” she said, walking into his arms. Her kiss was sweet and open and so good he practically whimpered when she drew back. “Congrats on the win in Tulsa last night,” she said, her arms still around his waist. “I thought it was a good game. Crockett seems to fit well.”

  The new kid wasn’t working the miracle she hoped he would. But Logan wasn’t going to open a can of worms by telling her that. “He’s doing his job.” He kissed the end of her nose and pulled his arms back saying, “You cut it kinda close. We taxi in thirty.”

  “This is Wichita, not LAX or LaGuardia,” she countered as he pulled up the handle of his bag. “It doesn’t take long to screen ten white bread people. Finish your drink.”

  “Nah, it’s watered down.”

  She reached past him and snagged the glass. “Good, I’m thirsty.” She tipped it up and downed the contents in three huge gulps. Logan blinked, mentally calculating just how little of the double he’d actually consumed. She shuddered, wrinkled her nose and put the empty glass down. “Eeeuw, scotch. Only thing worse is gin.”

  He chuckled and took her hand. “You’ll never be an alcoholic,” he observed as they headed out of the bar and toward the ticket counter.

  “Who would want to be?”

  Interesting question. If he’d been forced to answer it, he’d have to admit that he’d spent the past ten years flirting around the edges of it. The last year, he’d definitely been giving it a serious try. But in the past couple of months, since he’d come to Wichita, he’d barely thought about tipping one back. Yeah, every now and then he’d had one. But it was more for something to do with his time, with his hands, than trying to get oblivious.

  He provided his driver’s license, answered the ticket girl’s standard questions and handed over his bag while wondering why the whole drinking thing had changed for him. Being a coach was more time-consuming than being a player had been. He didn’t have as much time to drink. And then there were the effects of boozing, too. Being wasted on the ice wasn’t nearly as noticeable as it was behind the bench. Instinct took over once sharpened steel hit frozen water. Off ice, he was learning by doing and it was way too easy to screw up if his brain was even the least bit fuzzy or distracted.

  He stopped abruptly, brought up short. Stopped dead in her tracks, Cat was staring down at the boarding passes in her hand.

  “Is there a problem?”

  She looked up at him. “We’re in first-class.”

  “That’s not a problem, Cat. It’s a blessing.” He drew her along, past the gift shop and up the ramp toward security.

  “Did you upgrade the seats?”

  “You booked us coach?”

  “Well, yes. I’ve never flown first-class in my life. I don’t have this kind of money.”

  “If it’s a mistake,” he said, dumping the contents of his pockets into the tray, “I’m damn glad for it. If they catch it and ask you to pay the difference, I’ll take care of it.” He passed through the security gate without setting it off and went to pick up his belongings at the end of the belt. Cat was a single step behind him.

  “You’re not going to argue with me over that?” he asked.

  She slung her purse over her shoulder. “Over what?”

  “Never mind. What’s worrying you now?”

  “I’ll bet it was Nic. He knows about…” She motioned between the two of them.

  Chuckling, he slipped his arm around her shoulder, drew her close and then turned them toward the gate. Her arm went easily around his waist. “Yeah,” he said as they ambled along, “when I put on my shirt that night, I put it on wrong side out. When I got back to the room, I just fell into bed, dead. He noticed first thing the next morning.”

  “I knew when you left that he was going to figure it out.”

  “So he knows, Cat. It’s no big deal. We’re both of legal age and neither one of us is cheating on anyone. I’m not going to feel guilty about enjoying ourselves. And you shouldn’t, either. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said easily as she slipped away from his side and toward a water fountain. He stopped and watched her fish a pill bottle out of her purse, shake something out and then throw it into her mouth. It went down her throat with a drink of water while she tucked the vial away.

  “Headache?” he asked as she came back to his side.

  “Nope,” she said. “Twenty milligrams of chemical courage.”

  In other words, a honking sedative. “You’re a white knuckle flyer?”

  “Oh, the worst,” she admitted, laughing. “Without drugs, I’m one air pocket away from being a national news story.”

  “Why didn’t you say something? We could have driven up.”

  She grinned up at him. “Because with one little pill and twenty minutes, it won’t make any difference. I guarantee you that I’ll be the only one on board smiling as we spiral toward the earth.”

  The
flight attendant keyed the mic and called for all first-class passengers, unattended children and those needing assistance to board. Logan checked the flight numbers posted behind the woman to make sure it was theirs and then motioned Cat toward the ramp door. “After you, Ms. Earhart.”

  “She was a Kansan, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Cat handed the attendant their boarding passes and they each produced their driver’s licenses. As they moved on, she looked back over her shoulder at him and said, “I’m a cornucopia of trivia. Did you know that the black box on a plane re ally isn’t black? It’s orange. So they can find it easier in the wreckage.”

  “Then why do they call it a black box?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we could ask the pilot. I bet he could tell us.”

  More like call security and have them hauled down to the local FBI office. “Or maybe we can keep ourselves out of trouble and let it be one of life’s little unsolved mysteries.”

  They passed the flight crew and stepped into the first-class section. Cat checked their passes and dropped into their assigned seats. “You’re right,” she said softly while belting herself in. “Asking about black boxes is probably right up there with saying the word…You know.” With her hands, she made a small pantomime. He couldn’t read lips well enough to tell whether it was “boom” or “bomb,” but he got the general idea. He also got the distinct impression that she had zero tolerance for drugs.

  He sat down beside her. “Have you had anything to eat today?”

  “A low-carb bar for breakfast. I haven’t had time for anything else. Came here straight from a meeting with the people at the Petroleum Club to go over the menu for the auction night.”

  So what she’d had was no food to speak of in twenty-four hours, a good shot and a half of scotch and a sedative. She was skipping her way toward Toasted Lane.

  “Do you like bone shows, Logan?”

  “What shows?”

  “Bone shows. Forensics, scientific crime solving, that sort of stuff. That’s where I learned about the…it …really being orange. Did you know that the tail section of a plane has the greatest structural integrity? If the lavatory had passenger restraints, it’d be the safest seat in a crash situation.”

  “You need to stop watching those bone shows.”

  She smiled up at him. A relaxed, I’m-loaded-and-feeling-no-pain smile. “Really? Why?”

  “You just scare yourself.”

  She leaned forward and took the plastic coated safety card out of the magazine pouch. “I’m not scared. I’m well informed.”

  And, Lord love her, she dug right into adding to the storehouse of her knowledge. Logan smiled, propped his elbow on the armrest, his chin in his hand, and watched her as the other passengers filed past. She checked to make sure the exit door was where the picture said it was. She studied the panel over their heads out of which the oxygen masks would drop if the cabin lost pressure. She felt the edges of the seat cushion on either side of her hips. He could see her mentally going through the motions of pulling it out and getting her arms through the straps like they showed in the drawings. He considered mentioning that going down into either the Missouri River or a farm pond would be a total fluke, but decided that it was probably information she was better off without.

  The door to the ramp was pulled closed. Beside him Cat took a deep breath. Ahead of him, the chief stewardess began her final walk-through before they taxied back from the gate. He saw her gaze skim over Cat, saw her take note of the safety card clutched in her hand. The woman looked at him and arched a brow in silent question. He nodded and smiled and mouthed “I got her.”

  Satisfied, the woman moved out of first class. Logan reached over, took the card out of Cat’s hands and returned it to the pocket. She wasn’t comfortable about letting go of it, but the scotch and the sedative had dulled her just enough that she didn’t fight him. He laced his fingers through hers. She looked up at him and smiled. On the surface she was calm and accepting, the easy, done-it-a-thousand-times trav eler. But deep down in her eyes, he could see the edgy, desperate current of fear. How could he make that go away?

  Her attention darted away from him and came back just as quickly. “You need to pay attention, Logan. They’re getting ready to do the safety thing.”

  “I’ve seen it before.”

  “Well, so have I, but you need to make sure they haven’t changed anything since the last time. Your life and the lives of others depend on knowing what to do in an emergency.”

  God, so damn earnest. So committed to jumping through the hoops. Like if she didn’t, he realized, she’d be jinxing herself. He settled back in his seat and made a real effort at doing his part to avoid disaster. Anything to help her get through this. They’d rent a car and drive back, he decided as the stewies strapped themselves in and the plane turned onto the runway.

  She tightened her grip on his hand. “I hate this part,” she said as the engines went full-bore and they picked up speed. “Did you know that, percentage-wise, most crashes occur during take—”

  She melted the instant his lips touched hers. The plane bumped and lumbered down the concrete and he compensated for the motion, slipping his hands through her hair and drawing her closer so he could deepen their kiss. So he could make her forget about everything in the world except him. He went slowly, to make it last for all kinds of reasons that had nothing to do with landing gears and flaps and banking out. She was so delicious. Ripe and lush and so incredibly thrilling. Better than any buzz that he’d ever gotten out of a bottle.

  And way more addicting, too. He eased away, slowly ending their kiss. Thoughts about the Mile High Club flickered through his mind again as she smiled and sighed in a contented, dreamy way. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

  “You are so good,” she whispered, nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder.

  He chuckled and wrapped his other arm around her. “And you are so stoned.”

  “I feel wonderful. And it has nothing to do with pharmaceuticals.”

  Yeah, right. And he had two good eyes. “How long is it going to take to wear off?”

  “A week. Maybe two. Definitely less than a month.”

  His smile faded. Being with Cat wasn’t like any other affair he’d ever had. There was a wholeness to it. Everything ran deeper. It was more than just going through the motions to get laid. He swallowed hard and faced the truth squarely. Yeah, they both knew this was for fun, not forever. But, a week into it, he already knew what Cat apparently hadn’t figured out yet—that it was going to take longer than a month for this affair to wind down. Actually, it could be the end of the season before it went the way all the others had, before the new wore off and the boredom set in. His smiled again, deciding that it could turn out to be the most satisfying season he’d ever had off the ice. He wasn’t about to walk away from that. Not too soon, anyway.

  Cat sighed happily and let Logan lead her down the concourse toward baggage claim. If she could travel with Logan all the time, she’d fly to the moon and back twice a month. It was nice cuddling in big wide seats. It was really nice to get a kiss whenever it occurred to you to ask for one. And it was an incredible relief not to have to worry about navigating through airports with your brain fogged. Changing planes in Denver had been an absolute breeze. Logan had taken care of everything, of her. The only time he’d left her was to buy a couple of little pizzas and bring them back to her. And dear heart that he was, he’d brought her a fork, too, so she wouldn’t have to pick the toppings off with her fingers.

  Yes, she’d go with him anywhere he wanted to go. As often as the bug to travel bit him. The effects of her happy pill were wearing off, but the usual post-plane feeling of having escaped a horrible destiny wasn’t creeping up on her. No, she was wonderfully relaxed. Like she’d spent the last four hours napping in a shaded hammock. Not a care in the world.

  The world. She kinda needed to check to make sure it was still there. She
glanced out the terminal doors. There wasn’t much of Des Moines to see. Not that she really looked. The man in the navy blue suit, holding the neatly lettered sign demanded attention. Talbott-Dupree, huh? Cool. Just like in the movies.

  “Look, Logan. There’s a chauffeur waiting for us.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Nic strikes again.”

  “Why’s he being so nice?”

  “He’s setting us up. That way the joke’s all the better when it comes down.”

  “Is being nice for the sake of being nice out of the question?” The first pieces of luggage tumbled onto the belt.

  “Hey, I know Nic. I know better than to trust him.” Her hand in his, he drew her toward the door, saying, “But while we wait for the zing… Ever ridden in a limo before?”

  “Like you have to ask. What about our suitcases?”

  “People who ride in limos don’t fetch and carry.”

  Apparently not, she decided as Logan handed over their claim checks and they climbed into the back seat of a luxury sedan. Vivaldi, leather, wood grain, a DVD player, a handsome man in the seat beside her… Oh, yeah, a girl could definitely get used to this kind of living.

  The driver returned, put their bags in the trunk, climbed behind the wheel and slipped smoothly into traffic. Relaxed, contented, Cat sat back in the curve of Logan’s arm and watched the world go by as they zipped down city streets.

  “You know,” she said after a bit, “Des Moines looks just like Wichita. Except with hills.”

  “They are a lot alike. Same kind of down-to-earth, hardworking, no-nonsense people. Same kinds of expectations for their kids, each other, life.”

  Cat chuckled, remembering her father’s constant refrain. “Do what’s right and don’t disgrace the family name.”

  “Take the name from nothing to something,” he countered tightly. “Make the world sit up and take notice.”

  The pressure to succeed. She knew that song, too. “What did your dad do for a living?”

  “Worked on a production line. Putting little parts together to make a bigger part to send to the next person down the belt.”