Читать книгу Minute by Minute - Jo Leigh - Страница 8

IT WAS NOON ON THE dot when the plane, a little propeller job that had flown so close to the ocean Meg could have jumped without a parachute, landed on the island. The view, of rocky cliffs, crystal clear blue waters, and vegetation so green it almost hurt, had stolen her breath, and she wondered if she’d ever get it back.

It didn’t help that she was scared spitless. Not about the plane; she loved puddle jumpers. He was, theoretically, already here. Since her birthday, she’d hardly been able to think of anything else. She was going to meet Alex Rosten in the flesh. After an entire year of talking to him online in private chats, they were going to be face-to-face in, like, thirty seconds.

Meg waited until everyone else had cleared the aisle, and then she got her travel bag from the overhead compartment. Her body fairly quivered with tension. Although she was trying to be very Zen about the whole experience, she was failing miserably. She wanted to like him. She wanted to be attracted to him. She wanted him to sweep her off her feet.

Problem was, she also wanted not to like him so much, to find him more a friend than a lover, and she needed to keep her feet firmly on the ground.

For a woman whose biggest single risk up to this point was going to UC Davis instead of UCLA, this little vacation was monumental.

Her whole life had been swallowed by her work. Since her father had died and left her his veterinary clinic in Diamond Canyon, she’d been working six days a week. But because she was always on call, time off was more a concept than a reality. Her only personal time was when she was online with Alex.

If they blew this, if the chemistry wasn’t there, then what? What would she do on those nights when by some mysterious grace he was there when she was there, and they talked until they both got stupid with tiredness? Until they laughed at the most ridiculous things ever?

She needed Alex. Needed to find him on the other end of the computer, needed the possibility that she’d find him. She’d been so fiercely protective of their relationship that they’d never even spoken on the phone. He’d asked, she’d debated, but in the end it seemed safer just to keep the status quo. Which this little trip shattered all to hell.

“May I help you, Miss?”

She turned to the steward, sharp in his khakis, thick eyebrows raised. “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”

She pulled up the handle on her case and rolled it toward the door. Would Alex be on the tarmac or inside? Would she know him immediately, and he know her? And, oh, God, was she supposed to kiss him? Hug? Shake hands?

Pushing her hair back behind her shoulders, she straightened, took a deep breath and stepped onto the portable steps.

Blinking in the tropical sunlight, she scanned the small group of people standing in front of the terminal. The heat hit her hard, not because it was so different from the cold Los Angeles winter but because her fear and anticipation had chilled her deeply. When she thought of the things she’d told him in the late hours, the fantasies she’d revealed in lurid detail…It was hard to breathe as her gaze went from one face to another.

He wasn’t there. The impatient noises behind her sent her forward. It was only eleven steps down, and not that far to enter the terminal, but she had to consciously make her legs move.

Maybe he’d chickened out. It was possible, right? She’d hear her name over the loudspeaker, a message at the desk.

Not likely. He’d sent her an e-mail yesterday with his flight information from Dulles. He’d sounded so excited. Which wasn’t fair. Shouldn’t he be sweating this, too? He probably figured in five days and four nights, he was bound to get lucky, so why worry? What she didn’t understand was why she couldn’t see things in exactly the same way.

Going by his picture—well, pictures—he was a nice-looking guy. Although the photo of him from the Washington Post was too grainy to see him fully, when she’d Googled him, she’d found others. Him with politicians, him getting awards, him being important. He rarely smiled, but there’d been this one…He was alone, leaning against a brick wall, and he looked happy. She remembered finding that picture and thinking about his smile. Such a good smile. Not to mention his expressive eyes and his dark, thick hair. She already knew the most important things about him—that he had a great sense of humor, and that he was really smart, and kind. She should be filled with anticipation—good anticipation, not this sick dread.

If only she hadn’t been quite so open. If only she hadn’t told him all of her secrets…

HE SHOULD HAVE GONE outside. Alex ran a hand through his hair as he paced underneath the huge circular clock above the terminal doors. The plane had landed, and he knew she was out there, so what was he doing in here?

He was behaving like an idiot, like a teenager. At thirty-three, he’d had his share of blind dates, and he’d never given them a second thought. They’d clicked or they hadn’t. No sweat. Of course, he’d never been in a situation like this one.

He liked Meg more than anyone he’d met in a hell of a long time, but it was all online, and that wasn’t the truest test. Not by a long shot.

His buddy Craig had met a woman online. Through Match.com. They’d talked for three months. She’d lived in Brussels, and Craig had liked her so much he’d paid for her to move to D.C. It was a disaster.

She’d used him, lied, made up just about everything about herself, except for her name.

If Meg had done the same thing, Alex was screwed in more ways than one. Not just because they’d be in such close proximity for five days, but because, despite his best intentions, he had expectations. Which was always, always a mistake.

Don’t hope, you can’t get hurt, right? Everyone’s got their own agenda, and the smiles and the handshakes don’t mean shit. He’d been in Washington a long time, and he’d learned not to underestimate the depth of deception in the human heart.

No, he wasn’t going to think about D.C. He’d spent all day wondering how the press was reacting to his latest column. It was either going to be a scandal worthy of congressional investigation, or a blip on the radar, buried somewhere in the back pages. It was out of his hands.

“This is ridiculous,” he said, startling the woman next to him. He gave her a smile, then stepped out to meet Meg. And stopped.

Oh, Christ. She was perfect.

MEG BLINKED. It was him. She gripped the handle of her bag as she stared. He was so much more than she’d pictured. Taller. Darker hair. Brighter smile. And his eyes were filled with a pleasure she could hardly comprehend.

“Wow.”

“I’ll say.”

He laughed, and it did things to her insides. Then he took the few steps needed to be close. Close enough to touch. “Nice to meet you, Meg Becker.”

She grinned. “Nice to meet you, too.”

He looked at her. Really looked. First at her face, his eyes crinkling in the bright sunlight, then slowly down her body. He didn’t pause, but he didn’t rush.

She’d worn a pale green, sleeveless button-down blouse and beige capris. Comfort was her goal, as the trip from L.A. to Florida had been a long one, and then the hop to the island, of course. She’d left her hair down, and it occurred to her that she should have brushed it. Put on fresh lip gloss. At least checked to make sure her makeup hadn’t smeared.

When Alex’s gaze rose again, he didn’t seem displeased. Not if that incredible smile was any indication.

He had to be at least six feet tall. He was wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and the softest looking shirt. The sleeves were rolled up a couple of turns, showing the dark hair, not too thick, on his arms. It wasn’t buttoned all the way up, either, so she could see the suggestion of hair on his chest. It made her want to touch him. Feel if his hair was as soft as the sleek cream shirt. If his chest was as hard as she hoped. Altogether, he was kinda built and surprisingly sexy.

She laughed. She wasn’t even sure why, except, oh, God, here she was on a tropical island with a man she was seeing for the very first time and they’d been together two seconds and already she wanted to plaster herself to his chest.

Alex laughed, too. It was a great sound. Deep, rich. Quite yummy. Lord, he had dimples. Not little teeny ones, but long commas next to the smile lines bracketing his mouth.

“There’s not a flight out until tomorrow,” he said, “so it’s too late to turn back now.”

“I don’t want to turn back.”

“Thank God. How about I take you to see the island?”

“Sounds great.” She stepped closer to him, expecting him to back up and lead her to her baggage, but he didn’t move. His eyes had softened, lost their humor but not their spark, and the smile that had been there since he’d opened the door drifted, leaving him with parted lips and a look that told her that no one was going to be using that loft, after all.