wasn’t some small chance that Milly could be right. Shelly hadn’t wanted her to be right, but there it was—the dress arrived one day, and the next she’d fallen into Mark Brady’s arms.
Literally.
The rest, as they say, is history and Jill wasn’t laughing anymore. Shelly and Mark had been married in June and to all appearances were blissfully happy.
Four weeks after the wedding, Jill was flying off to Hawaii. Not the best month to visit the tropics, perhaps, but that couldn’t be helped. Her budget was limited and July offered the most value for her money.
Her seatmate leaned back and sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Whatever problem he’d encountered earlier had persisted, Jill guessed. She must have been correct, because no more than ten seconds later, he reached for his calculator again. Jill had the impression this man never stopped working; even during their meal he continued his calculations. Not a moment of their flight time was wasted. If he wasn’t studying papers from his briefcase, he was typing more columns of figures into his computer.
An hour passed. A couple of times, almost against her will, she found herself watching him. Although she assumed he was somewhere in his mid-thirties, he seemed older. No, she decided, not older, but…experienced. His face managed to be pleasing to the eye despite his rugged, uneven features. She wondered fleetingly how he’d assess her appearance. Except he hadn’t looked at her once. He seemed totally unaware that there was anyone in the seat next to him. His eyes were gray, she’d noted earlier, the color of polished steel. There was nothing soft about him.
This was obviously a man who had it all—hand-tailored suits, Italian leather shoes, gold pen and watch. She’d bet even his plastic was gold! No doubt he lived the way he flew—first class. He was the type who had all the answers, too. The type of man who didn’t question his own attitudes and beliefs….
He reminded Jill of her father, long dead, long grieved. He, too, had been an influential businessman who’d held success in the palm of his hand. Adam Morrison had fought off middle age on a gym floor. Energy was his trademark and death was an eternity away. Only it was just around the corner, and he hadn’t known it.
Ironic that she should be sitting next to him thirteenyears after his death. Not her father, but someone so much like him it was all Jill could do not to ask when he’d last seen his family.
He must have felt her scrutiny, because he suddenly turned and stared at her. Jill blushed guiltily, bowing her head over her book, reading it with exaggerated fervor.
“Did you like what you saw?” he asked her boldly.
“I—I don’t know what you mean,” she said in a small voice, moving the paperback close to her face.
For the first time since he’d taken the seat next to her, the stranger grinned. It was an odd smile, off center and unpracticed, as if he didn’t often find anything to smile about.
The remainder of the flight was uneventful. Jill held her breath during the descent, until the tires bumped down on the runway in Honolulu. She wished again that Shelly was taking this trip, too. With or without her best friend, though, Jill intended to have the time of her life. She had seven glorious days to laze in the sun. Seven days to shop to her heart’s content and to go sightseeing and to swim and relax and eat glorious meals.
For months Jill had dreamed of the wonders she would see and experience. Tranquil villages, orchid plantations—oh, how she loved orchids. At night, she’d stroll along lava-strewn beaches and by day there’d be canyons to explore, tumbling waterfalls and smoldering volcanoes. Hawaii was going to be a grand adventure, Jill felt sure of it.
The man beside her was on his feet the instant theirplane came to a standstill. He removed his carry-on bag from the storage compartment above the seat with an efficiency that told her he was a
Literally.
The rest, as they say, is history and Jill wasn’t laughing anymore. Shelly and Mark had been married in June and to all appearances were blissfully happy.
Four weeks after the wedding, Jill was flying off to Hawaii. Not the best month to visit the tropics, perhaps, but that couldn’t be helped. Her budget was limited and July offered the most value for her money.
Her seatmate leaned back and sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Whatever problem he’d encountered earlier had persisted, Jill guessed. She must have been correct, because no more than ten seconds later, he reached for his calculator again. Jill had the impression this man never stopped working; even during their meal he continued his calculations. Not a moment of their flight time was wasted. If he wasn’t studying papers from his briefcase, he was typing more columns of figures into his computer.
An hour passed. A couple of times, almost against her will, she found herself watching him. Although she assumed he was somewhere in his mid-thirties, he seemed older. No, she decided, not older, but…experienced. His face managed to be pleasing to the eye despite his rugged, uneven features. She wondered fleetingly how he’d assess her appearance. Except he hadn’t looked at her once. He seemed totally unaware that there was anyone in the seat next to him. His eyes were gray, she’d noted earlier, the color of polished steel. There was nothing soft about him.
This was obviously a man who had it all—hand-tailored suits, Italian leather shoes, gold pen and watch. She’d bet even his plastic was gold! No doubt he lived the way he flew—first class. He was the type who had all the answers, too. The type of man who didn’t question his own attitudes and beliefs….
He reminded Jill of her father, long dead, long grieved. He, too, had been an influential businessman who’d held success in the palm of his hand. Adam Morrison had fought off middle age on a gym floor. Energy was his trademark and death was an eternity away. Only it was just around the corner, and he hadn’t known it.
Ironic that she should be sitting next to him thirteenyears after his death. Not her father, but someone so much like him it was all Jill could do not to ask when he’d last seen his family.
He must have felt her scrutiny, because he suddenly turned and stared at her. Jill blushed guiltily, bowing her head over her book, reading it with exaggerated fervor.
“Did you like what you saw?” he asked her boldly.
“I—I don’t know what you mean,” she said in a small voice, moving the paperback close to her face.
For the first time since he’d taken the seat next to her, the stranger grinned. It was an odd smile, off center and unpracticed, as if he didn’t often find anything to smile about.
The remainder of the flight was uneventful. Jill held her breath during the descent, until the tires bumped down on the runway in Honolulu. She wished again that Shelly was taking this trip, too. With or without her best friend, though, Jill intended to have the time of her life. She had seven glorious days to laze in the sun. Seven days to shop to her heart’s content and to go sightseeing and to swim and relax and eat glorious meals.
For months Jill had dreamed of the wonders she would see and experience. Tranquil villages, orchid plantations—oh, how she loved orchids. At night, she’d stroll along lava-strewn beaches and by day there’d be canyons to explore, tumbling waterfalls and smoldering volcanoes. Hawaii was going to be a grand adventure, Jill felt sure of it.
The man beside her was on his feet the instant theirplane came to a standstill. He removed his carry-on bag from the storage compartment above the seat with an efficiency that told her he was a
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