Running Blind

by Gwen Hernandez

  “Because you need a fake fiancé.”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath and bit her lip. “But also because I’ve missed you.”

  He scoffed. “You don’t have to lay it on so thick.”

  Of course he thought she was trying to manipulate him. In all fairness, she was. But not just to save Rose. Time had given her perspective. She could see now how much she’d hurt them both. To protect herself, she’d hurt him instead.

  Deep down, maybe that was why she hadn’t considered any alternatives to this plan. Because she finally had an excuse to meet with him face to face and work things out.

  Bracing her hands on her knees, she leaned forward. “If you really can’t do this for me, I’ll suck it up and say we broke things off. It was selfish to think I could waltz in here and ask this of you.” She sat back. “But either way, I’d like to try to be friends again.”

  “Why?” he asked, the bafflement in his voice tugging at her heart.

  Why indeed? This wasn’t her plan at all. “Because I like you?”

  He gave an exasperated laugh and shook his head. “You’re not selling this very well, Brevard.”

  She shrugged. “Hey, I’m a bit rusty. Normally, I just hang out with my dog. He doesn’t care what I say as long as I feed him.”

  “You have a dog?” A full-on smile lit Kurt’s handsome face, and something in her chest fluttered.

  She ruthlessly crushed it. We’re friends. Or they might be again, eventually. Anything more was out of the question. He could so easily hold all the power in the relationship if she gave in to her inconveniently alert libido. Her aversion to that wouldn’t change, and she didn’t want to hurt him again. “Yep.”

  “Me too. A German Shepherd. In fact, I need to get home to feed Max and let him out.” Kurt laid his big, strong hands on the desk, his smile slipping away. “So tell me this. If we ‘break up,’ what happens with Glenn and his father? And Rose.”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something. It’s not so far-fetched that we might end things. If you and I were actually engaged, I can’t imagine trying to decide who’d give up their business to live with the other. After three years, it’s the perfect excuse to call it quits.”

  “As long as you don’t say I cheated.”

  Her heart sank. He was going to beg off. “I would never impugn your character that way,” she said. That was one thing his future wife wouldn’t have to worry about. Kurt was a man of honor to his core.

  He rubbed his forehead. “You figured I wouldn’t be able to turn you down, didn’t you?”

  Damn. She’d totally miscalculated. “I’ll admit, I hoped your savior complex might work in my favor.” She sent him an apologetic smile. Suddenly it was vital that he not feel coerced into helping her. “But you owe me nothing. We were friends once, I was stupid, maybe we can be friends again. If you agree to do this and resent me later, it’s not worth it.”

  The sentiment surprised her as much as it seemed to shock him. She’d flown to DC determined to convince Kurt any way she could, but with him sitting right in front of her, she couldn’t bring herself to guilt him into helping her with a problem she alone had created.

  “Just how far would we have to take this ruse?” he asked, his dark eyes probing.

  Heat rose up her neck and warmed her face, even as her heart kicked with hope. “Some light PDA for authenticity, like holding hands, maybe a quick kiss here and there.” Her stomach flipped at the last thought. Jesus. Would she be able to keep the public displays of affection under control? She unconsciously licked her lips and his eyes followed the motion. Her body tingled in anticipation. Maybe this was a horrible idea. “You okay with that?”

  One side of his mouth kicked up. “I think I can handle it.”

  But could she? “Does that mean you’re on board?”

  He sighed. “I’ll have to check my calendar, but yeah. When do you need me?”

  Right now. Given her way, she’d straddle him on the chair and kiss him blind. Or at least pump her fist in triumph. She refrained from both. “In two weeks. The party’s on Saturday, the twenty-first.”

  The wait to get to Rose was going to be excruciating, but she didn’t see another way to save her without causing a political shit storm and getting a lot of people hurt or killed, possibly innocents.

  He donned a pair of reading glasses that somehow made him even sexier, and clicked his computer mouse several times, his expression inscrutable. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER 4

  TALKING TO CAITLYN nearly every day was going to kill him. Kurt didn’t want to like her, laugh with her, remember she was human. Or worse, fall under her spell again.

  He had nixed video calls, claiming that he wanted to talk while walking Max or cooking dinner, but he was more worried about her reading every lustful expression as it crossed his face.

  And if she smiled, he might just short circuit.

  So now, he walked his neighborhood in the chilly dark on the first night after she’d returned home, phone in his front pocket. His headphones had a built-in microphone, and he had one earbud in place, the other tucked under his shirt collar so he could maintain situational awareness.

  “How’s Sara?” Caitlyn asked about his sister.

  “Great. She became a nurse like my parents, and she married my physical therapist about four years ago,” Kurt said as he tugged Max’s leash to get him moving again. Lampposts were the dog’s favorite target.

  “Wow. Was that awkward?”

  More than it should have been. “It was a little weird for me when they started dating, but I wasn’t Soham’s patient by that point, and he’s a great guy. A good dad. They have a three-year-old named Luke.”

  “I’ll bet you’re a good uncle.”

  “The best.”

  She chuckled and his chest tightened.

  “That kid pretty much hangs the moon as far as I’m concerned. I spoil him mercilessly.” After all, Luke was the closest thing to having a son of his own he might ever get.

  “Evil man.”

  “It’s a brother’s duty to torment his sister.”

  Caitlyn was silent for a few seconds. Had they been disconnected? “Mine never really got the chance.”

  “You have a brother?” Jesus. Had he ever really known her?

  “Mike was ten when I left home. He and Rose have the same dad. John Weekes. He reminisced about Barbados incessantly, and painted such an enticing picture that it became my dream to move here.”

  “And you did.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are he and your mom still married?”

  “No. She has a boyfriend now. Paul,” she said as if her mom had shacked up with a cockroach.

  “That bad, huh?”

  She sighed. “Probably not. I just think she gives herself away too easily. She’s beautiful and smart, but she never finished high school. So, these guys offer her a bit of financial security and she thinks she loves them. Unfortunately, they only love the idea of her, not the messy reality. Beauty only gets you so far.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah, well. Could be worse. They never hit her or mistreated us kids. And we always had a roof over our heads and food on the table. I just thought…”

  Kurt waited her out.

  “When I joined the Air Force, I thought if I left home, lightened her burden, she might not need to rely on someone else anymore. Especially if I sent home most of my paycheck.”

  “What happened?”

  “She refused the money. But at least she stopped marrying the men after John. I felt bad for Rose and Mike getting shuffled from house to house, one guy to another, and maybe guilty for getting out.”

  “None of that’s your fault.” But he’d probably feel the same. Hell, he felt guilty now for having a better childhood. His parents had been strict but fair, madly in love, and stable. His only worry growing up had been disappointing them.

  “Sure.” Pots clanged in the backgroun
d and she swore under her breath. “Are your parents still traveling the world saving people?”

  “No.” The claws of grief were no longer so sharp, but they still clung. “They were killed in a bus crash in Honduras eight years ago.”

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Were they on vacation?”

  “Working,” he said, trying to push away the selfish anger that rose up whenever he thought about it. When he’d finally needed them, his parents were gone. Childish, but there it was. “They were there with an NGO to provide medical aid, but they never made it to the camp.”

  “Damn.”

  That about summed it up.

  Kurt extended his walk to the next neighborhood, reluctant to take her voice into his home where he might never get it out.

  “We should probably come up with a story about how we started dating,” she said after a long moment of silence. “And make up a few visits over the last few years.”

  He’d rather eat cat food. “That’s easy enough. We stick to the truth. I called you three years ago to help out my team on St. Isidore and we started talking again. We’ll have to whitewash it a bit because I don’t want anybody to connect my team to the dead rebels.”

  “I think hiring me to fly them off the island is enough. And then we decided to meet up in DC to reminisce about our glory days as AWACS maintainers?”

  “Sure.” Kurt had loved being a mechanic for the E-3 AWACS—basically, a Boeing 707 topped with a rotating radar dome, that provided air traffic control from the sky—but he’d loved being a PJ more. “We met up and things developed from there.” Things like kissing and touching and loving. Fuck.

  Yeah, that too, if he had his way.

  “That’s a little vague,” she said.

  Exactly. Kurt stopped walking and took several deep breaths. Get it together. “You plan to share details with Glenn?”

  “Uh, no. But people at parties, especially engagement parties, love to share how-they-met stories. I just thought we should have a few more details figured out in case anyone asks.”

  “Go for it.” Why had he agreed to this torture again?

  “Okay. We spent the day at the Air & Space museum, because we’re total stereotypes.”

  “The main one, or Udvar-Hazy?” he asked, just to be contrary.

  “I’ve only been to the one on the Mall.”

  “Okay. We met at the museum in DC,” he said, fully able to imagine spending a day surrounded by flying machines, chatting with her as if they hadn’t set fire to their friendship. “Then what?”

  “Neither of us wanted the day to end, so we took the Metro to Georgetown for dinner at a little Italian restaurant near the Potomac.”

  “And then?” he asked, feeling a little breathless.

  “Since we’re sticking close to the truth, I kissed you outside the restaurant after dinner.”

  Unh. Direct hit. As if it had happened yesterday, he could feel her lips on his when she’d completely blindsided him outside a restaurant in Oklahoma City. After two years of pretending he was fine just being friends, that soft, warm, deep kiss had hit him like an IED. Total annihilation.

  “And then we got a hotel room because getting to my house in Fairfax would take too long,” he said, giving them the ending to the evening he’d always wanted.

  “Wow. Straight from idle to full afterburners. You move fast.”

  He hadn’t moved fast enough. He forced a smile, hoping it would make his words come out more playful. “Didn’t you know Easy is my middle name?”

  She laughed then, a bright, unexpected sound that scorched his soul. “Your parents could have been much cleverer. Stainless. Nerves Of. The ever popular Man Of.” She paused. “Blue.”

  Kurt’s grin turned into a full belly laugh. He’d forgotten how much fun she could be. “Unfortunately, they went with my mom’s maiden name.”

  “Which was?”

  “Strong.”

  “They didn’t.”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh, my God,” she managed, gasping. “Your name is Kurt Strong Steele?”

  “It’s on my birth certificate.”

  She giggled.

  His heart swelled. She was a danger to his sanity, but a reckless part of him didn’t care. “What’s your middle name?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “That’s a weird one.”

  “I mean I’m not sharing, you dope.”

  “No fair.”

  “Who said I play fair?” she asked, her voice teasing at first, but fading at the end.

  Of course his mind went immediately back to the sucker punch of finding out she’d been with another man while he was at training.

  Maybe hers had too, because the line turned silent.

  “Caitlyn?”

  “It’s Amelia.”

  “Seriously? As in Earhart?”

  “I wish.” She sighed. “No, as in Bedelia.”

  “Who?”

  “My mom liked this children’s book series about a woman named Amelia Bedelia when she was a kid. My dad thought it was too weird for a first name, so they compromised.”

  “Well, it beats Strong Steele. And you can always pretend you were presciently named after the pilot. Preferably without the disappearing part.”

  “Sure. We’re making up stories anyway, right?”

  “Exactly.” And he’d do well to remember it.

  What’s your favorite color?

  Caitlyn smiled to herself as she typed the text message from the comfort of the deserted general aviation terminal at Hewanorra on St. Lucia. Her client wouldn’t return from her meeting for another hour, and Caitlyn had time to burn.

  She and Kurt had been talking daily since she returned home, mostly to get their stories straight and ensure they knew the important details about each other. But, she might as well learn the little things about him too. Plus, it would drive him nuts.

  Seriously?

  His reply came almost instantly, despite the fact that it was nine a.m. on a Tuesday and he was probably at work, drumming up new clients, or assigning jobs, or reading through a contract. Maybe she was interrupting a meeting. But then, he could just ignore her.

  She waited without responding and could imagine him sitting at his desk, drinking coffee—did he like it with cream and sugar, or black?—wearing those sexy reading glasses. Heat curled through her chest and spread to her fingers and toes. Shake it off. They weren’t going there except to pretend.

  Taking a sip of her Ju-C cola—a morning indulgence that made her neighbor Jade gag—she stroked Rockley’s fur with one hand and turned her attention back to her e-reader, but the thriller from an author she usually liked failed to thrill her this morning.

  Her phone buzzed.

  Puce.

  Caitlyn laughed out loud. Good thing there was no one around. And that she’d already swallowed her soda.

  Bullshit.

  He replied with the grinning emoticon.

  Blue. You?

  No, I’m feeling good today.

  He sent her an eye roll.

  She could imagine him shaking his head, amusement lighting up his handsome face. Jesus. She needed to stop this train of thought. She tapped on her phone’s screen.

  Blue-green. Can’t choose.

  No fair.

  Three dots appeared to show he was typing again.

  You *have* to choose.

  She may have started this, but she hated picking favorites. Favorite movie, book, food. It was always changing. How did a person pick one and never change their mind?

  Turquoise.

  Chicken.

  She laughed again, ignoring the stately white-haired man who entered the lounge and gave her a curious look.

  Favorite number.

  19.

  Double digits??

  Who picked a number that high?

  Go big or go home.

  Mine’s 5.

  She liked its shape for some reason. Al
ways had.

  That’s odd.

  She chuckled as she sent him a goofy face icon. Let the other pilot in the room wonder.

  You really think someone’s going to ask us these?

  His deep voice echoed in her head as if he’d spoken the words out loud. She’d thought texting would be “safer” than calling, because his sexy voice twisted up her insides and turned her legs to wet noodles, but if she could conjure him speaking in her mind, no form of communication was safe.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  She shook her head. They were friends. Maybe not even that. Her choice.

  And probably his too, these days.

  She tapped out a response.

  You never know.

  Doubtful, but she enjoyed provoking him. Until their relationship had gone sideways, it had been built largely on teasing and taunting. Turned out, she had missed that over the years.

  Fine. This is relevant. Why do I always have to go to DC when we “meet up?”

  For their story, it made sense to stick as close to the truth as possible in case Glenn went overboard and started looking into their travel histories. Kurt had never been to Barbados, whereas she had flown to the States at least once a year to visit Terrell and to see how being “home” felt. So far, she’d always wanted to return to Barbados.

  He didn’t answer for five minutes. She stared out the window at the lush green beyond the airport perimeter. Would they continue like this after he helped her rescue Rose? Could he forgive her and go back to being friends?

  Her phone vibrated on her thigh.

  I don’t like to fly.

  As if anyone would believe the big, tough former PJ who used to jump out of planes would be afraid of anything. Though, he had crashed… But he’d also agreed to come to the Caribbean for the party, so it couldn’t be that.

  How do we explain you being engaged to a pilot?

  TSA is annoying when you’re an amp.

  Ah. She’d never thought about what it must be like to go through security now that he was disabled. He probably had to get the wand and the intrusive pat-down every time.