Zeke

by Annette Broadrick

  "I'm working on that. If you had sent someone else to pick up your niece, I would still be there working on it."

  "I know, I know. But my other pilot doesn't have your experience. I wanted to know that Angela was safe. I thought you were the man for the job.''

  "I'm trying to be, believe me."

  "Okay, okay. Maybe I'm just being jumpy. I wish to hell Angela could have picked another time to come."

  "I'm aware of that. You've voiced your concern on many occasions."

  "Tell her I'm sorry I yelled at her."

  Zeke grinned. "I'm sure that will make her feel much better."

  "I've been under a strain."

  "I'll tell her."

  "No! Don't tell her about the strain. She doesn't need to know anything about what's been going on. Just apologize for me for being in a temper."

  "I'll do that," Zeke responded dryly.

  "I'll see you tomorrow," Lorenzo said, and hung up.

  Zeke hung up the phone, shaking his head. Then he dialed housekeeping and asked them to send someone to pick up his clothes. He had to have them dry before he could go looking for another place to stay.

  There was a tap on the door and a voice announced, "Room service." He tightened the sash of his robe and went over to the door. After viewing the hall through the security opening, Zeke opened the door and waved the hotel employee inside.

  The serving cart was set for two people, and the setting included a perfectly formed red rosebud in a cut crystal vase. Zeke signed the charge ticket for the meal, tipped the waiter and closed the door behind him.

  Everything was ready, even to a carafe of coffee. Silently thanking Angie for her thoughtfulness, he poured a cup of coffee and sat on the sofa to wait for her.

  When she walked through the door and saw him, she blushed. "I hope you don't mind, but I, uh—well, I didn't really want to get dressed again." She glanced down at the silk pajamas and matching robe. "I thought I'd get ready for bed."

  Zeke stood, thankful for the concealing folds of his robe. Damn, but she looked adorable standing there with her hair loose around her shoulders. Now she looked like the photograph that haunted his dreams. "You should always wear your hair down like that," he heard himself saying, appalled by his lack of discretion.

  Her blush deepened and he could have kicked himself for causing her to be more uncomfortable with their circumstances. He motioned to the table.

  "Don't worry about your appearance. Let's eat so that you can get some rest." He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit down. There was a knock at the door.

  "I'll be right back," he said, striding across the room.

  "But who—"

  After making sure who was there, he opened the door to a woman who explained she was from housekeeping. He stepped into the bathroom, gathered up his wet clothes, came out and handed them to her with a tip. "Thank you for being so prompt. I'd like to have these back as soon as possible."

  She bobbed her head and left.

  Zeke returned to the table.

  Angie watched him as he sat down and picked up his fork. "I wonder what that woman thought of us in our robes this early in the evening."

  Zeke grinned. "Probably thinks we're honeymooners." He almost laughed at her deepened color as she picked up her salad fork, studying it intently, as though fascinated by the pattern.

  After a moment, he asked, "Do you really care what she thinks?"

  Angie glanced up and became aware of him watching her. "Tio was upset about our sharing a room," she said.

  "Yeah. He told me. As soon as my clothes come back I'm going to look for a room in another hotel."

  "But there's no need for you to do that!" As though realizing that he might misinterpret her meaning, she explained, "I mean, there's plenty of room here, if you don't mind sleeping on the sofa. Tio is being ridiculous." She took a bite of her salad.

  "Is he?"

  She picked up her glass and took a sip of water. "Well, of course. There's no reason to think—" She seemed to bog down in that line of reasoning.

  "I take it you trust me not to attack you sometime during the night."

  "How silly! Why would you do something like that?"

  He thought about her comment while he polished off his salad. After retrieving their entrees from thewarming oven of the serving cart, he asked, "How old did you say you are?"

  Startled, she replied, "I haven't said. Why do you ask?"

  "Either you've lived an extremely sheltered life and know absolutely nothing about men," he drawled, "or—" He took a bite of his dinner, chewed it very carefully, swallowed, then continued "—you have absolutely no idea how desirable you are."

  She dropped her fork onto her plate and placed her hands in her lap. "You're making fun of me."

  That was the last reaction he expected.

  "Not at all. Actually, I'm paying you a rather crude compliment. But at least it's sincere." He studied her while he continued to eat. Hesitantly she resumed eating, as well.

  "Have you known many men while you were growing up?" Now he really was curious about her.

  She shook her head. "Not really, other than relatives, of course. I've always attended private girls' schools. I teach in a coeducational school, and there are a few male teachers, but I don't see them outside of school functions."

  "You don't date?"

  She shook her head.

  "Why not?"

  "Because not many have asked me. Those that have I wasn't interested in. Besides, my family frowned on my going out with a man alone."

  "You're kidding. Do they still have chaperons?"

  "Sometimes. But it isn't that. I have always planned to come back to Mexico. I knew that if I were to get involved with someone living in Spain there was a good chance I would never return home."

  "So you've led a very sheltered life and have no idea just how beautiful you are."

  Her cheeks lit up like a neon sign.

  "Hey, I didn't mean to embarrass you. Really. Think of me as another uncle, one who's too outspoken. Ignore me."

  She smiled, but the smile didn't hide her fatigue and he felt like a heel for baiting her.

  "If you're through eating, why don't you go to bed?"

  "It wouldn't be very polite of me to—"

  "Forget polite. You can be as polite to me as you wish tomorrow. I'll wait here for my clothes, then I'll slip out. I'll give you a call in the morning in time to get an early start. How's that sound?"

  They both stood, then she held out her hand to him. When he took it, she said, "You've been very kind to me, Zeke. I know I've been a nuisance. Thank you for your patience."

  "Hey, the last thing I am is a kind person. You must be more tired than I thought." He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, feeling the delicate bones. Without thought, he brought her hand up to his mouth, turned it and placed a kiss in her palm. "Pleasant dreams, Princess," he murmured, releasing her hand.

  She stood there staring at him, her eyes wide. This close he could see the different shades of green in their depths. He also saw the dark smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes.

  Angie turned and went into the bedroom, closing the double doors behind her. He pushed the serving cart into the hallway, then walked over to the window and looked out. The rain appeared to be lessening, which was a good sign. Hopefully by tomorrow they would have clear skies.

  He glanced over at the sofa. He might as well stretch out and get comfortable, maybe take a nap, while he was waiting for his clothes. Then, like an obedient employee, he'd go find himself a room for the night.

  Angie crawled into bed, sighing with relief to be able to lie down after countless hours of travel. She snuggled into her pillow, anticipating oblivion for the next few hours.

  Instead, her mind raced—playing back the last few hours, leaping ahead to her meeting with Tio, flashing images of Zeke Daniels.

  Once again she experienced her disappointment that Tio hadn't met her plane. There was so much she
wanted to tell him in person. Now she would have to wait another day before she found out his reaction to her plans. She'd allowed him to believe she was coming to visit when she fully intended to stay. Mexico was her home. She had spent years getting her education so that she could return to Mexico. Her dream was to start a preschool in one of the mountain villages near Tio's place.

  She'd been afraid to tell him before because he seemed to discourage any discussion of her returning home. Now that she was here, she intended to show him that she had overcome her impulsive nature and could behave as a responsible adult.

  Her mind slowed and her thoughts drifted. An image of Zeke Daniels appeared. She was curious about him, more curious than she'd ever been about a man before. He had an embarrassingly strong effect on her, one she didn't understand. Being around him made her blood race and caused her to stammer in confusion. Never before had she been so aware of a man.

  What was it about him that so unnerved her?

  He was so self-assured, even in a borrowed bathrobe. He made her aware of her own femininity, of the differences between his strong, muscular strength and her own softness.

  He intrigued her. She wanted to get to know him better. Since he worked for Tio, she shouldn't have much difficulty.

  She sighed, drifting into sleep, a smile on her face.

  Hours later Zeke came awake with a start. The lamp cast a dim glow in the room. He sat up, glancing at his watch. It was after two o'clock in the morning.

  He went to the door and checked the hallway. The room service cart was gone, but there was no sign of his clothes. He should have been more specific about when he needed them, but he had thought "as soon as possible" was clear enough.

  He had little option other than to stay there. He certainly couldn't go anywhere in a bathrobe. He returned to the sofa and, this time, pulled out the bed and turned back the sheets. After searching for a pillow, he found one in the closet, then, discarding his robe, crawled into bed with a sigh. He turned out the light and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep once more.

  Sometime later a soft tap on the door awakened him. The room lay in the quiet early light of daybreak. Zeke pulled on the robe and went to the door.

  "Who is it?"

  "Laundry."

  He peeked through the door, recognized his freshly laundered clothes on a hanger and opened the door.

  "We also have a complimentary toiletry kit in case you needed one," the young man said.

  "Thanks." Zeke signed for the delivery, pleased to spot a razor, comb and toothbrush in the small bag.

  He headed for the bathroom, ready to get on with the day.

  Once dressed, Zeke went over to the bedroom door and rapped. After a lengthy pause during which there was no sound, he eased open the door and peeked inside.

  Angie lay sprawled across the bed on her stomach, her face almost obscured by a pillow. One knee was bent, causing the thin pajama material to snugly mold the curve of her bottom. The pajama top had ridden up, exposing a fair amount of her bare back. Her hair lay in a tangle of curls across the pillow, spilling down across her shoulders.

  An unexpected jolt of sharp desire shot through him, causing his body to immediately respond to the enticing picture she made.

  Zeke stepped back and hastily closed the door. Opening that door had not been one of his better ideas. He should have known she was still asleep. He should have known—never mind. He would call her from downstairs in accordance with the original plan. As far as she knew he had not spent the night there.

  He returned the sofa to its original state, folded the bathrobe and left it lying on the arm of one of the chairs. Then he slipped silently out of the room.

  ❧

  Angie knew there was something she needed to do, something that kept tugging at her, but she was too relaxed and comfortable to move. If whoever or whatever it was would just go away she would continue to drift and to dream— But the noise continued until she surfaced enough from her deep sleep to recognize the annoying sound was the telephone busily ringing only a few feet from her head.

  Groaning, she rolled over and groped for the noisy instrument. "H'lo?" she mumbled.

  A deep voice growled seductively into her ear. "C'mon, sleepyhead. It's time to rise and shine. I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast in half an hour."

  The caller hung up before she could manage a reply.

  Still more than half-asleep, she fumbled with the receiver until she could replace it on its base. With her eyes still closed, she thought about what she had just heard.

  Breakfast. Half hour. Rise and shine.

  She forced one eye open and stared at the bedside clock. It lacked a couple of minutes to seven o'clock. How could that be when she had gone to bed only a few minutes ago? She reluctantly sat up and stared around her. The room was unfamiliar and she felt as though she had a severe hangover. Where was she and what had she been doing?

  Bits and pieces of the previous day ran across her mind like a silent movie. She remembered a pair of piercing dark eyes staring at her...her disappointment that Tio hadn't been at the airport to meet her... a hauntingly deep voice suggesting—

  Suggesting breakfast! Oh, dear. Zeke would be downstairs waiting on her if she didn't hurry. Tossing the covers to the side, she climbed out of bed and hurried to the bathroom.

  Her dreams had been a jumble of impressions, but she distinctly remembered seeing those eyes staring at her and feeling the tingling kiss he had placed in her palm.

  She would see him in a half hour. Angie realized her heart was racing with a mixture of agitation and anticipation at being in Zeke's company once again.

  ❧

  She saw him as soon as she stepped off the elevators, her eyes drawn inexorably toward his tall, lean figure. She didn't understand what it was about him that drew the eye, but she noticed that she wasn't the only one who noticed the man leaning against one of the pillars in the lobby with his arms folded across his chest.

  "Good morning," she said, wishing she didn't sound quite so breathless. "You're looking well rested this morning. Did you have any trouble finding a place to sleep?"

  His lopsided grin appeared. "Not at all," he answered in complete honesty. "How about you? Did you sleep all right?" He took her by the elbow and guided her into the coffee shop.

  "I must have. I can't believe I slept for almost twelve hours!"

  She looked dazzling in the morning sunlight. Zeke was having trouble concentrating on what she was saying. He had known as soon as she stepped off the elevator that he was in a heap of trouble.

  Her colorful silk blouse and tailored skirt were probably not considered provocative attire, but they set off the gentle curves that he had dreamed about most of the night. Like it or not, she was a distraction that he was having difficulty overcoming, and his life depended on his not becoming distracted.

  As soon as the waiter took their order, Zeke searched for a neutral topic. "I guess you're looking forward to getting home today."

  "Yes, but I might as well admit that I'm not looking forward to the flight." She sighed. "Small planes have always frightened me."

  He setded back in his chair and said, "Or is it the pilot you don't trust?"

  Her eyes widened. "Oh, no! I'm sure you're very competent or my uncle would never have hired you."

  "Well, I'll try to make the flight as pleasant for you as possible."

  Zeke was thankful when their breakfast arrived and he didn't have to concern himself with further conversation. They only had a few more hours together. He could handle that with no problem.

  Probably by the time they reached Monterrey he would be eager to be rid of the woman. Being around her these extra hours would no doubt wipe out all those fantasies he'd created, using her image.

  He could only hope.

  Chapter 3

  Angie sat beside Zeke in the cockpit of her uncle's plane, listening and watching as he spoke to the control tower through his headset while they waited for their sign
al to take off.

  Now that they were ready to take off the butterflies that had taken up permanent residence in her stomach had multiplied and were busy giving flying instructions to their many young. Was their feverish activity due to her fear of flying in a small plane, her nervousness about facing her uncle, or her awareness of Zeke sitting so closely beside her she could easily rest her hand on his muscled thigh?

  Perhaps her butterflies were the result of all three conditions.

  Zeke motioned for her to put on the headset lying in front of her. As soon as she had it on, she heard the crackling of static and a disembodied voice giving them clearance. Zeke taxied the plane to the end of the runway, saying, "It will be easier to communicate if you'll keep the headset on." She nodded, wondering what he thought they would be communicating about.

  She thought she had masked her nervousness. Had he thought she would panic? If so, being tuned in to control tower conversation was not going to help her in the slightest.

  The noise all around her intensified and the plane started quivering like a racehorse eager to hear the opening gun. At an incomprehensible—to Angie— signal over the headphones, Zeke gave the plane its head and it leaped forward, moving down the runway at an ever-increasing speed.

  Angie had never ridden in the cockpit of a plane before. Seeing the ground rush toward her faster and faster made her catch her breath and forget to breathe. As the runway quickly shortened, she closed her eyes, feverishly praying beneath her breath that the plane would lift off the ground in time.

  She wasn't certain how much time passed before Zeke said, "You can open your eyes now," in a dry voice.

  Reluctantly she forced her eyes open, feeling humiliated by her cowardice. She braced herself for his open derision but discovered, when she looked his way, that he was busy comparing the terrain against an open map in front of him.

  "We should have a smooth flight," he went on, as though continuing a conversation they had been having. "The early morning good weather looks to be holding. The only bumpy areas are over the mountains, and that can't be helped."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The air drafts over the mountains are inconsistent at the altitude we're flying. I'll try to give you some warning before we're affected."