Incorporeal
Page 16
He handed his ticket and his British Passport to the young ticket agent, and slid his suitcase onto the scale.
“Good evening, Mr. Neville. How are you?”
“Fine, thank you,” he replied, wishing he didn’t have to make small talk.
The woman looked up and smiled.
I don’t have time for a smile. Get on with it.
“Your plane leaves in twenty minutes. I’m afraid we won’t be able to load your bag, but I can arrange to send it on the next flight. It should arrive by,” she studied her computer screen, “noon tomorrow. You can pick it up at the baggage desk or we can deliver it.”
“I’d appreciate it if you can deliver the bag, thanks.” Controlling his impatience, Nate waited for her to complete his check-in and hand him a claim ticket for the bag.
“Here you go. Show the ticket to the delivery service. You’re all set. Your plane leaves from Gate number 18C. They’re boarding now. I’m afraid first class has already boarded, but I’ve given you a pass for expedited security. You can go to the front of the line.” She directed him to the closest security entrance.
“Thanks.” Grabbing his shoulder bag, Nate set off at a jog, trying to determine what he’d have to remove and how fast he could remove it. Boots, jacket, belt, wallet, computer, cell phone.
At the security checkpoint, his ID was confirmed and he was waved on through. He pulled off his boots, tossed them into a bin along with his belt and the contents of his pockets. He stuck his passport and boarding pass into his mouth, holding them between his teeth for safe-keeping, as he removed his computer from the leather satchel, set it in a bin by itself and then tossed the satchel onto the conveyer. Finally he threw his leather jacket into a bin and shoved it toward the X-ray machine. At last he was ready to pass through the metal detector.
Once he’d cleared security, he stuffed his computer back in the bag, hopped first on one foot and then the other to get into his boots, grabbed his remaining possessions and sprinted for gate 18C. Damn, this is cutting it close.
Nate was the last passenger down the ramp.
“Good evening, Mr. Neville. So glad you made the flight.” A smiling attendant took his jacket and hung it up in a closet. “Let me help you get situated.” She held his passport and his wallet while he put on his belt and tucked in his shirt. He unbuttoned the top two buttons, loosening the collar, making himself a little more comfortable for the seven hour flight. “Would you like a glass of champagne?” She asked, handing him his things.
Nate looked her over. The young blond woman seemed vaguely familiar. He might have encountered her on a previous flight, but Nate flew a great deal and he either slept or worked on these overseas flights. When he was jet-lagged, he found it hard to keep faces and names straight. “Yes, thanks. Let me get my bag stowed.”
He remembered Jack’s parting words of wisdom, find a woman and fuck her brains out. That’ll cure what ails you. Nate couldn’t help but smile at the thought. The flight attendant misunderstood and smiled back at him. Well, she would probably do as well as anyone, but I’m not sure a quick fuck with just anyone will do. I want the dream redhead.
Nate walked towards his seat in the second row of the first class cabin. As he lifted the satchel above his head, he was distracted by light from the setting sun. It flashed through a window, striking a thick tangle of long, auburn curls, turning them to red-gold fire. The sight stopped him dead, his arms frozen in midair.
Nate sucked in a ragged breath. The woman, her back to him, gazed out the window. He couldn’t see her face, but he could tell by the angle of her arm and the tilt of her head she rested her chin on her palm. He did nothing more than stand and stare for a few seconds.
The flight attendant interrupted. Nate took vague notice of the fact that she held his glass of champagne. “Isn’t there room?” She peered over his shoulder into the luggage bin. “Oh, there’s plenty of room, here.” She shoved the leather satchel into the bin with one hand, expertly holding the glass of sparkling wine with the other.
Nate glanced back at the redhead. She no longer faced the window. She gaped at him, surprise written all over her face. Her large, lovely hazel eyes were so wide, so clear and so familiar that he felt as if he’d fallen into another world altogether. Her obvious shock at the sight of him was palpable, as was her fear. Strong emotions seemed to radiate from her, pricking at his skin like an electric current.
The woman rose to her feet. “Nathan,” she said. He swore he could hear his entire life story in her voice.
“Mr. Neville, do you want your champagne?” The flight attendant stood behind him, sounding distant, vague. Nate’s ears heard only her voice.
With barely a glance in the attendant’s direction, Nate waved her off. He stared at the redhead. “I know you.” I swear to god, I know you.
The woman’s hand fluttered to her small, rounded belly, and she pressed a palm against the baby bump he remembered from his dream.
Sara.
“The baby, she kicked.” He could hear the quiver in her voice; see the tears that filled her eyes.
“No.” Nate shook his head. “It’s not possible.” He closed his eyes to try to clear them of this hallucination. My imagination is playing tricks on me. When he opened his eyes, she stood beside him.
“You don’t remember what happened?”
Nate stared down at her, fighting to keep the recognition out of his eyes. “What do you mean, what happened? I think I would remember meeting you, if we’d met in real life.”
She kept her voice low. “If we’ve never met, how do you know my name?”
“Why, I, I don’t know your name.”
“Yes, you do, Nathan. It’s right on the tip of your tongue. I can see it in your eyes. What’s my name? Say it.”
Her hand brushed against his and fire shot through him. Nate jerked his hand away. He turned from her and called the flight attendant. “Miss, is there another seat available?”
“Why yes, Mr. Neville, in the last row, but why do you want to move?”
“That will be fine.” He glanced at the redhead. She appeared stricken, hurt, bereft and absolutely furious. Her anger nearly stopped him in his tracks. If she was anything like his dream redhead, he knew exactly how much passion her slender body contained. He bit back a grin. God, when he thought of what he’d done with her in his dreams.
But that’s all they are, dreams, and to even consider the possibility that they might be anything more is absurd. She’s a redhead who resembles the dream woman and happens to be pregnant, nothing more.
Nate grabbed his bag and removed it from the luggage bin. He headed to the rear of the first class cabin, stowed his bag once again and sat down, sliding into the window seat. The flight attendant offered the glass of champagne, an apologetic smile on her face, but Nate declined. He no longer had any desire for it. He did, on the other hand, have an overwhelming desire to taste the redhead, Sara.
I’ll be damned if I’ll say her name.
As he fastened his seatbelt, a shadow fell across his face. Nate didn’t need to look up. He knew who stood in the aisle.
“You can’t hide from me, not on a plane. Certainly not for seven and a half hours.”
“I can try.”
She sat down beside him, careful not to touch him with any part of his body. She folded her hands in her lap. “If you don’t know me, why not sit with me?”
Nate had no answer for her. The silence between them was so thick Nate could cut it with a knife.
He felt relief when at last she took a deep breath. “I thought you were dead. You died in my arms.”
Nate snorted. He glanced at her. She still stared down at her hands. “I appear to be very much alive, not that I expect it to matter to you one way or another. We’ve never met.”
She lifted her head and he found himself staring into that familiar pair of hazel eyes. These are the eyes you’ve seen in your dreams, the eyes you’ve looked into when you’ve made love to her. Say something.
Nate shook his head. He looked at the attendant, avoiding Sara’s eyes. “I’d prefer to be alone, if you don’t mind, Miss Wise.”
Sara leaned close to him, brushing her lips over his earlobe. A tremor rushed through his entire body and he was immediately hard as a rock. She kept her voice low. “You were more man dead than you are alive.” With those words, she stood up and returned to her seat.
“What the bloody hell?” he called after her. Nate started to unbuckle his seatbelt, but the attendant shook her head as the plane backed out of the gate. She headed up front to begin her safety speech.
Damn that woman. She can be so exasperating.
How would you know she can be exasperating? You don’t even know her.
The hell you don’t. You know every inch of her luscious body. You know everything about her. You bloody coward.
Impatient, Nate sat through the take off, fidgeting until the pilot announced they’d reached their cruising altitude. He flipped his seatbelt off before the crackling over the intercom ended. He stormed down the aisle, prepared to show her, what?
How much man you are? Here, on the plane?
Sara was already out of her seat, reaching into the overhead bin. “Take this.” She smacked him in the chest with a bound manuscript. “Read it. It’s your story. You helped me write it. I just received a contract offer from a publisher in New York.”
Nate grabbed for the sheaf of papers before she dropped it. “What are you talking about?”
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes flashed anger. “Shut up and read it, you ghost. What else do you have to do for seven hours in your lonely seat?” Turning away from him, she zipped up her bag, shut the overhead bin and sank back down. She looked in his direction, eyes roaming over him from head to toe. “Well, why are you still here? Shoo.”
A grin split Nate’s face. Laughing, he bowed to her like a courtier. “Yes, my lady.” With a shake of his head, he carried the manuscript back to his seat. He flipped the bound copy over in his hands. Incorporeal.
Nate accepted a glass of wine from the flight attendant and opened the manuscript to the first page. This ought to be interesting.
***
He remembers me, I know he does. I could see recognition in his eyes. Sara shook her head. But this is impossible. His existence in real life is impossible.
Why? Her heart soared as she imagined Nathan back in her life. Why is it so impossible? His presence, here, on this plane, is no more impossible or improbable than his first appearance in your shower. He’s here. He’s alive; even if he doesn’t remember everything that happened. He could be with me, a father to his… No, don’t even dream about that. He might be married and have other children, or maybe he’s engaged.
Did I see a ring on his finger?
Sara closed her eyes and tried to remember. No, he wasn’t wearing a ring.
Relieved, she turned to stare out the window. The view from her side of the plane was the cold, gray Atlantic Ocean as far as the eye could see. I want to go back there, even if he won’t let me touch him. I want to go back there just to be near him; to hear him breathe, to feel the warmth of his body next to mine.
No. He needs space. Put yourself in his place. How would you feel if the situation was reversed?
I’d feel like some fucking nutcase was stalking me. Oh, wait, that already happened.
Sara massaged the side of her head. She didn’t know whether to laugh out loud, throw a pregnant woman tantrum, or fly into hysterics. Keeping calm in the face of Nathan’s miraculous appearance was damn near impossible. All she wanted to do was hold him tight and never let him go.
How eerie. You can take the man out of the medieval, but you can’t take the medieval out of the man. He still looks like he stepped right out of the Fifteenth Century. He even comes equipped with a sexy British accent, from the north of England. She smiled. With that tousled hair and hard, rough build? I’d give anything to lie in his arms right now; anything except his child.
Her smile vanishing, Sara fought back tears. Yeah, guess I wouldn’t believe me either. I sound like a crazy woman.
So what else is new?
***
Four and a half hours into the flight, Nate set the manuscript aside. He glanced at the cheese and fruit plate the flight attendant had left for him, but the only thing he wanted at that moment in time was Sara Wise, in his arms. Closing his eyes, he stretched, forcing himself to remain seated. He knew deep inside what he’d just read was the truth, but to give the notion any credence was the definition of insanity.
How did she come up with the name, de Manua?
She got it from me, of course, or from my so-called ghost. He shook his head. Incorporeal. What a perfect title. Nate couldn’t help it, he grinned. He’d been reading with a hard on for an hour. The bedroom scenes she’d written in the book were straight out of his dreams.
I must be in the hotel room, sound asleep, because this cannot be possible.
Out of the blue, Nate remembered. The flight has wifi.
He pulled his laptop from the satchel and switched it on. In a short time, he was googling Sara Wise, California and serial killers.
Ten minutes later, Nate shoved the laptop aside and sat back in his chair. Christ, the woman is telling the truth. The man who was killed, Nathan de Manua, saved two lives; three if you count the unborn child.
This is nothing more than a weird coincidence. I don’t put any stock in dreams and fairy tales, nor in ghosts. I never have.
But you know the entire story. You’ve lived it every night for two months.
Nate’s head throbbed. Nothing about the situation made sense. If he hadn’t dreamed of her, if he didn’t remember the luscious taste and smell of her… But that’s a moot point, don’t you think? You know every inch of her soft skin, intimately. Even if your brain doesn’t, your dick does. Uncomfortable, Nate shifted in his seat.
You should talk to her.
Nate met her in the aisle as she walked his way. She stopped a foot from him, and he watched her fists clench and unclench, as if she tried to stop herself from reaching for him.
“I’m going to London, on business,” she said, eyes locked on the pulse in his throat. “And then I’m traveling to Spain, to Andalusia, to see where you were born, where your mother, Katherine, died. I’m naming my baby for her.”
“My mother is alive and well and living on the family estate up north.”
He caught the roll of her eyes. “I won’t explain myself to you. There’s nothing I can say that you’d believe in any case. I just thought you should know.”
“Now I know.” Nate inhaled, savoring the fragrance of her hair.
“Here’s my card.” She grabbed his hand and thrust a business card into it.
Nate felt like he’d been struck by lightning. When she tried to withdraw her hand, he held onto her.
“Let go of me, ghost.”
“No.” Without further hesitation, Nate drew the woman into his arms. He threaded his hands through her thick, silky hair. Twining the fiery curls around his fists, he tilted her head back. Damn those lips look delicious. As if she heard his thought, she parted them and he was lost.
Nate lowered his mouth to hers, starved for the taste of her. He plundered her willing mouth exactly as he’d done in his dreams, but his dreams couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Her warmth washed over him, she tasted sweet; her scent was that of summer. The feel of her in his arms was as natural to him as breathing.
At long last, he lifted his head. “Damn, Sara, I’ve missed you.”
Where did that come from?
Sara’s lower lip began to tremble, but she looked up, her wide eyes guileless. “Do you remember?”
Nate shook his head. “I don’t know what I remember. But I remember you.”
They stood in silence
for several minutes. At last Nate said, “I don’t understand.”
Sara smiled though her eyes filled with tears. “I never understood either.”
Chapter Nineteen
Once they reached Sara’s hotel room, neither said a word. Nate removed her clothes as soon as she’d shut the door. He didn’t ask a single question because he knew she couldn’t provide an answer that made sense.
There was no logical explanation for his overwhelming need for Sara. The only thing he knew with absolute certainty was that he would not be satisfied until he’d made love to her, not in some dream, but in the here and now, in the flesh.
He expected Sara to protest; say something like, maybe we should take it slow, or I don’t really know you, but she didn’t. She responded to his lightest touch with reckless abandon.
Nate forced himself to take care, she was pregnant after all, but he couldn’t wait. He had to be inside her. He sat her on his lap so he could bury himself deep and play with her beautiful breasts at the same time. Thirty minutes later, he was ready for seconds, but this time, he managed to go slow, bringing her to orgasm over and over again before he let himself finish with her.
After the third time, Sara fell into an exhausted sleep. Turning onto her side, she curled against him like a tired kitten, while Nate drifted in a half-sleep, his craving for her eased somewhat; his hunger temporarily appeased. Holding her felt right, despite all his reservations and unanswered questions. Nothing had changed, the story was all nonsense, but at that moment, Nate didn’t much care. He smiled as the child she carried pressed an appendage against his side.
My child? Hah. I must be crazy to even consider the possibility.
It was his last conscious thought before he joined Sara in sleep.
***
“Nathan.” A woman called his name. Her voice sounded familiar. “Nathan,” she called again.
Green grass, there’s green grass beneath my feet. Nate lifted his eyes and studied his surroundings. He stood beside a tumble-down stone wall. The rocks were worn, weathered and ancient. Just beyond the wall, he spied a cliff. Ignoring the woman’s voice, he scrambled over the rough stones and walked to the edge, peering down at the ocean. Waves washed over fallen boulders, crashed against the steep sides of the crumbling cliff. The sight of the swirling whirlpools and battling currents stirred something inside him. A thread of memory seemed to float just out of reach. Disconcerted, Nate stepped back from the edge.