by Janet Dailey
“I'm sure you would know if Rick was working for you,” Shannon agreed with that. “I was wondering if you might know where he is. Evidently Rick talked to this Cody Steele. Is he in? Could I speak to him?"
“I don't know what good it will do you,” he shrugged. “He probably won't remember any more about this fella than I do.” He saw that she was going to insist on finding that out for herself, and grimaced his resignment. “But you can ask him."
Turning, he walked to the door standing ajar and pushed it open. Shannon had a glimpse of a lean, dark-haired man poring over papers on his desk. He glanced up at the interruption, cloaked in an attitude of extreme fatigue.
“Yes?” The weary edge to the man's voice asked for an explanation of the disturbance.
“Remember that phone call I got a few minutes ago, Cody?” the older man said. “Well, the lady is here—a cheechako. She wants to talk to you."
Shannon heard a sound like a long sigh, then the creak of a swivel chair being rocked back. The man in the office was lost from her view, blocked by the older and broader figure in the doorway.
“Send her in,” was the reply.
The older man stepped out of the way and motioned her inside the office. “He'll see you."
As she walked in, her gaze first noted how neat and orderly the office was compared to the outer room. Then her attention centered on the man behind the desk. He was rubbing a hand over his eyes, a gesture indicative of the tiredness she'd sensed before. The rubbing motion carried his hand to the back of his neck in an effort to ease its weary tension.
At that moment his glance fell on her, and a stillness held him in that position for the span of several seconds. Pitch-black hair framed his lean, sun-hardened features. His eyes were a shade of blue too light for his complexion, which gave an unusual intensity to his gaze. Shannon felt it penetrating her, probing with steady insistence.
In the blink of an eye he seemed to shrug off the tiredness and take on an air of crisp male vitality. There was a certain boldness in the way he looked at her as he swung to his feet, all six-plus feet of him. Working at the desk, he had appeared to be in his late thirties, but Shannon was revising the estimate backward now. He seemed much younger, although still very mature and experienced. She felt the thrust of his male vigor affecting her senses, heightening them in a responsive awareness of him as an attractive member of the opposite sex. It was a natural reaction that didn't disturb her.
“I'm Cody Steele.” He extended his hand to her in greeting. The action stretched the heavy knitted pullover sweater across the breadth of his shoulders, its dark charcoal color blending with khaki gray slacks.
“Shannon Hayes.” She shook his hand, liking the firmness of his grip.
His all-encompassing gaze had made a very thorough inspection of her, taking in all her feminine attributes. She doubted if his measuring look had missed anything, yet there had been nothing offensive about it. Shannon wondered why it was that some people could look upon a nude form with an expression that would make it appear to be an object of vulgarity, while others looked at nudity and revealed an appreciation for beauty in its natural form. Some men could undress her with their eyes and make her feel dirty and ashamed; and others, like Cody Steele, could look and make her feel proud of being a woman. She didn't understand the reason for the difference, but it existed.
“Won't you sit down, Miss Hayes?” His voice had a husky pitch to it that was pleasing to the ear. He motioned toward a captain-styled chair in front of his desk.
“Thank you.” She lowered herself onto the padded seat while he continued to stand behind the desk.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he offered.
Until that moment Shannon hadn't felt the need for any kind of stimulation, caffeine or otherwise. Now it sounded good. “Yes, please."
“Cream? Sugar?"
“Sugar,” she admitted.
A plain white cup was sitting on his desk. He picked it up and walked to the door standing ajar to the outer room. Cody Steele paused in its frame. “Dad? Miss Hayes would like a cup of coffee ... with sugar. I'll have one, too."
Dad? Recognition dawned in her eyes when the older man in the red plaid shirt took the empty cup from Cody's hand and disappeared in the direction of the coffee urn. They were father and son—partners. There was a resemblance, although Cody Steele's features weren't nearly as craggy as his father's, and he was taller and slimmer.
As Cody Steele turned to walk back to the desk while his father brought the coffee, his glance fell on the envelope Shannon was holding. The corners of his mouth were lifted to form a curving line, but there was a certain professionalism to his expression, veiling his male interest in her. At the desk he stopped to set a hip on the edge of it, one leg bent at the knee, and faced her.
“How can I help you, Miss Hayes?” he inquired.
“I'm trying to locate a pilot named Rick Farris. I received this letter from him nearly a month ago.” Shannon indicated the envelope in her hand. “From what he wrote, I had the impression he was employed by you."
“I believe my father already told you that we don't have anyone flying for us by that name.” He exhibited the same patience his father had displayed toward her inquiry.
“Yes, I know,” she admitted. “But Rick must have applied for a position with you. He wouldn't have written what he did if he hadn't had some contact with you."
A question glinted in his light blue eyes, a gleam of curiosity showing, but his father appeared then with the coffee, momentarily interrupting the conversation. Cody Steele waited until the cups had been set on the desk top.
“Offhand I don't recall the name, but I've talked to a lot of people in the past month or so, clients and pilots.” There was an expressive lift of his wide shoulders that admitted the possibility he had spoken to Rick. “Do you mind my asking why you are so anxious to locate this man? Is he a relative?"
“He's her fiancé,” his father answered for Shannon, and there seemed to be a warning in the look he gave Cody Steele, as if instructing him to behave himself.
There was a flash of indulgent humor in the light blue eyes, although they quickly narrowed slightly when they rested on Shannon. His gaze swung to the letter and envelope in her hand.
“What about the return address on the letter?” he asked.
“I went to the apartment,” she admitted. “The manager hasn't seen him in two weeks. Rick left one day and didn't come back.” Shannon tried to sound very matter-of-fact, but she heard the note of apprehension creep into her voice.
Cody Steele looked away, letting his attention focus on the cup of coffee he had picked up and allowing her the opportunity to take a firmer grip on her composure. When he spoke, it was to his father. “Close the door on your way out, dad."
His father cast a disapproving glance over his shoulder, but shut the door as he left. Shannon was in control of her nerves when she met the blue eyes again.
“Perhaps if you described your ... fiancé to me,” Cody Steele suggested.
“He's about your height, with sandy hair and hazel eyes.” She reached inside her purse for her wallet and the picture of Rick it contained. Removing the photograph from its plastic holder, she passed it to Cody.
He studied it, then flicked a considering glance at her. “His flying experience?” Dark brows were drawn together in a thoughtful frown.
“He's fully qualified. He has all his ratings.” Before she could continue, he nodded his head.
“Yes, I remember talking to him.” He returned the photo. “He had been an instructor for six months prior to coming here."
“Yes, that's right.” She smiled, relief showing in the faint dimples that dented her cheeks.
“You're from Texas,” Cody guessed. “Your ... fiancé was, too, as I recall."
“Yes.” Her smile widened. There was a responding glint of humor in his eyes. It intensified the inherent boldness that marked him.
“You needn't worry. We Ala
skans don't brag about how big the state is. We just pride ourselves on being unique."
The sparkle of wicked amusement was deliberately obvious. Then he added, more seriously, “I remember that your fiancé stopped by to inquire about a position with us, but we couldn't use him. I wish I could be of more help than that."
“Did he indicate where he could be reached?” Shannon persisted. “Or where he might be working?"
“He might have, but to tell you the truth, I didn't bother to keep his address. Our business is mainly cross-country charters. Despite his qualifications, he had no experience flying in Alaska, so I wasn't interested."
She was slightly stunned by this definite rejection of Rick's flying experience. Worse, she seemed to be faced with another dead end. As if sensing her dazed reaction, Cody handed her the cup of coffee. She sipped at the sugared liquid, then sighed deeply.
“I don't know where to go from here,” she murmured in confusion. “How can I find him?"
“I suppose you could start calling other flying services.” But his tone didn't sound too promising about her success. “Maybe he's given up and gone home. It's possible you wasted your time coming all the way up here."
“Rick knew I was coming.” She shook her head, refusing to believe his implication. “He was expecting me, so he wouldn't have left, not without letting me know. I talked to my parents in Houston just a little while ago. They haven't heard from him."
“How long have you been engaged?"
She didn't see the point to his question, but she answered it anyway. “A year."
“And how long has Rick been here in Alaska?"
“Six months. Why?” She suddenly challenged these questions that seemed to be delving into her personal life.
“You haven't seen him in six months. And you obviously haven't heard from him since you received that letter a month ago. Maybe he's had a change of heart,” Cody reasoned.
“No. That isn't possible.” Shannon denied that suggestion emphatically.
“Why?” He sounded curious more than anything else.
“Because two weeks ago he sent me a one-way plane ticket to Anchorage. Before he left Houston we agreed that as soon as he found a permanent job and a place for us to live he would send for me.” She returned his steady look. “Rick hasn't changed his mind, or he wouldn't have sent the plane fare."
“That doesn't explain why he moved two weeks ago without letting you know,” he reminded her.
“I'm ... not sure that he moved.” Shannon finally voiced the concern that had been on her mind since she'd left Rick's former apartment building. “He left some of his things in his apartment, some clothes and other things, including my picture. If he was moving to another place, why didn't he take all of his belongings?"
He raised an eyebrow at the question and avoided her look as he sipped at his coffee. “He said nothing to his landlord?"
“Just that he'd be back in a couple of days—before the rent was due.” Worry gnawed at her. She tried to reason it aside. “I keep telling myself that it's all a mix-up. My telegram went to the apartment, so Rick doesn't even know I'm here in Alaska. Now I don't know where he is or where he's working. If he moved I'm certain he would let me know his new address, because he knew I was coming any day."
“There is probably a simple reason.” He shrugged to indicate his lack of concern. “Perhaps he sent you his new address and the letter was lost in the mail. It has happened."
“That's true.” That hadn't occurred to Shannon, and she breathed a little easier at the thought. “Of course, that doesn't solve the problem of how I'm going to find him."
“Where are you staying?” He half turned to pick up a pen and find a clean slip of paper.
“At the Westward.” She watched him jot down the information.
“Why don't you let me check a few places, ask some questions,” he suggested. “I'll let you know what I find out, if anything."
“I would be grateful, Mr. Steele.” Her smile was small but warmly sincere.
“I'm counting on that, Texas,” he replied with a mildly roguish smile, turning her home state into a nickname. “And the name is Cody."
“Thank you ... Cody.” It was strange how easily she spoke his name. It seemed she had known him prior to this first meeting.
There was a loud knock at the door. “Yes?” Cody turned his head in that direction.
The door opened and the stockier build of Cody's father appeared. “I was just checking to see if you wanted some more coffee.” His sharp gaze darted from his son to Shannon, bright with suspicion and revealing surprise that there seemed to be no reason for it.
“Not for me,” Cody replied, and glanced at her.
“No, thank you,” she refused, and slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “I've taken enough of your time. I'd better be leaving."
“It's still raining out there,” his father advised.
“May I use your phone to call a cab?” Shannon requested as she rose to her feet.
Cody straightened from the desk to stand beside her. She was conscious of the warm male smell of him, elusive yet stimulating. Even with the added height of her boots, the top of her head still only reached his chin. At close quarters she was even more conscious of his sexual attraction. She had learned long ago that it was normal for an attractive male to arouse her interest, so she wasn't uncomfortable with the discovery that she found Cody Steele attractive. It had no effect on the way she felt about Rick.
“There's no need for you to call a cab,” Cody stated. “I have an appointment downtown. You're welcome to ride with me."
“Thank you. I—” Shannon didn't have a chance to finish her acceptance of his offer.
“What appointment?” his father wanted to know. “You didn't mention anything to me about it. Who do you have to see?"
“I'm going to see Darryl Akers at the bank.” Cody appeared to shrug away the importance of his meeting.
“If you're going to the bank, I'd better come along with you,” his father stated. “I'll get my coat."
“There's no reason for you to come with me.” But Cody was talking to an empty doorway. There was a grim dryness in the glance he slid in Shannon's direction. Then a glint of humor appeared to lighten the blue color of his eyes.
“Parents,” he mocked affectionately. “They never listen."
“True.” The corners of her mouth deepened with a contained smile, and his gaze observed the action, lingering for a pulse beat on the curve of her lower lip.
“How about that ride, Texas?” he asked.
“Yes,” she nodded, the chestnut length of her hair sweeping her shoulders.
“My car is parked outside the building.” He let the flat of his hand rest on the small of her back to usher her out of the office. There was a certain ease in the action that had a familiar quality, much too natural to raise any objection from Shannon.
His father was zipping the front of a light jacket as they entered the outer office. He reached the door ahead of them and held it open for Shannon. Cody's hand remained on the back of her waist to guide her, but his father was leading the way toward a late-model car parked in front of the building. He reached it first and opened a rear door, stepping aside so Shannon could slide in.
Cody forestalled her. “Why don't you let Miss Hayes sit in the front seat, dad?” he prompted his father, a thin edge of irritation creeping into his voice.
“I'd look pretty silly sitting in the back seat all by myself after we leave her at the hotel, now, wouldn't I?” his father reasoned.
“You could always move to the front seat,” Cody replied.
“What's the point in getting in, then getting out and getting in again?” his father argued, being deliberately difficult.
Shannon settled the disagreement. “I don't mind sitting in the back-seat.” She moved to take her place in the back.
“There, you see?” Cody's father beamed in triumph that he'd got his way. “She may be a cheech
ako, but she's not dumb. She has better sense than to stand around arguing about where she's going to sit when it's raining."
Cody made no reply as he saw Shannon safely inside, but his blue eyes were very expressive of his feelings when they met her glance. He was both irritated and amused by his father's maneuvering. Although she didn't understand the reason behind it, Cody obviously did.
When both men were in the car, Shannon asked, “What does cheechako mean?” It was the second time his father had used the term to describe her.
“It refers to a greenhorn or a tenderfoot,” Cody explained. “Quite often it's applied to anyone from the outside."
“Outside?” she questioned.
“Anyplace outside of Alaska."
It was a short drive to the hotel. His father began a monologue that lasted until they arrived, eliminating any exchange of conversation during the ride. Before Shannon climbed out of the car, Cody turned to look back over the seat.
“I'll be in touch later to let you know what I've found out,” he said.
“All right.” She stepped out of the car.
“Found out about what?” his father wanted to know as she shut the rear door. He continued his demand to find out what Cody was talking about, but she didn't actually hear the questions. She waved her thanks for the ride and noticed the tinge of exasperation in Cody's features at his father's incessant prying. Smiling to herself, she walked to the revolving entrance doors to the hotel.
The smile faded when she reached her hotel room. The boxes containing Rick's belongings were sitting beside her luggage. The sight of them started her wondering again where Rick was. Kneeling beside the boxes, she began going through them, looking for any clue—no matter how slim—that might tell her something.
Chapter Three
SHANNON HAD FOUND NOTHING in the boxes, not even a matchbook cover that might tell her of a restaurant or bar that Rick frequented in Anchorage. With the boxes repacked and stored in the hotel closet, she unpacked her suitcases.
