Heck, he thought, going inside to call Zane, maybe she’d been a figment of his imagination. Wishful thinking after something of a scare.
Minutes later Zane’s grumbling got Jonas’s mind back in focus.
“That fuel pump isn’t a year old,” Zane fussed. “Cost a pretty penny, too. Couldn’t be anything else.”
“You’re welcome for me bringing down the plane in one piece.” Jonas couldn’t help but smile at the way his friend got straight to his priorities.
“Next time use the parachute. I’m starting to feel like the insurance premium isn’t worth the expense of keeping those old girls airborne.”
“Parachute? You failed to mention exit accoutrements are included in this deal. As cheap as you are I wouldn’t trust it wasn’t one of Betty’s tablecloths stuffed in that case.”
“Oh, you know I’m grateful. Damn it all, I’d never have forgiven myself if something happened to you. Let’s just forget this deal. You cancel any reservations on the books—Betty already said that’s what we should do—and I’ll use this downtime to rethink matters. In fact, I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes to post notice myself and write Miranda a check to get her through the month so she can make her next car payment and still look for another job.”
“You stay put. You know the doctor said you’re supposed to keep your butt home, and your leg up.”
“They don’t pay my insurance premiums.”
“Just stay put anyway. Think this through and if it’s what you really want, she can come to your house tomorrow for the check, but don’t jump to any life-changing decision because of me. I make my own decisions and choose my own risks.”
Jonas sent Miranda home after that but stayed to study the plane for another couple of hours. What else did he have to do? Zane and his wife, Betty, deserved some quiet time to talk—as loudly or passionately as they wanted to—without being aware he was in the guest room.
By the time he locked up and started down the road, he had an idea in his head that was too tempting to pass on. It had arrived just after he’d reported to Zane that he thought he had the plane ready to test again. He’d had Zane call in a favor or two and figured out the rest of Alyx’s cousin’s name and got her address.
As he entered her road, a hilly and winding dead end, he was captivated by the unique adobe southwestern architecture…until he saw a shapely brunette pretending to chase a leggy hound around an SUV. That couldn’t be Alyx, he told himself. She wasn’t athletic, and while he knew she was here to watch a dog as part of her responsibility to her cousin, she wasn’t a huggy-feely animal lover. But as she rounded the corner of the RAV4 again, he recognized that green outfit she was wearing—and that blond dog was a greyhound all right.
He pulled up to the curb and saw her pause as she stared at the Mustang. The dog stopped like a statue before her and looked from him to her. Sensing it was well-behaved, he climbed out to walk over to them.
“You,” she murmured as he stopped maybe two yards away.
“Yes.” He glanced down at the sleek greyhound who eyed him with curiosity, if not complete trust. “Is he okay to pet?”
“She. Her name is Grace and she’s reserved but loving when she warms to you.”
Jonas crouched down, despite some knee pain from bumping his leg during the imperfect landing today. “Well, hello, Grace. You are a child of your ancestors, aren’t you? It looks like you’ve warmed to your babysitter.”
“No one is more stunned than me,” Alyx admitted, crossing her arms under her breasts.
After Jonas stroked the dog for another minute, he rose and met Alyx’s own nervous gaze. It was good to see color in her cheeks even if it was exertion mixed with embarrassment that he’d seen her at play—or at least relaxed.
“How did you find me?”
He pointed overhead. “Friends in high places.”
Her gray eyes went wide. “You went up again? In that…thing?”
He shrugged. “What goes down has to go up again. But not yet. No, what I meant was that I had friends find your cousin’s address.”
“The same person or people you’re helping?”
“Let’s say friends of friends.”
“Once an operator always an operator.”
“Come on, like you haven’t used your resources outside of a trial?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You’re calling me a liar?”
The calmly posed question had Jonas backpedaling fast. He’d meant to tease and challenge, not accuse. Since when had she become so sensitive? Just as quickly he wanted to slap his palm against his forehead. No, she would use any resource for a client, but never merely for herself. It would remind her too much of her father’s opportunistic ways.
Backtracking, he opened the Mustang’s passenger door and picked up the bouquet of flowers on the leather seat. Returning to her, he offered the token he’d detoured to pick up on his way, a robust bouquet of sunflowers and eucalyptus. “I’m not saying that,” he continued. “What I meant to do by coming here was to thank you for checking on me.”
Alyx focused on the bouquet. At first he worried she might reject them; then she slowly reached out her hands.
“I didn’t intend for you to see me.”
“I figured that out when I looked again and you’d vanished.”
“I wanted to get out of there before your office girl spotted me. She’s rather territorial about you.”
Jonas rolled his eyes. “The less said about that, the better. I’m hoping if I ignore it, she’ll get the hint and aim for someone in her own age bracket.”
“Don’t hold your breath or you’ll end up in Emergency after all.”
Looking pained, he asked, “Can we change the subject?”
“I’m glad you’re all right.”
Much better, he thought, filling his lungs with satisfying air. “It wasn’t as scary as it looked.”
“Spoken like someone who still has adrenaline racing through his veins.” Alyx touched the saffron-yellow petals of the sunflowers. “Thank you for these. How did you know they’re my favorite?”
“You had them on your entryway table at your house the first night you invited me for a drink, and there’s an oil painting of a bouquet of them above the buffet in your dining room.”
“Ever the perceptive G-man. Would you like to come in for something cool to drink?”
“Only if you really mean it and aren’t just being polite.” He already knew the answer she’d give him. Having cheated death herself, Alyx Carmel no longer did anything she didn’t want to do.
“Come in before the nosy neighbors rush out for an introduction. They’re a sweet elderly couple with too much time on their hands. I don’t know how Parke gets any work done.”
She led the way up the curved sidewalk lined by river rock and otherwise adorned by various cacti, some blooming delicate pink, and others looking dangerous enough to impale an ox. The front door was a massive oak creation etched in glass; the iron and glass chandelier Jonas passed under looked heavy and expensive.
“No wonder your cousin has a pharaoh’s dog,” Jonas said, looking around the foyer. “Her eye for form is exceptional.”
“Grace is retired from the racing world and lucky not to have become an entrée in a third-world restaurant,” Alyx said, keeping her voice low. “She was bred for track pups, and when few champions emerged, her owners intended to put her down. You wouldn’t believe how many of these poor creatures get killed every year when they’re no longer of financial value to their owners. Parke joined some rescue group that adopts them.”
It was probably his imagination, but from the sadness that suddenly darkened the dog’s eyes, Jonas would have sworn she understood every word Alyx said. He stroked the canine’s back soothingly. “I hope things are much better now, Gracie.” To his delight, the dog raised a paw to “shake.” “I guess you are a twenty-four-carat doll,” he chuckled and complied.
To Alyx he added, “It was good of your cousin to do that.”
Alyx closed the door behind them. “Yes. Very. It surprised me that she did it. Parke and I are alike in that we’re not…well, she’s obviously achieved a spiritual understanding of nature that I’ve yet to champion.”
“Grace seems to enjoy your company.”
She and the dog had enjoyed the little romp from the mailbox to run around the RAV. Alyx hadn’t planned it; it was something Grace had instigated. Not knowing what else to say, she gestured toward the interior of the house. “What will it be? Tea or lemonade?”
“How do you know about the rules of a pilot drinking?”
Alyx led the way down a marbled hallway, through an expansive wood-floored living room to an open kitchen. “A former client was a commercial pilot. I just assumed the rules were pretty much standard for anyone in a cockpit.”
As the elegant Grace veered to the living room and gingerly climbed onto the leather couch, Jonas followed Alyx, admiring the airy kitchen with the center island. “Whatever you’re having will be great.”
“Iced tea it is. I should warn you it’s peach-flavored.”
“Should I be scared?”
Alyx smiled as she filled two glasses with ice from the dispenser on a stainless refrigerator. “Usually, I avoid flavored teas and coffees, but Parke keeps tons of this on hand and I haven’t been hospitalized yet.”
Jonas was a purist himself as far as liquid consumption was concerned, but was busy taking in his surroundings. “This place is nothing short of spectacular. Your cousin is doing well with her work. Ha!—great mini–wine cooler,” he added as he spotted the pint-size refrigerator that on first glance looked like a dishwasher.
“I gave Parke that for her birthday after she’d sent me the bronze cactus-and-coyote pup piece that you liked at my house.”
“She did that piece?” Jonas had meant to ask, since it had impressed him immediately. At that time, though, their relationship had been all about seduction and lust. “She’s fantastic.”
“That’s why she’s in Italy. She’s been taken under the wing of some—” Alyx gestured, at a loss for words “—mentor—who is personally involved in guiding her through the ruins, museums and private collections, opening her eyes anew to the masters and exposing her to la dolce vita.”
Jonas tested the phrase on his tongue. “I actually saw some of that movie back when I was a teenager. Don’t remember coming upon any nude scenes,” he added, pretending all seriousness. “I’m pretty sure I flipped channels hoping that I’d find some—or else a football or basketball game.”
Handing him a moisture-beaded glass, a smiling Alyx replied, “I believe that.”
Determined to keep things lighthearted—even at the expense of his own reputation—he continued, “So, this guide is an actual teacher-mentor? Not a lover?”
“I haven’t asked, and she’s not likely to tell.”
There was nothing else for Jonas to do but taste the tea. “It’s good.”
“Perhaps before you leave Arizona, you can sample one of Parke’s collection of wines that were created by another acquaintance.”
“Got it,” he replied, slowly nodding as though indexing data. “Not a friend…but she may have done work for him?”
There were times Alyx’s slicing gaze could laser the wings off a gnat, but on this occasion her glance suggested that she enjoyed his lightheartedness.
“She did do work for him. The iron-and-stone entry gate for his vineyard is her creation. A sketch is on every label. Check it out.”
She retrieved a bottle from the cooler. Jonas couldn’t help but whistle in admiration at the captivating work and could only conclude such creativity was inspired by great wine. “If I grovel adequately, will you let me see her studio?”
“You’re a collector of art?”
He could have kissed her there and then. She drove him nuts when she pulled that haughty, under-her-lashes-and-down-her-nose diva look. “You know what I collect,” he replied, challenging her gaze with his own. “Criminals. But I don’t want to leave Arizona without seeing all of the reasons why people from both coasts and other countries flock here like brides going to one of those once-a-year gown sales. Have you watched the tour buses unload? There are, of course, the grunge dressers who are only interested in a T-shirt and key chain that will end up in a junk drawer, but I’ve seen some visitors wait over an hour to photograph sculpture in the best light. As gorgeous as the rock formations are here, there’s architecture and sculpture that’s been photographed just as much.”
What a revelation to hear him share such curiosity and cultural awareness. The few times they’d eaten out together, Alyx had observed that Jonas enjoyed the dining experience, and it wasn’t about show or indulging in the expensive; he really had studied menus, enjoyed the tasting and sharing experience. But he also confessed to rarely indulging and admitted he mostly got through demanding schedules and grueling travel by surviving on frozen dinners.
“I’ve seen a few incidents similar to your tour bus experiences,” she told him. “In fact, it was a kick to see someone take family photos in front of one of Parke’s downtown sculptures. She is good at what she does.”
“So are you.”
Alyx knew she was looking at him as though he’d switched languages from English to a lost tongue. Why did he think he needed to reassure her? No, she resented him for breaking the magical moment.
As she began to turn away, Jonas touched her arm. Reluctantly, she glanced back at him.
“Tell me why you wouldn’t see me, talk to me after the attack? I understand how that two-legged pig threw you off your stride, but you’re a fourth-—or is it fifth-?—generation steel magnolia? The Alyx Carmel I knew would never let a creep like that keep her down.”
“Thank you. I think I have scars to prove that I succeeded.”
Some might consider that a gut punch, and she would have been the first. As soon as she saw him flinch, she regretted her retaliation. But it was too late.
“Can we sit down?” he murmured. “I think the day’s excitement is about to catch up with me.”
Alyx immediately beckoned him to one of the iron-and-caramel-suede kitchen barstools. “What can I get you? Should I call 911?”
“Don’t even think of it.”
“Tell me what to do!”
“Avoid going into nursing.” Jonas set the tea glass on the soapstone counter. “I think a glass of that cabernet would be a smarter choice. Please. And don’t think about opining about that, either. There won’t be any flying tomorrow.” Watching her go to work, he continued to make his point. “You know I have had sensitivity training—not to mention intravenous doses of diplomacy. All it takes to trigger either is communication.”
Handing him his wine, she poured for herself as well. “I’m sorry for going for the jugular.”
“And I swear I’m not here for payback or to judge you. Can we drop any further references to our professional work?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we’ve been who we are for too long.”
Jonas grunted. “Now that is defeatist.”
Alyx set to work rocking the kinks out of her neck. “The word is tired. Look, my father trained my brother and me to be workaholics and overachievers. No, not just trained—indoctrinated. He was extremely pushy and highly competitive. Our house wasn’t a home, it was an Ivy League MBA course with something like a boxing club for recreation, only it wasn’t called that, it was called seasoning. You get my point?”
“I’m not sure that I do. Your father beat you?”
“He didn’t have to, all he had to do was get you into a ring with someone he’d rent for the day…then he would stand on the side and—encourage. His skills with language and disdain alone could turn you into a pugilist. I read or heard somewhere that Cameron Diaz broke her nose, what, three times? Surfing. I’ve got her beat and never stepped into an ocean until I was thirty.
“Unfortunately, my bro
ther, only a year younger than me, but a gentler soul, couldn’t take that kind of pressure. After the one time my father did put on gloves with us, Lone committed suicide.”
“Alyx…”
Looking overwhelmed as she’d never seen him, Jonas put down his glass. All she needed to do was meet his gaze and he would have taken her into his arms, but she saw enough out of the corner of her eye to make her stare hard at the speckled soapstone counter and will him to keep his distance.
“Lone is a sad name,” Jonas said at last.
Alyx nodded in slow motion. “Our father was intuitive in that way. He knew immediately that Lone would be what he saw as weak and would need reminding that one went through life alone and shouldn’t look to anyone for help.”
“And he named his daughter to be a warrior?”
She only managed half of a smile. “Fooled him, though. After Lone died, I switched my focus from corporate law to family law.”
“He undoubtedly railed that there was no money in that.”
“Unfortunately, there’s plenty, even after all of the pro bono cases.”
They sat there in a strangely comfortable silence; seconds could only be counted by when either of them took a breath. “I miss the sound of birds. Have you noticed there aren’t as many birds here? I miss being wakened by the birds that roost in the bushes outside my bedroom window in Austin. Not enough vegetation or water to sustain them, I guess.”
“You were the one to find your brother,” Jonas said instead of replying. “No wonder years later you raced to Cassandra Field’s house without telling anyone after Dylan’s swearing in. You probably didn’t think at all. All you wanted to do was defend her from the monster she had called husband as you hadn’t been able to defend your brother against your father.”
An officer later told her that he’d never seen such a vicious crime scene. Alyx had arrived on the tail end of a perfect storm of violence, and was caught between a man who would not accept failure or rejection and a woman asking only for the dignity of a quiet independent life.
The Last Man She'd Marry Page 6
