Come Fly With Me (44 page)

"You
know
I
can't
do
that."

"Right.
It's
the
job,
of
course."

"Why
do
you
always
think
the
worst
of
me?
Did
it
occur
to
you
for
a
minute
that
maybe
I
came
here
because
I'm
trying
to
be
nice?"

"No,
I
don't
buy
that.
I
think
every
move
you
make
is
Alex-centric.
I
actually
have
a
hard
time
knowing
what
to
believe
when
you
open
your
mouth."

"That's
harsh."

"It's
the
truth,
and
I'm
all
about
the
truth
right
now."

He
got
up
to
leave
and
then
double-backed.
"Keep
it
up,
push
everyone
away
and
see
what's
left
for
you
after
that."

She
stayed
seated,
one
leg
over
the
other
as
it
swung
back
and
forth
to
the
steady
rhythm
of
the
pelting
sleet.
The
crunch
of
boots
as
people
passed
by
outside
was
the
only
accompaniment
to
their
silent
duel.

"I
could
stand
here
forever,"
Alex
finally
said.

"That's
your
choice."

"No.
It's
actually
yours.
Believe
in
me,
believe
in
yourself.
Have
some
faith
in
something,
for
heaven's
sake."

"Now
you
sound
like
my
Hebrew
teacher,"
she
said.

"It's
always
a
comeback
with
you,
just
stop."
He
walked
over
to
her
and
reached
down
to
unfold
her
crossed
arms.
"Your
arms
are
stiff;
they're
covering
you
like
a
suit
of
armor.
You
know
the
unyielding
branch
breaks
off,
while
the
limber
one
learns
to
sway
in
the
wind."
He
tried
to
pull
her
up,
and
she
pulled
back.

"Oh
please,
now
would
you
stop
with
the
lines!
Say
something
real.
Be
honest
with
me."

"Okay,
I
really
like
you,
and
I
really
want
the
job."

She
mulled
that
over
for
a
few
minutes.
Her
shoulders
sagged,
and
he
seemed
to
take
that
as
an
opening.
She
allowed
herself
to
be
pulled
up
this
time
and
was
surprised
when
he
pulled
her
into
a
spin
ala
Fred
and
Ginger.
He
pulled
her
back
towards
him
again
and
then
held
her
firmly
in
his
arms.

"Allison,"
he
murmured
softly
in
her
ear.
"Let
it
go.
Allow
yourself
to
trust
someone.
We're
going
to
stand
here
like
this
indefinitely
until
I
feel
your
trust."

"You're
asking
a
lot
of
me,"
she
looked
in
his
eyes
as
she
warred
with
herself.

"And
I'm
prepared
to
give
a
lot
in
return,"
he
assured
her.

She
broke
eye
contact
and
looked
out
onto
the
still
night.
She
closed
her
eyes
and
willed
herself
calm.
He
was
solid
and
steady
and
that
was
all
she
needed
for
now.

"Kenyon,
it
smells
divine
in
here."
Allison
stood
just
inside
the
door
to
his
loft
as
she
unfurled
her
sky-blue
scarf
and
unbuttoned
her
camelhair
coat.

"Here,
let
me
take
those."
Ken
reached
for
her
things
and
walked
over
to
hang
them
on
the
coat
rack.

"You're
cooking
dressed
like
that?"
She
looked
at
his
black,
wool
pants
and
crisp,
blue
striped
shirt.

"I
considered
answering
the
door
wearing
my
French
maid's
outfit,
but
then
I
remembered
it
was
at
the
cleaners."

"You
don't
have
a
French
maid's
outfit."

"I
know,
but
the
moment
was
screaming
for
a
stereotypical
response."

She
rolled
her
eyes
and
chose
to
ignore
him.

"I
have
some
work
to
do
on
the
Watkins
project
and
I
think
better
when
I'm
dressed
in
my
work
clothes."

She
nodded,
"Did
you
put
wine
in
the
roast
beef?
I
detect
an
extra
nuance
in
the
air."

"It's
bay
leaf
and
marjoram
and
don't
even
pretend
you
know
anything
about
cooking."

Allison
smiled
as
she
set
the
table.
"I'm
really
sorry
about
you
breaking
it
off
with
Christopher,
but
I
have
to
admit
that
living
off
Thai
take-out
has
not
been
fun.
If
you
have
leftovers,
maybe
I'll
wrap
them
up
and
drop
them
by
his
door
with
a
note...'All
of
this
could
have
been
yours.'"

"He
isn't
worth
the
price
of
the
cab
fare."
Ken
brought
the
steaming
platter
of
meat
to
the
table.
He
doled
out
rosemary-roasted
potatoes
as
he
spoke,
"I
had
a
client
come
into
the
office
the
other
day,
Michael
Essex."