I Promise (7 page)

D
uring his drive home, Jordan turned off the car radio and listened to the distant rumble of thunder. The sky flashed with a vibrant light and raindrops sprinkled across his windshield. His conscience scolded him, but he couldn't deny what he felt.

As he watched the road through the swishing of his windshield wipers, his thoughts drifted back to the woman he'd left only moments ago. Her angelic face and onyx eyes held something behind their rich color—a secret perhaps.

He shrugged off the thought. Maybe he read too much into the matter. He laughed at his schoolboy antics. It wasn't like he didn't have enough trouble. He should have a talk with Malcolm. Now there was an explosion waiting to happen.

The rain's sudden downpour made Jordan ease his foot off the accelerator. Spots along the asphalt had his car gliding more on the water than the pavement. As cars zipped past him, he shook his head at the risk most drivers took.

Risk. He was a fine one to condemn people for taking risks.

Much later, he lay awake in his old bed at his parents' house, staring up at the ceiling. The storm continued to rage in counterpoint to his inner turmoil. He wanted to see Christian again. His eyes drifted closed and he swore the room smelled of jasmine.

He imagined they were back out in the gardens with the band's soft, seductive music drifting on the wind. He remembered the white-sequined, stunner dress covering skin the color of chocolate, texture as soft as silk. The way she had held her head and the quiet way her eyes had met his sent a rush of heat through his loins. A taste of desire sweetened in his mouth. He'd never believed in love at first sight, but now he wasn't so sure.

If only they'd met in another time, another place, things wouldn't be so complicated.

Jordan woke from his reverie and emptiness engulfed him. He looked over at his brightly lit digital clock. It was four in the morning. In just a few hours, she'd be on a plane to Texas. He'd probably never see her again.

He sat up. His gaze remained locked on the clock. He didn't like the way the word
never
sat with him. Another flash of lightning brightened his bedroom. By the time it had fallen dark again, Jordan had risen from his bed and made his way to the window. The storm's strong winds picked up their velocity and the low howling grew louder.

At this rate, he would never get any sleep. He turned from the window, snatched his robe from the foot of the bed, and left his room. He traveled down the long hallway and descended the staircase.

His mind remained occupied with thoughts of Christian. No matter how much his conscience attacked him, he couldn't—wouldn't—deny how he felt.

He pushed open the kitchen's swinging door and stopped in his tracks. His brother sat perched on a stool in front of the counter with his head lowered in the palms of his hands and his elbows propped on opposite sides of a steaming cup of coffee.

“Mind if I join you?” Jordan asked, crossing over to one of the cabinets and abstracting his own cup.

Malcolm moaned, but didn't look up at him.

Pulling up a stool beside his brother, Jordan poured his coffee. “Unable to sleep?”

Again, Malcolm didn't answer.

Jordan clenched his jaws together and nodded. “So is this the way it's going to be between us? You're never going to talk to me, blaming me for your broken engagement?”

No answer.

Frustrated, he stood from his chair. His heart squeezed and an unbearable pain throbbed in his chest. “I know in the past we haven't been able to see eye to eye on things, but we have always gotten along. You're more than my brother, you're my best friend.” He looked up at the ceiling as if asking God for help. “We've always been able to talk to each other. I hurt you and I'm sorry.”

The heavy silence that stretched between them seemed to last forever before Malcolm lifted his head and turned his bloodshot eyes toward his brother. “Are you seeking forgiveness?”

“Yes.”

“Granted. Now will you leave me alone?” Malcolm turned his back toward Jordan and took a sip of his coffee.

The kitchen door swung open and Clarence halted at seeing the two brothers. “Now what are you two doing up at this hour of the morning?”

“Nothing,” Malcolm answered. “Jordan was just leaving.”

Clarence's brows lifted as his gaze darted from Malcolm to Jordan. “I take it this is a bad time?”

“I'm not leaving until we resolve this,” Jordan declared, crossing his arms.

“Fine. Then I'll leave.” Malcolm jumped to his feet, but his legs failed to support him.

Jordan caught him before he hit the floor. “Easy.”

Grudgingly, Malcolm accepted his brother's assistance back onto the stool.

“A little too much to drink tonight, I assume,” Clarence assessed. “I know just the thing for that.”

“‘You know just the thing' for what?” Noah asked, entering the kitchen.

“Why don't we just post a sign on the door and have a party.” Malcolm's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Noah's gaze raked his son. “Looks like you're still having women problems.”

“I was thinking the same thing myself, sir,” Clarence added. “I'm going to make him my famous hangover remedy.”

“God forbid.” Noah cringed.

Jordan also made a face. “That stuff tastes like dried leather.”

Clarence turned and faced the men. “Never mind how it tastes. It does the job, doesn't it?”

“Would you all mind not talking so loud?” Malcolm moaned.

“Mind if I ask what brought this on” Noah crossed his arms.

“Ms. McKinley,” Jordan answered. “I kissed her out in the gardens last night during the party. Granted, I should've told her who I was, but I guess I…”

“You guess you were what?” Malcolm's gaze challenged Jordan. When he didn't answer, Malcolm proceeded. “You can't even admit it. Can you?”

Noah intervened. “Now keep your cool, Mal. I'm sure you're jumping to the wrong conclusion. Besides, Jordan's been away for a long time. He didn't know how you felt about the girl.” He swept his arm dramatically. “Heaven knows you've had your fair share of women. How was he to know you were so serious about this one? Hell, I have to admit I'm a bit surprised myself.”

Malcolm shook his head. “It doesn't matter.”

“The plot thickens.” Noah crossed his arms. “You would think that this was the first time you've been dumped.”

“I guess that's one way of putting it.”

“Easy come, easy go, I always say.”

“So you've told me.”

“Frankly, I'm surprised you're taking it so hard.” Noah looked at his son. “It was my impression you hardly knew the girl.”

Malcolm forced his gaze to focus on his father. “Didn't you propose to Mom after only dating her for six weeks?”

Noah puffed out his chest. “That was different.”

“How's that?”

“She was pregnant and her father had a gun.”

 

Christian peeled the sheets off her and sat up in bed. She was never going to get to sleep. How could she, with thoughts of her standing in the middle of a paradise garden and wrapped in the arms of Jordan Williams running through her mind?

That kiss. She could live forever on the memory of that one kiss. But what did it matter? The minute he found out the truth about her, he wouldn't want her. She was convinced of that.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and moved toward the window. The storm had finally calmed and the gentle breeze that drifted through the window caressed her skin. Its delicate strokes were not unlike Jordan's hands.

She jerked away from the window and wished she would come to her senses. She looked over at the clock. It was almost five a.m. A few more hours and Atlanta would be behind her, along with Jordan Williams.

Jordan.
She even liked the way his name echoed in her mind.

“This is insane,” she muttered, grabbing her robe from the foot of the bed. She slid out of the bedroom and went straight to the kitchen. She rounded the corner, pausing to laugh at Alex hunched over a gallon of Häagen Dazs ice cream.

“What's the flavor for tonight?”

“French vanilla.”

“Sounds great. Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not. Dig in.”

Christian retrieved a spoon from the dish rack and joined Alex at the table. She scooped out her first bite, then moaned at its heavenly taste. “This is wonderful.”

Alex smiled. “I'm going to miss these early-morning raids.”

Christian laughed. As she leveled her gaze at her best friend, she sobered. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“I've got a feeling you're going to ask it anyway.”

“We've been friends for a long time. You know there's nothing that I wouldn't do for you.”

“You want to ask me about Malcolm.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Christian reached across the table and grasped Alex's hand.

“What's there to tell?” Alex pressed her lips together and massaged her neck with her free hand.

“You said you love him”

Alex's smile saddened. “It doesn't matter.” She pulled her hand away to cradle her forehead in her palms.

“I can't help but feel that I somehow betrayed you. I didn't mean to encourage Malcolm's advances, but still, I would have thought, given our history together, that you would have told me.”

“Chris, please don't take this personally. I couldn't admit to you how I felt about Malcolm, because I couldn't admit it to myself.” She shook her head as she sought for the right words. “I mean, he's completely wrong for me, and yet I can't stop thinking about him.”

“If you feel this strongly about it, you have to talk to him.”

“And tell him what? Outside of friendship, he doesn't even know that I'm alive. And I'm not quite sure I want him to. The man goes through women like water.” Alex gave a short laugh, then shook her head, but not before Christian caught a glimpse of the glossy sheen in her friend's eyes.

“It's just not like you. Between the two of us, you're the bold one with the devil-may-care attitude.” Christian stood. “I have never known you to—”

“What? Give up?” Alex wiped her at her eyes, then stood up from the table. She snatched open the freezer and grabbed another gallon of ice cream.

Christian's eyes widened. “This is obviously more serious than I thought.”

Looking at the carton, Alex shook her head and put it back in the icebox. “I think I'm going to bed.”

“Wait. What are you going to do about Malcolm?”

Alex took a deep breath, shrugged her shoulders, and simply said, “Nothing.”

Hartsfield International Airport
Monday, 8:45 a.m.

C
hristian dragged four bags off the Marta train and into the airport, muttering how her morning had turned into a nightmare. As a result of her late night, she had overslept. If she made her flight, she knew it would be nothing less than a miracle. Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and an oversized T-shirt, she raced toward the ticket counter.

Delta Airlines' Flight Seventeen for Dallas, Texas, is now ready for boarding.

Christian muffled a curse at the overhead announcement and struggled to hurry.

Her body jerked to a stop when her bags had collided with another pile of luggage.

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” she apologized, dropping her purse next to the cluttered mess. She glanced at her watch, then rushed to separate the bags.

The slight flash of irritation disappeared from the young teenager when he looked up at her.

“N-No, it's no problem. I—should have been looking where I was going. My name is T-Tim.” He offered her his hand.

“It's nice to meet you.” She smiled and piled the last bag back onto her cart. She refused the stranger's offered hand as a precaution.

“Where are you heading?” he asked with a spreading grin.

“I'm sorry, but I'm really late for my flight.”

She shared another smile with him then turned, but stopped when she realize that she was forgetting something.

She faced the teenager.

“Y-you almost forgot this.” He handed over her purse.

“Thank you.” She accepted it, positioning the strap over her shoulder, then raced toward the ticket counter.

When she reached the Delta ticket counter, the line looked a mile long. She looked at her watch just as another announcement for her flight came over the intercom. The line crawled at a snail's pace. Christian entertained thoughts of being rude and cutting her way through the crowd.

A ticket agent opened another counter and asked for passengers waiting to board Flight Seventeen to transfer into the new line.

Christian whispered a prayer of thanks, then snatched up her bags and rushed to the ticket counter.

“Thank you for flying Delta Airlines. May I help you?”

“Just a second.” She reached for her purse. “Do you think I'll make the flight?” she asked unable to keep the apprehension from her voice.

“Yes, ma'am.”

Christian frowned when her hand hit the empty space in her purse. “Just a sec.” She plopped her purse on the ticket counter and dug through its skeletal contents.

“I don't believe this!”

“Ma'am?” The agent waited patiently.

Customers behind her griped and complained.

Panic seized her as she turned to search her valise. Not only was her voucher missing, but her wallet as well.

“Ma'am, let me get the next person in line while you look for your ticket.”

She slid her belongings down the counter and continued her frantic search.

Nothing.

The harder she looked, the more frustrated she became. Fear seared through her as her heart sank with the sure knowledge that she wouldn't find them.

She raced her fingers through her short hair and struggled to remember where she'd placed everything. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that she'd placed the items in her purse before she left the apartment. She had to have had her wallet in order to get on the train this morning, she rationalized. Could she have left it on the train?

She glanced back at the line. At the sight of the last customer for her flight at the ticket counter, she checked her watch again. At this point, if she found her ticket, she would have no other choice than to fly standby.

Great!

Embarrassed, she gave the ticket agent an apologetic smile, gathered her bags, and headed toward the line of pay phones near the gift stores.

“Operator, I would like to make a collect call to my home number.” She waited after she gave the number while the operator connected the call. “Come on, Alex. Pick up the phone.”

After the tenth ring, Christian slammed the phone back into its cradle and muttered a curse. If it weren't for bad luck, she would have no luck at all. Then again, what did she expected for a Monday?

 

Dripping wet from the shower, Alex dashed from the bathroom, flew across her bed as her hand reached for the phone. “Hello?”

Dial tone.

“Damn.” She peeled herself up from her now-wet sheets and dropped the handset back into its cradle. At the sight of the time displayed on her bedside clock, she sprang into action. She was late.

A knock sounded at the front door.

“Great. I'm never gonna get out of here.” She grabbed her silk robe to cover her nudity and rushed to answer it.

The visitor knocked harder.

“I'm coming,” she snapped, approaching the door. She frowned at how her robe had plastered to her body. Half expecting to find one of the other college women on the other side of the door, a startled cry of alarm wedged in her throat at the sight of her visitor. “Malcolm!”

 

Jordan parked in what had to be the last parking space at Hartsfield Airport. This was crazy. There was no way he'd be able to make it to the boarding gate in time to catch Christian before she left. But knowing how reliable airlines were, there was a chance that the flight was delayed.

He rushed out of his car in one fluid motion and raced across the parking lot. His heart sank with each plane lifting off the ground.

 

Christian picked up her bags and dragged them to the nearest set of chairs. She slumped into a seat and contemplated her next move. Bobby and her Uncle Pete weren't due back to the ranch until tomorrow and there was no way of reaching either of them. What was the point? With no identification, she still wouldn't be able to board a plane.

The teenager!

Jumping to her feet, she scanned the crowded area.

“I don't believe it. He robbed me!” Could the morning get any worse? Christian dropped back into her chair. No money, no credit cards, and no ID, what was she going to do?

Her stomach growled and reminded her she'd skipped breakfast. She shook her head, when out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. Her body surged with acknowledgement as a question formed on her lips. “Jordan?”

Christian stood, grabbed her purse and raced after him.

Jordan made it to the security checkpoint, then turned when he heard his name called. He smiled at the sight of Christian prying her way through the throng of people. With her face scrubbed clean of makeup, and her hair free of curls, how was it possible she was even more beautiful?

“I thought I was never going to catch up with you,” she gasped, inhaling huge gulps of air.

“I'm glad you did.” His face scrunched in confusion. “Was your flight delayed?”

“No such luck.” She smiled, then placed her hands on her hips.

“Don't tell me you missed your flight.”

“Strike two.” She shook her head. “Actually, I think I was robbed.”

Jordan sobered. “Come again?”

“I'm not quite sure what happened or the details. I just know my plane tickets, my wallet, everything is gone.”

“Are you all right? When did this happen?” He grasped her gently by the arm and led her away from the congested area.

“Not too long ago. It's my fault really. There was this kid and I should've been looking where I was going…what I was doing.”

Jordan's pensive gaze darted around them. “Do you remember what he looks like? Have you talked to security?”

Christian blinked. “No. I guess I was just feeling sorry for myself.”

“Come on.” His hand settled on the small of her back as he led her away.

 

“Hello, Alex,” Malcolm greeted her with a warm smile.

Crossing her arms in hopes of hiding the way her robe molded against her body, she tried to sound casual in asking, “What are you doing here?” She caught the note of hope in her voice and cringed.

“I came to apologize.”

“Oh?” Her gaze assessed him. It was the first time she had seen him in a suit.
Handsome
seemed too mild a word to describe him. Aware of the lapse of silence that hung between them, she voiced the only question that came to mind. “About what?”

“Are you kidding? I behaved like a jerk last night.”

Speechless, Alex allowed hope to flicker in her heart.

“Well, are you going to invite me in?”

She remembered her robe. “Oh, huh—could you give me just a minute? I need to run and put on something more appropriate.”

Malcolm's brows lifted in curiosity, while his voice lowered. “You mean there is nothing between me and you other than this door?”

Alex's cheeks grew warm. “Something like that,” she teased back. “Just give me a minute.” She laughed and closed the door.

Seconds later, she reappeared at the door dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

“Sorry,” she said, inviting him inside.

Malcolm laughed as he entered the small apartment.

“Can I get you something to drink?” She shut the door behind him.

“No. I can't stay, really. I have to get over to the office. So I need to make this quick.”

Alex nodded, folded her arms, and waited.

Malcolm waited.

“Well?” She rolled her hand, signaling for him to get on with it.

“Well, where is Christian? Isn't she on her way out here?”

Alex's heart shattered.