Last Chance at Love (6 page)

“You’re there?”

She controlled what she realized was excitement and anticipation and infused her voice with nonchalance. “Of course I’m here. You said you’d call me, didn’t you?”

If he detected coolness in her manner, he ignored it. “Allison. You may prefer watching the interview this evening on TV to accompanying me to my town hall lecture. If I were you, I’d catch the telecast, since your boss will probably see it. You saw us tape it, but it will appear very different on television.” It was good advice, and she might not have thought of that angle.

“Thanks, but I’ve been looking forward to being at your lecture, and I hate to miss the immediacy, that live quality of your talks. Where are you now?”

“Downstairs at the desk. Care to join me for coffee or something of that order? Nothing stronger, since I have to prepare for tonight.”

“I’ll be right down.”

She took in his lazy, disjointed stance as he leaned against the wall in front of the elevator door, waiting for her and smiling.
What a man!

“Hi.”

“Hi. How’d it go?”

He ordered coffee, and she settled for tea with milk. “Great. Did I detect a little testiness in your voice when I called a minute ago? What was that about?”

Warm blood heated her face. “I appreciate your suggestion that I watch that interview on TV, but how do I know you didn’t make it because you don’t want me to go to your lecture tonight?” Shivers raced through her and her nerve endings rippled, but she brazenly returned his stare.

“You heard the same lecture that night at the Library of Congress. If you think you’ll miss something by not seeing me deliver it again, then
please
be my guest. The more information you get, the better your chances of turning in a thorough and accurate story.”

She lowered her gaze, remorseful for having thought unkindly of him without reason. “I suppose you mean that; after all, it’s to your advantage that I deliver a factual report.”

His expression hardened. “Have it your way. I have to make some notes.” He stood, and she wished she’d been more charitable. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and walked away.

* * *

Allison watched Jake’s taped interview, and she knew he’d been right. His suggestion brought unexpected bounty, for the camera caught what she hadn’t seen: his momentary hesitations, occasional looks of disdain and flashes of annoyance at the interviewer that had been imperceptible to the naked eye. He was not a casual man. At the end of the program, she put away her notes, remembered that she’d promised to telephone her brother, and dialed his number.

“I just watched that guy,” Sydney informed her when she told him why she was in New York. “I read his book, too. He’s a powerhouse.”

“What else is new?” She hadn’t intended to sound forlorn, but Sydney could almost read her mind, so there was no point in covering up.

“Is there something between the two of you?”

“We’ve just met, Sydney.”

“Yeah, but it only takes a moment. What do you think our mother has done to me? She’s signed me up for one of her fund-raisers, and I have to stand on a platform in front of a bunch of women to be sold to the highest bidder for one evening.”

She made no pretense at controlling the mirth. “Strut your stuff, Sydney. It’s just a local fun thing; only people who live in Victoria participate. Otherwise, it would be unsavory.”

“Sure, but I don’t live here. As far as she’s concerned, neither of us has left home. Her first and last question no matter how often we talk is when am I coming home?”

“I know. Are you going to participate in that rookery?”

“I don’t have a choice, but I think I’ll pay someone to bid high for me.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m smart, and you bet I won’t be the only man to do that. You might try being clever and pay attention to that guy you’re following around. That’s a good man.”

“I’m not blind, Sydney.”

“I’m glad to know that; I’d begun to wonder. You need a man who’s more clever than you are and who knows it. I have a feeling this one fills that bill.”

“What? How can you... Sydney, this is my call, and I’m terminating it.”

His laughter rang out. “You’ll never change. Get too close to your truth, and you close the door. When you come this way, bring him to see me. Bye.”

She hung up. Pensive. Not much chance of that.

* * *

“What kind of audience did you have?” she asked Jake when he called an hour later. She’d told herself that she waited up to interview him about his lecture, but when she heard his voice she had to admit that her true reason had nothing to do with work.

“Wonderful. Jacked up my ego. Can you come down to the bar?”

She dressed hurriedly in a green silk jumpsuit and met him a few minutes later. As thanks for her trouble, his slow gaze made a seductive trip from her head to her feet before resting on her face. To her disgust, she looked downward, flustered and embarrassed.

“Beautiful.” As though the word was for his ears alone, he barely murmured it. He gave her an account of his lecture, a list of the round-table members who discussed his talk and his work, and his views on the audience’s reaction. Stunned at his thoughtfulness and kindness, she relaxed, unaware that her tough reporter’s cloak had slipped a fraction.

In the bar, they talked and sipped ginger ale, and Jake didn’t question his enjoyment of those companionable moments. He couldn’t say why he told her about the woman he’d seen walking across Park Avenue backward, stopping traffic for at least once in her life. On the other hand, he didn’t mention the stranger who he was certain had tailed him; she didn’t need to know that.

Chapter 3

J
ake walked the length of his hotel room, retraced his steps, and walked the same route again. He could not permit himself to fall for Allison Wakefield, beguiling though she was. Well, not all the time, he reminded himself, as when she wouldn’t acknowledge common decency on his part. He had a recurring thought that Allison hadn’t known much tenderness, at least not from a man, and that she didn’t expect it. She bet on her intelligence, her competence as a journalist as a source of status, and didn’t count on her womanliness. Fine when she was working; that was as it should be. But, hell! She wasn’t prepared to let him enjoy being a man with her, not even when she softened up. He pushed strands of hair out of his face, thinking back to those moments when she’d walked with him from the restaurant on Forty-ninth Street to Rockefeller Center, sparkling with joy and gaiety.

“I don’t believe her, and one day she’ll prove me right,” he muttered to himself as the phone rang and interrupted his musings.

“Covington.”

“How are you, son?”

His antenna shot up; why was his mother calling him? “What is it, Mom?”

“Nothing to worry about. The department wanted to know where you are, because they’ve left messages at your hotel that you didn’t answer, and they’d like you to call them soon as you can. You’re not going back to that, are you, son? It was so dangerous.”

“I don’t do undercover work any longer, Mom, but I’m on a leave of absence, and the chief may call me whenever he needs me. I’m a policy analyst now. Remember? Stop worrying.”

“Yes, but you made a lot of enemies in that other job, so you be careful. I’ll be praying for you.”

“Thanks. I’ll try to get down to see you soon. Unless plans change, I should be back in Washington Thursday night.” Just what he needed, another break in his book tour. He dialed the special code number.

“I’ll check back with you later today,” the chief said in response to his question. “Be prepared to spend a couple of days here, briefing a new man.”

“I hear you.” He hung up. With each day that passed, his lifestyle bore more heavily on him, and he became more certain that he wanted a normal life. He had quit the spy business, but he still didn’t own his time.

* * *

Allison hurried down to the hotel’s breakfast room the next morning, hoping to enjoy her coffee at her leisure. She glanced over her notes, searched her mind for any small thing she might have missed, and shook her head in bemusement. Not one sensational thing about Jacob Covington had she uncovered, at least not anything to which she’d sign her name. His raw sexuality wasn’t material for her report. The man’s skill at revealing only what he wanted known was unequaled by any other person she had interviewed. Her sigh of resignation prompted her to consider the implications of her interest in Jake. If she’d already let his sizzling masculinity put dust in her eyes and cotton in her ears, Lord help her professionalism. She had definitely better watch it.

“Hi.”

Her head came up sharply at the sound of his voice. “Hi. You’re early this morning.”

He grinned as if he knew that was one way of disconcerting her. “My antenna said you’d be down here, so I got here as early as possible.” He unzipped his briefcase and handed her a sheet of paper. “Here’s the day’s schedule.”

He had turned off his cell phone to avoid answering it in Allison’s presence, but when he opened his briefcase and saw the flashing red light, he figured his plans were about to change.

He pasted a grin on his face. “Excuse me a second,” he said and headed for the men’s room.

“Tonight?” he asked his chief.

“Yeah. Get here by two this afternoon. Our man is flying out from Ronald Reagan on Delta 4113 at five this afternoon, and I’d like him to have a couple of hours with you. He’ll meet you in the men’s room.”

“Right. I’ll be there.”

He ambled back to Allison, let a frown on his face give her the impression that he’d had a sudden reminder of something important. He’d use any ruse to allay her suspicions about the interruptions in his tour. His work with State was top secret, and the department took every means possible to ensure that he didn’t fall into the clutches of terrorists or kidnappers.

“This is terrible,” he said and meant it. “I have an appointment in Washington this afternoon.” He ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “I’m beginning to wonder if I need a social secretary; it wouldn’t do to—”

“What about your publicist?”

“Not the same thing. I’d like to take the one o’clock shuttle to Washington. Can you make that?”

She rolled her tongue around in her right cheek, and he wondered about her thoughts. A woman with her smarts and experience as a journalist had to question the sudden changes in his schedule.

“I can make it,” she said at last, “but won’t these interruptions prolong this tour?”

Her mind was at work all right, and he’d bet she hadn’t voiced her true thoughts. Quickly, he finessed the situation. “You’re probably right. See you down here at eleven, bags in hand.”

* * *

Jake put his briefcase in the plane’s overhead compartment and extended his hand for Allison’s. She spent a few seconds, evidently making up her mind, before handing him her briefcase. He took the aisle seat and got as comfortable as a man of his height could in a business-class airplane seat.

“What would you do if I held your hand?” he asked her and primed himself for a reprimand. It suited him best to get straight to the point. Besides, he liked to let a woman know what he thought of her and where she stood with him.

She glanced at him, then looked away. “I don’t know.”

So she had her own moments of truth, did she? What could he lose? He folded her left hand in his right one, and when she failed to protest, his heart took off, racing like a thoroughbred out of control. Spooked. He told himself to cool it, that it was nothing, that she was testing him. But he didn’t believe the lie. Unaccustomed to tripping around an issue, he gave life to his thoughts.

“You mean something to me, Allison. You could be important to me. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but—”

She interrupted him, her voice suggesting that she was afraid to hear more. “But in the end, we’ll go our separate ways. More’s the pity, because I have a feeling that you’re an exceptional man.”

Her fingers tightened around his, and she leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. He stared down at her full, luscious mouth and sucked in his breath as frissons of heat rode roughshod over his nerves. Needing more than he’d probably ever get, he let his thumb graze over the tip of hers, rubbing gently and rhythmically until his action stunned him. He glanced down at her face—peaceful, seemingly unruffled—and wondered if she recognized the symbolism of what he’d just done. If she did, she had to be the world’s best actress.

* * *

Allison locked her lips together and squeezed her eyes tight. She didn’t dare utter a word, and nothing could have made her look at him, open and vulnerable to him as she was, for she knew what he’d see. His callused thumb staked a claim on her, its rhythmic friction filling her head with dreams and her body with desire. Yet she didn’t stop him and didn’t want him to cease. She hadn’t cried in five years, but if he kept up that...

His voice penetrated the haze of her thoughts. “Are you asleep?”

She shook her head, not trusting the voice that would surely betray her.

“Then I’d like to be inside your head. You haven’t moved a muscle in the last fifteen minutes.”

Her eyes flew open as if of their own will, and shivers beset her as she gazed up into his face and read his thoughts and feelings. Open and unsheltered. Eyes stormy and fierce with desire. “You... You’ve been looking at me?”

He released a long, heavy breath and plowed his left hand through his hair. “How could I not? Nothing and no one else in this plane attracts me.”

“Jake—”

He held up his free hand. “I know, I know. We must be circumspect. Heaven forbid we should admit to feeling anything.”

The wheels dropped and the changed sound of the engine told him that they would soon land. He smiled his pleasure and squeezed her fingers. “I don’t know when I’ll wash this hand again.” His left eye winked at her. “Must have magic powers. It’s been snug in yours for the last forty minutes, and I enjoyed it.”

She looked straight ahead. “Me, too,” she said and meant it. She figured she’d knocked him off balance, but hadn’t he done that to her? “What time are we meeting Monday morning?”

The plane taxied to a stop, and he stood and retrieved their briefcases. “Same time. Same spot.” He stared down at her, his gaze boring into her until she looked away. How could he, with just a look, tie up her insides and invade her soul?

“Stay out of mischief, Allison.” His voice, choppy and hoarse, lacked its usual sonority.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” she replied, groping for emotional balance.

After staring at her until someone behind them yelled “Let’s go,” he turned and headed for the exit.

* * *

Just before he stepped into the terminal, he glanced over his shoulder, saw that Allison was preoccupied assisting another passenger, and ducked into the men’s room. He didn’t feel right about slipping away from her without saying goodbye, and especially not after the warmth they’d just shared. But he had a job to do, and he meant to make it up to her if she let him.

They had been back on the tour for two days. His cell phone rang as he headed for the shower that Wednesday morning, and he dreaded answering it. Allison hadn’t treated the slip he gave her in the airport the previous weekend with anything approaching generosity, and if he had to abandon the tour again so soon, she’d ask some questions. And she’d be entitled to answers.

He pushed the button. “Hello.”

“We’ve got word that an unknown operator placed an order for a mother lode of dynamite. We don’t want it delivered. I hope you can come up with a plan. I need it, pronto.”

Jake leaned forward and rested his chin in his palm. This was not what he wanted to hear. “I’m in the midst of a tour.” He wondered why he’d bothered to voice it since the chief knew that. First the department, and now the agency knew his every move, maybe his thoughts, too.

“We know, but this requires priority.”

He canceled his Thursday morning interview and telephoned Allison. “I’ve postponed my remaining interviews for this week and tomorrow’s twelve o’clock book signing because I have to get back to Washington tomorrow night. Unless I let you know otherwise, I should be going to Boston Monday morning as planned.”

“Didn’t the same thing happen last week when you suddenly remembered you had an appointment? I’d give a lot to know why your schedule is uncertain all of a sudden.”

“And you’d pay too dearly, because there’s no mystery involved. I hope I haven’t spoiled your plans, but I’m learning that a six-week book-signing tour can be filled with glitches, changes, and disappointments. You’d better get used to it.”

Dissatisfied with the idea of sitting in his old office trying to put together a plan to foil delivery of a load of explosives, Jake phoned the chief. “Give me the particulars, and I’ll find a quiet place somewhere and work it out. This is a tough one.”

“What sort of place?”

He could tell from the chief’s tone of voice that the idea didn’t please him. “Someplace where I can swim, fish, and get fresh air. Idlewild, for example.”

“I’ll check out the place and get back to you in a few minutes.”

Jake knew his boss would do everything possible to accommodate him. Putting together that kind of foolproof plan would challenge the most shrewd intellect, and although he considered himself sensitive to criminal behavior, guessing a man’s moves could backfire. He needed a clear head.

“No problem,” the chief said when Jake answered his cell phone. “Get it to me as quickly as you can.”

Jake didn’t bother to tell Allison he had changed his destination; time enough for that Monday morning.

Jake phoned Morton’s Hotel in Idlewild and booked a flight to Reed City. Six hours later, he stood in an anteroom off the hotel’s lobby selecting a fishing rod.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” the woman said as she approached his spot carrying a rod, a reel, and a tin box in which he assumed she stored bait or lures.

“I don’t suppose you have,” he answered, hoping to discourage conversation.

“Staying long?” She threw out her line, and he knew he was watching an expert. Few occasional fishermen could cast with such deftness.

“A couple of days.”

“Not very talkative, are you?”

“I’ve yet to catch a fish when I was talking,” he said, standing in order to cast farther from shore.

“Hmmm. Where you from?”

If the woman hadn’t been at least seventy, he might have answered sharply. He told her part of the truth.

“I just came in from New York.”

Within five minutes, the woman reeled in two pikes. “Well, I’ve got plenty for supper and some to freeze for winter. Stay as long as you like.”

He told her goodbye and left after pulling in a bass, which he presented to the hotel’s cook.

* * *

“It must be
him,
” Allison heard her aunt Frances say when she answered the phone that Friday night. “Who else could it be? When he stood up, he nearly knocked my eighty-year-old eyeballs out.
And he had on his clothes.
That one was a real looker. Just didn’t talk much. Closemouthed as a kid in a dentist’s office. Child, if he’s the one—”

“I’d better start spending my weekends up there instead of down here in Washington, D.C., where you see ten women for every man, and most of those are ineligible.”

A lecture was coming, and she’d brought it on herself with her thoughtless comment. Her aunt did not disappoint her.

“The older you get, the fewer men there are, Allison, and the city you’re in hasn’t got a thing to do with it. When you’re twenty, everybody your age is single; when you’re forty, you’re already sifting through has-beens and never-would-have-beens. At age fifty, you’re dreaming. So you watch out.”