Summer Magic (2 page)

"Thanks, Michael...but that won't be necessary.
 
I'll go."
 
Already she was digging through her purse in search of her wallet and cell phone.
 
"Besides, I promised Doc Largent I'd call just as soon as I got in.
 
Why don't you wait right here.
 
I'll be back in a jiff."

 
He gave a forced shrug, sensing she needed some space.
 
If Lisa was anything like his sisters, he knew a guy had to tread cautiously.
 
"Take your time."

As Michael leaned against a wall that separated the corridor from a small arcade, he watched Lisa's retreating form.
 
Man alive!
 
She was still as sexy as he'd remembered.
More appealing than ever.

He exhaled slowly, folding his arms across his chest, allowing the tension to ease.
 
Keep your cool, Figaro,
he told himself.
 
It won't work.
 
She's a townie, an outsider. She won't last long.
 
Don't forget the other two vet assistants got washed up in no time.
 
Without a doubt, Lisa's just as naive--maybe even worse.

The high-pitched electronic sounds of the video games punctuated his thoughts.
 
Why had he agreed to come?
 
Maybe, instead, he should've stuck to his promise to Claudette and found someone else to meet Lisa.
 
His twin sister had begged him to drive Rita, one of the show girls, to the outskirts of town.
 
Supposedly Rita needed to look up a long-lost relative.
 
A phony reason if he'd ever heard one.
 
Rita might be sharp, he thought, but she's not my style.
 
I wish Claudette would stop trying to play match-maker.

Lisa emerged again from the crowd, her cheeks slightly flushed.
 
"I caught Doc just as he was about ready to close up," she reported breathlessly.
 
"Now--" She sighed again. "Now I need to get the rest of my stuff in the luggage pick-up area."

He straightened.
 
"Which way?"

"Downstairs, I think.
 
At least that's what I overheard someone say."

"I suppose you've had a busy year with the circus," Lisa said politely in an attempt to keep the conversation light.

 
Our schedule can be grueling sometimes.
 
Two to three performances a day while we're on the road; catching up with maintenance and repairs when we hold over in winter quarters."
 
He darted
her a
cautious look.
 
"Actually, though, last year I wasn't around much."

"What do you mean?"

"I left for several months.
 
I decided I needed to test the waters on the outside."

"Your parents actually went along with that?"

"Yeah, they were cool.
 
Even though they both grew up in circus families, they told us--my sisters and I--they expected us to make up our own minds.
 
Do what we really wanted.
 
The Figaros have performed in the circus for over three generations, you know.
 
Years ago Mom and Pop came from Europe to America to join a small family circus.
 
A dog and pony show, as we say.
 
But their big break was when they were hired by Jessell and Stern."

"So where did you go?
 
What did you do?"

"The first job was on a fishing vessel off the Gulf of Alaska.
 
The second involved selling home health care equipment to clinics and rehab facilities."
 
They skirted a gift shop, a small deli, and a group of flight attendants talking and drinking coffee from disposable cups.

"And the jobs didn't work out?" she asked.

"The fishing job was seasonal, of course.
 
Though it offered some of the same adventure and danger that circus life does, I soon discovered it wasn't for me."
 
He smiled wanly.
 
"The sales job...well, what can I say?
 
The pay was good.
 
I was bringing in way above my quota.
 
But something just didn't click."
 
He turned, meeting her gaze, his eyes earnest.
 
"Maybe it was because I was beginning to discover the grass isn't always greener on the other side of the fence.
 
I was happiest with what I already had."

"You’re lucky, Michael,” Lisa said after a moment's contemplation.
 
"Some people never do realize that."
Charles, for instance.
 
Her thoughts darkened.
 
Two years ago, her fiancée Charles Bergman, a corporate lawyer in Manhattan had suddenly proclaimed he'd found someone else.
Someone more stunning.
 
Someone more successful.
 
Someone more than a mere veterinary assistant.

How had she managed to delude herself into believing his reputation as a womanizer would end?
  
Her pain--and their hasty break-up--had been almost unbearable.
 
After that, she vowed the price of a permanent commitment was simply too high.

They rounded a corner,
then
stepped onto the escalator that led to the luggage claim area.
 
Michael stood close behind.
 
Too close.
 
Her physical awareness of him disturbed her.

"And what about you?" she heard Michael ask.
 
"What have you been up to this past year?"

She shrugged.
 
"Working nine to five.
 
Getting engaged.
Getting
unengaged
."

"Unengaged?"

"Yes."
 
She balled her hands into fists, knowing she'd made a mistake mentioning it.
 
She wasn't ready to talk about Charles, especially with someone like Michael.
 
Yet it amazed her how quickly he'd already shared some personal details of his own life.

She managed a smile.
 
"But enough about that.
 
Tell me about your troupe, Michael.
 
I'd like to know everything."

"Well, all right."
 
He hesitated, slanting
her a
look. "We're called the Flying Figaros.
 
First there's Claudette, my twin.
 
Then there's Estelle, two years younger.
 
She's kind of petite and spunky, a lot like you," he added.
 
He broke into a grin and winked again.
 
"Uncle Rudy, my father's brother, works as our catcher.
 
He took over about five years ago after Pop fell from a tight rope, suffered a ruptured disc in his lower back and was forced to turn to animal training instead."

"So who replaced you while you were gone?" she asked, watching the floor below draw closer.

 
All the time, though, Claudette kept insisting that Bo wasn't working out--which I hate to admit, was probably true."
 
They stepped off the escalator.

"Why?" Lisa asked.
 
"Hadn't he been flying as long as you?"

"No.
 
Not quite.
 
But as far as Claudette was concerned, that was only part of the problem.
 
She never wanted me to leave in the first place.
 
Claudette was afraid the troupe's reputation would fall apart and all our years of hard work and practice would've been for nothing."

"I guess you couldn't blame her for that," Lisa said.

 
But you don't know my twin sister.
 
She can get a little unreasonable at times.
 
No matter what I do or say, she can’t seem to shake the notion I might decide to split again.
 
This time, permanently."

"I've always heard that circus families are close," Lisa said, casting him a side-long glance.

"Yes.
 
Claudette, Estelle, and I started flying when we were little kids.
 
Even though we have our ups and downs like all brothers and sisters do, we can't help but be tight."

Lisa envied him.
 
She and her brother, the only two children of alcoholic parents who'd spent the best part of their lives in and out of treatment centers, had been raised in a succession of foster homes.
 
All those years she'd always realized how tenuous and fragile her home life could be.
 
Her foster parents might decide the arrangement wasn't working out and send her away.
 
And even if they didn't, she would still have to eventually move on.
 
How Lisa longed for the security of a stable and loving family.

.

"Now for your bags," Michael said, leading the way toward the conveyor belt.
 
"One or two?
 
What do they look like?"

"Two.
 
Two big ones."
 
She rattled off a description as she clutched her claim ticket.
 
But as one unfamiliar piece of luggage after the next paraded by, a strange feeling rose in the pit of her stomach.
 
Her suitcases weren't there.

"I'm sorry, miss," the skycap said after she'd tipped him to investigate further.
 
"Apparently your luggage was rerouted on another flight."

"Great!"
 
She gulped as visions of her bags landing in some exotic foreign airport flashed by her.

"I checked at the desk for details," the man said. "There's another plane due in from LaGuardia in an hour, flight 801. If you'd like to wait, there's a good chance your bags will turn up then."

Lisa sent Michael a questioning look.

"Don't worry," he was quick to say.
 
"I've got plenty of time."

"Are you sure?
 
Don't you have a show to hurry back for?"

"Not today.
 
There's no matinee."

They passed the next hour at the airport deli, sipping sodas and munching on bagels and cream cheese.
 
But after the next flight arrived without her bags, she had no choice but to fill out a missing luggage form.

"I'll put down my brother's address in Jackson Hole and call him first chance I get," she said to Michael.
 
She heaved a sigh of frustration.
 
What was she going to do? Buying new clothes would put a sizable crimp in her budget, but she'd never admit that to Michael.
 
She'd learned at an early age to be as self-reliant as possible.

"You brought a few things in your carry-on?" Michael asked.

"Yes, thank goodness.
 
Enough for maybe a couple of days."

"If push comes to shove," Michael said, "and your luggage never does show, maybe Estelle or Claudette can loan you some of their clothes."
 
He turned for a brief moment, his eyes roving over her approvingly.
 
"I think you and Estelle are about the same size."

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary," she said, lifting her chin.
 
"I'll figure something out."

At last they were speeding away from the airport in Michael's green Ford pickup.
 
The subtle masculine scent of his after-shave tugged at her composure.
 
No, Lisa. Get a hold of yourself.
 
You joined the circus to try to forget what's happened.
 
You don't need another man to mess up your life.

"Estelle says to tell you that you're welcome to live with her in her trailer," Michael said.
 
"She's got plenty of room and would love the company.
 
The two of you should get along fine."

"I'd like that.
 
At least for a while."
 
She flashed him a smile.