Hardball (23 page)

Everything checked out, so Nate hooked up the tiny gas-powered pull-tractor that helped him ease the plane forward onto the tarmac. After locking up the hanger, he climbed in and slid across the passenger seat and into the pilot’s chair. Holly got in behind him, and he leaned across her—making sure he gave her a wicked grin as he brushed against her soft breasts—and pulled the door shut. He fired up the engine, did his final instrument check, and got clearance from ground control in the tower. Air traffic control promptly cleared them for takeoff, and they were airborne in barely more than ten minutes from engine start-up.

The airport weather forecast had called for sunny, clear skies all the way down, so Nate flew under visual flight rules. As soon as he switched on the Bonanza’s autopilot, he was able to gaze out toward the Atlantic. The calm ocean stretched endlessly to the eastern horizon. He tried to relax and get comfortable despite the cramped quarters that made it hard to move without bumping his injured shoulder.

Fortunately, Holly was a great distraction, peppering him with a steady stream of questions, both about the terrain below and the plane’s high-tech cockpit. He knew she was off the charts brainy—after all, she was a hot-shot surgeon—but he still was amazed at how quickly she grasped the principles of navigation and flight. He had a great time giving her a basic flying lesson, even letting her take over the controls for a few minutes. The pleasure on her beautiful face as he put her through her paces only confirmed his instincts that this trip had been a great idea.

As they flew through the approaching dusk and into the velvety soft night, Nate couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed a flight as much. Yeah, the weather was perfect, but it had everything to do with the smart, gorgeous and sweet woman sitting beside him. It felt so comfortable, so
right
it was almost scary.

Almost four hours to the minute from takeoff, they reached the approach control area for Craig Municipal Airport in north Jacksonville. They were vectored east of the big international airport and over the landmark Dames Point Bridge, the lights on its high suspension visible from miles out. Nate set up for final approach and got his landing clearance from ATC. Smoothly setting the Bonanza down on Runway 14, he applied the brakes and turned right onto the first taxiway. Three minutes later, he pulled up at the Craig Air Center and stopped in front of his rented hangar.

“Enjoy the ride?” he said as he shut down the engine and pulled off his headset.

“Enjoy it?” she enthused, taking off her own headset and tossing her gloriously messed-up auburn hair. “It was absolutely amazing. What a spectacular view. Flying commercial totally sucks in comparison.”

“You can’t beat Air Carter for service,” he said as he placed a hand on her sweet ass, helping her to hoist herself up out of the low seat. “Unless you have to pee, of course.”

Holly wrinkled her pretty nose at him as she climbed out down the wing and he followed. “So, where’s the limo you promised?”

“See the parking area over there?” He pointed to an asphalt lot at the side of Craig Air Center’s main building, maybe seventy yards from the hangar. “Can you make out the black Beamer? That’s ours.”

“You’re not telling me you leave a car parked here all the time?” Holly asked incredulously.

He laughed. “I use a company that rents high-end cars. They deliver them to the FBO terminal here. We just have to pick up the keys.”

Holly stared out the BMW’s tinted windows as some of the familiar sights of the Jacksonville area whizzed by, her mind still on the flight. She’d never really enjoyed flying before, but that had all changed today. She had felt transported to another world, floating free, able for a few hours to forget the stress and anxiety of the past few weeks. When the plane encountered some turbulence, dipping down or swerving sideways for a few moments, she’d been exhilarated, not frightened. It had felt like a little added thrill to the ride.

As wonderful as the view outside the tight confines of the cockpit had been, she’d found the view inside to be fantastic, too. While Nate had talked and joked much of the way down—even giving her a mini flying lesson—whenever it became necessary he had quickly taken care of business, focusing fully on the demands of flying the aircraft. His big hands moved confidently at the controls, working the onboard computer as if he did it every day for a living. Holly knew piloting an airplane was a complex and difficult skill to learn, especially for instrument-rated pilots. Maybe Nate hadn’t gone past high school, but his smarts and talents went a lot further than throwing a baseball.

While Nate had been busy with the computer or talking to air traffic control in lingo that was as foreign to her as her medical jargon was to him, Holly had unobtrusively studied his face. There was something about the way the evening sun slanted into the cockpit that lent a new aspect to his features, making him look older, more seasoned. She’d watched his gaze switch from one screen to the other, then out the glass to the front and to the sides, always monitoring the avionics, always looking out for other traffic in the vicinity. Sometimes his brow would furrow slightly, and there’d be a little twist to his mouth, as if he were thinking through a problem.

But then he’d turn toward her, his bronzed face and high cheekbones chiseled in the bath of the sun’s setting rays, the five-o’clock shadow increasingly evident on his strong jaw. Everything about him radiated a smooth control as he flew the plane with an easy, quiet confidence.

A few times, when he caught her gazing at him, he would reach out and lay his hand on her knee for just a moment. Every one of those touches, however brief, turned her on. In fact, everything about the flight turned her on. There was nothing like watching a big, strong man exercise his brain over his brawn, and Nate clearly had plenty of both. Holly was beginning to think there wasn’t anything the guy couldn’t do, and do well, if he set his mind to it.

By the time they landed, she could hardly wait to get to the condo so she could strip him naked and make love to him every way she knew how. Unfortunately, they got caught in heavy traffic that stalled them for almost half an hour, so it was after nine by the time they pulled through the gates of Sawgrass Resort and into the parking lot behind Nate’s townhouse.

As soon as they were inside, Nate gave her a quick tour. Holly had anticipated that the condo would be pretty great, given Nate’s luxury apartment in Philly, and it more than met her expectations. With three bedrooms, three bathrooms, decks on both the upper and lower levels overlooking the golf course, an ultramodern, granite kitchen with high-end appliances, it was a dream vacation getaway spot.

When they dumped their luggage into the master bedroom, Holly started to pull Nate gently toward the bed. To her surprise, he begged off. Though he gave her a deep, searing kiss that promised a lot more to come, he claimed he was out of his mind with hunger and had to eat right away. She couldn’t blame him, since her own stomach had been rumbling since before they touched down at the airport. When Nate suggested they head back down the road to a fish joint, she quickly agreed.

As they ate shrimp and scallops and drank wine, it became more and more obvious how much the long trip had affected Nate. Though he didn’t voice a single complaint, she could see the rigid set of his shoulders resulting from the obvious pain, and his face looked drawn and tired. He’d done all this for her, so she could leave her troubles behind for a few days. How could she not love him for it?

Love him?

Holly mentally jerked herself up short as the thought tumbled through her brain. She stared in bemusement at Nate’s handsome face as he paid the bill. Only now did she fully realize how resistant she’d been to that kind of deep emotion, since there seemed to be so many obstacles to a future together. But there it was, and she couldn’t deny the growing strength of her emotions any more. It threw her completely off balance, and she didn’t say a word when Nate escorted her from the restaurant.

“Everything okay, babe?” he asked after they were in the car. He cast her a worried glance. “You’re not still thinking about that asshole Arnold, are you? You promised me you’d forget about him for a few days.”

Arnold.
No, she wasn’t thinking about him at all at that moment. “I’m fine, Nate. Better than fine. But a little exhausted. It’s been a very long day,” she said, avoiding the truth.

What she really needed was time to think things through. Making love with Nate tonight—while her heart felt so open and vulnerable—might not be such a good idea after all. Too much had been happening these past few days, and she needed time for her feelings to settle. To figure out what was real, and what was reaction to the heightened emotions of the moment.

She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “I think we could both use a good night’s sleep, don’t you? I can tell that shoulder is hurting you, and what you need right now is rest, not wild monkey love.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” he started to object.

Holly cut him off. “Doctor’s orders, Mr. Carter.”

When he didn’t argue any further, she knew she was right. He needed sleep, and she needed…not distance, just something easy and gentle. Like resting quietly in his arms as she thought through these new, startling emotions.

Back at the condo, they both showered quickly. Nate got into bed first and fell asleep almost immediately. Holly slipped in behind him, carefully draping her arm around his waist. She pressed her forehead into the hard muscles of his back, and molded her body against him. His slow, rhythmic breathing and the soothing heat of his flesh calmed her more than any medication ever could.

And even though she could have sworn it would take forever for her mind to stop whirling, she slowly let all her worries drift away. She fell asleep, holding fast to the man she loved.

An insistent, annoying sound penetrated Holly’s sleep, dragging her into consciousness. When she snapped open her eyes, her still-groggy mind identified the jingling ring tone of her cell phone. The bright morning sun filtered through the partly open blinds and fell across the bed, warming her and Nate with narrow strips of heat.

She glanced at the digital clock. Nine-ten
.
“I don’t usually sleep in like this. I guess I was really beat.”

“Listen, Doctor, my partner tracked down Lance Arnold at the bar he works in outside Chester.”

“Good,” she said with cautious optimism. She looked down at Nate. He was sound asleep, but she didn’t want to take a chance on waking him. “Could you hold on a minute?”

“Sure.”

Naked, she padded across the room and slipped out the open door, closing it softly behind her. The house had already heated up with the morning sun, so she wasn’t cold. “Sorry. Go ahead, Detective.”

“I’ll fill you in on the conversation with Arnold in a minute. First, I wanted to let you know that we ran a background check on the guy before we went out there.”

Alarm bells sounded in Holly’s head. She didn’t think Rich would be telling her about a background check unless it had produced something relevant. Through the closed door, she heard Nate stir. She had to keep her voice low, or go downstairs, if necessary, because she wanted him to sleep until his healing body told him it was time to get up.

“It turns out our Lance has a record going back more than ten years,” Rich said. “From when he lived in Pittsburgh. Some nasty stuff there.”

Despite the warmth of the house, chills rippled across Holly’s exposed flesh. Rich must have dug up the report on the suspicious death of Arnold’s wife.

“His first conviction was for assault at age twenty,” Rich said. “He was drunk and punched a kid out at a party. Pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor, got two to twelve months, served six. Two years later, he went away for two years on a felony one, aggravated assault conviction after beating up his boss.”

Holly’s stomach twisted into a knot. “Jesus,” she whispered.

Rich made a sympathetic noise. “He got married shortly after he got out of jail, and within a year he was up on domestic abuse charges. There were multiple complaints from the wife, but no charges and no convictions. I guess she must have always backed off. That happens a lot. Battered wives having a change of heart. It makes us crazy, because too many of those women eventually end up dead.”

“He sure does, but I’m not finished,” Rich said with a snort. “After I saw his rap sheet, I decided to put in a call to one of the detectives who was listed in Arnold’s Pittsburgh file. A guy I’ve known for years. Well, it turns out Arnold’s wife committed suicide. Jumped off a bridge outside the city.”

“Yes, I know,” Holly said. “Her mother, Mrs. Crump, told me that. But she said she wasn’t convinced her daughter’s death was a suicide.”