Skygods (Hydraulic #2) (17 page)

“Good-bye, Caroline.” I hung up on her. Utterly childish, I know, but she had it coming. So I wasn’t keen to answer my phone now, given the last time I’d spoken with the woman.

But Caroline trumped me by leaving a voice mail. Seriously, who can ignore that little message icon on the display? I listened, bracing myself for the woman’s wrath…

“
Kaye, this is Caroline. I know you’re angry and not answering my calls, but hear me out—I’ve got an emergency on my hands. Please call me, ASAP.”

I groaned and dialed her number, praying this wasn’t a setup.

“Kaye,” she rushed, skipping over greetings. “Have you heard from Samuel today?”

My stomach flipped. “No. Why?”

“He’s gone AWOL on all his appearances, and even skipped a black tie reception last night.”

“What? Have you tried calling him?” Duh, Kaye.

“He’s not answering. I even stopped by his apartment around noon and he wasn’t there. This is just perfect! We’re supposed to fly to LA tomorrow morning.”

Skipping out on commitments without telling anyone? This wasn’t like him. I racked my brain, trying to think of where he could be. But fear gripped my mind and the only scenarios I came up with involved gruesome car accidents and hospitals.

“I don’t know what to say, Caroline. I don’t have a clue where he is.”

“If you hear from him, please,
please
call me. I won’t argue with you, I promise. I should have known better than to load his schedule, that something like this would happen. But understand, I push him, I’ve always pushed him to be better—that’s what I do. That’s what he
wants
me to do.” This was turning uncharacteristically confessional, for Caroline.

The call ended. I was stunned for a full minute, my cell phone dangling loosely in my fingers. Then full-fledged panic clamped down on my heart and I sprang to action.

First, I tried Samuel’s phone—no answer. In fact, it went straight to voice mail. I left a message begging him to call.

Next, I tried Alonso and Sofia. Not wanting to alarm them, I calmly asked if they’d heard from him at all this weekend. They hadn’t.

“Is everything all right, dear?” Sofia asked, worried.

“He’s just very busy, and I haven’t spoken with him in a couple of days.” There was no sense in upsetting them until I knew more. My mind calculated the last time I’d had contact with Samuel. He’d called Thursday night, and then a text message Friday. After that, nothing. Saturday…

Danita! She’d talked (well, fought) with Samuel for a long time Saturday afternoon. And that was supposedly right before he’d gone missing. My fingers fumbled over her number.

She answered. “Hey, Kaye, still glaring—?”

“Dani,” I interrupted. “Have you talked to Samuel since yesterday?”

A pause. “No, why?”

“Caroline called. He’s missing and neither one of us can get hold of him.” I filled her in on what I knew. “You’re the last one to have spoken with him, Danita.”

Another pause. And then incoherent grumbling. “
Mierda.
Has Caroline checked his apartment?”

“Yeah. Dani…” A lump swelled in my throat. I picked up the now cold mug of cocoa and chugged half of it. “How did he seem when you talked to him? Was he okay?”

“Honestly, he was freaking out. Kind of frantic.” She cursed again. “This is my fault. I should have left him alone, but I just couldn’t, could I? Angel’s right—I’m too pushy.”

I waved my hand, even though she couldn’t see it. “Focus, Dani. Why was he frantic? What did you say to him?”

Her voice cracked. “I can’t tell you. It’s not my place. Kaye, please understand—”

“Seriously?” I snapped at her, frustrated and frightened. “You surprise me, Danita Maria. You pretend to be blunt and honest, but you’re just as bad as Alonso and Sofia and Samuel, aren’t you?” My doorbell rang and I jumped, spilling my half-full mug of cocoa down the front of my hoodie. My quaking hands shuffled my cell phone and tried to catch cocoa as it dripped onto my wooden floor. “Dani! Please, just—”

I opened the door and froze.

There was the missing man himself, on my doorstep. He was haggard in a rumpled tuxedo jacket, his white shirt untucked, bowtie long gone. His eyes were bloodshot and baggy, as if he hadn’t slept all week. He looked like crap…and I’d never been happier to see his beautiful face in my life.

I dropped my phone and threw myself at him, sobbing with relief into his neck. “What on earth, Samuel? I was this close to calling the police!”

His hand smoothed over my hair, and he clung to me as if
I’d
been the one missing, not caring that cold cocoa soaked into his shirt. “I’m so very sorry, Kaye. I told you that you don’t need to worry about me.”

I slapped his shoulder out of anger and the simple need to touch him. “It’s hard not to worry when your agent and sister are freaking out because you’re missing. Lord, Samuel, is it too difficult to give someone a call and let them know you’re alive?”

He mumbled another apology. I vaguely heard Danita’s shouting from my phone. I picked it up.

“Aspen Kaye Trilby! If you don’t speak to me, I’m coming over right now!”

“It’s okay, Dani,” I said, my voice unsteady. “Samuel’s here. I’ll talk to you later, all right?” I ended the call to the sounds of her protests. My eyes swept over my erstwhile husband—he was this close to collapsing. Taking his hand, I pulled him into my living room and shoved him into my comfy chair, then plunked down next to him. Even when I tried to slide my hand away, he wouldn’t let go, so I left it where it was.

“Where have you been?”

“Airports. La Guardia last night, then Dallas for most of this morning. I’m afraid I let my cell phone die.”

“No luggage?” I asked.

He held up the corner of his chocolate-stained tuxedo shirt. “My trip was rather spur-of-the-moment. I was halfway to a Berkshire House reception for a big name author, and the mere thought of another champagne swilling party was revolting. So I headed for the airport, instead.”

I glanced heavenward. “There are easier ways to get out of cocktail parties, Samuel. You certainly scared Caroline—she was actually nice to me for once.”

“Again, I’m so sorry about that. I warned Caroline, but she didn’t take it seriously.”

I studied him hard. “This isn’t your way of sticking it to your publicist by creating a PR nightmare, is it? Running away without giving her warning?”

“You aren’t glad to see me. I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing and just tell me
why you’re here
.”

He stared at his polished dress shoes. “All week, I’ve been thinking about what you said, how you hate watching my back every time I leave. I hate having a long distance relationship with you too, Kaye. I didn’t like it in college and I don’t like it now, especially since I’ve already lost so much time with you. So I came up with a plan.” He took my hands and turned to me. “Please remember you can tell me no. This is just an idea, and you aren’t obligated to me in any way.”

“
Samuel
,” I growled, impatient.

“Sorry.” He brushed the pad of his thumb across my knuckles, then slid to the pulse point at my wrist. Mother of Tom, the man was an expert at disrupting my thought pattern. He winced, then breathed in.

“I want you to tour with me.”

“What?” My eyes widened. “Tour, as in, your publicity tour?”

“Hear me out. One of our struggles has been how little we know of each other’s lives after seven years. I’ve had all summer to see what your life is like now. But you still don’t know much about mine, other than what I’ve told you or what you’ve seen in the media, unfortunately. So here’s my proposal: I’d like you to travel with me until the movie premieres over the Thanksgiving holiday and get a taste of my life. Then, if you still want me, I’ll leave New York City and buy a house in Boulder.”

“You’ll move to Boulder permanently,” I repeated.

“Yes.”

A thrill shot through me. He’d move
home
. “Is this what you and Danita were arguing about yesterday? I swear she’s become as cryptic as you.”

He tried to crack a smile. “In a roundabout way,” he said cryptically (of course).

My fingers floated along the lapel of his tuxedo. I couldn’t believe he’d move home. “What about TrilbyJones? I can’t just pass my accounts off to Molly, and I certainly can’t take any more vacation time.”

He grinned rather smugly. “I’ve thought of this, too. Caroline’s firm can outsource to TrilbyJones. Some things need to change, and Caroline’s overworked as it is. They’ll hire you to keep the publicity tours manageable. Most of the events are already in place, so you’d just have to sit down with them to discuss which to cancel and which to keep. Then, you’ll accompany me to events and do your PR thing—coordinate with the event sponsor, make sure everything runs smoothly.”

I rolled my eyes at his description of my work—“PR thing.”

“Caroline’s agency is okay with your plan?” I listened to him as I scooted to the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel, dabbing at the cold cocoa dribbled down my shirt.

“I’ve already spoken with Caroline’s boss and he’s fine with it. Truthfully, I think he’s too nervous to lose the account to say otherwise.” Just as I thought, Samuel went over Caroline’s head. She’d be hopping mad.

“I’ll need a week off in November for the Longs Peak climb,” I warned. “That won’t be convenient for you.” I handed him the dish towel. Instead of fussing over his tux shirt, he knelt and wiped my wooden floor clean.

“You’re still planning to do that, even after your skydiving accident?” He frowned. “At least Molly and Cassady will be along to keep you from being reckless.”

I ignored that. “And my TrilbyJones clients? I can’t just ditch them.”

“Telecommute. Everyone does it.” Criminy, he had given this a lot of thought. “I can promise you, Kaye, landing this account will make it worth TrilbyJones’ time to take us on, even with the short notice.”

I began to fold. “When do you want me?”

He tossed the dish towel in my kitchen, then pulled me back to the chair with him. “As soon as possible.”

The low, seductive way he spoke it sent both tingles and warnings racing up my back. A part of me thought mixing business and romance wasn’t a good idea. After all, look what happened to Caroline and him. But then again, I wasn’t Caroline, and I’d loved Samuel long before I could even spell “Public Relations Nightmare.” Besides, this was only a temporary solution until his tours were over and he could finally,
finally
settle where he belonged—in the mountains.

So the tingles won a convincing argument over the warnings. Because, when it came down to it, I was hard-pressed to say no. City-hopping with Samuel? Spending every day with him? Getting a glimpse into the inner workings of his life? Yeah, couldn’t turn that one down.

“Okay. I know I’ll be in over my head, but what the heck. Just let me talk this over with Molly first before you confirm with your people, please. We might have to hire a temp before I can leave.”

He blinked. “Really? That’s it?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not an over-thinker like you.”

A toothy smile flooded his face. “I just thought I’d have to work a lot harder to convince you, pull out the fancy PowerPoint and graphs. Not that you should be worried,” he said quickly. “We’ll take very good care of you. Five-star hotels, sightseeing, and great exposure for TrilbyJones. You won’t regret this,” he added softly.

Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the five-star hotels and sightseeing. I just wanted to visit his New York apartment and see Fort Tryon Park. I told him as much.

“Don’t put on a show for me, Samuel.” My fingers toyed with his lapel again. “I’m in this for us, so I want to see the real you, not Mr. Perfect Sexy Man who is never frazzled. As mean as it sounds, I kind of enjoy knowing stress rattles you like everyone else.”

He pressed my fingers to his lips, ice blue eyes on mine. “I promise. Nothing but the real me, stress headaches and all.”

“Good.” I smiled, matching his gaze with a scorcher of my own. “Then you can be the one to call Caroline.”

Chapter 6

One Hundred Jump Wonder

A relatively new diver
who arrogantly believes they know everything
there is to know about skydiving,
and ends up breaking a femur
when the ground greets them too quickly.

Y
OU
A
RE
S
OPHISTICATED
.

You are fast-thinking and clever, and can easily keep pace with Hollywood’s publicity machines.

You can wear heels if you have to. No, you love to wear heels, and it shows. That’s right. Those Prada pumps tucked away in your carry-on will not terrify you or your wobbly feet, no! You will own their leather hides. Own the shoes…own the shoes…