Flirting with Disaster Part 26

"It is," she said. "I meant every word of that."

"I believe you." He paused. "Sera, if you knew at this moment that you would go through your entire life and never get pregnant, never have a child of your own, how would you feel?"

"I will have a child of my own."

"Answer the question."

"I suppose . . . I suppose I'd be devastated."

"Yes. Of course you would. Wanting something so close to your heart and knowing you'll never have it is h.e.l.l. You want to have children."

"Yes. Of course I do. Don't you?"

"Did I ever tell you that?"

She blinked with surprise. "Well, no, but I a.s.sumed-"

"You shouldn't have."

"Adam, you're hardly too old to have children."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"But you love children. I don't understand-"

"I know you don't. And I can't explain it to you. Just know that I'm way past being able to think about that."

She stared at him a long time, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "There's something else."

"Something else?"

"Something you're not telling me."

"I don't know what else there is to say."

"Plenty," she said softly. "I can see it in your eyes."

"It's getting late. I'm a sick man, remember? I need my rest."

"You've never told me about your wife."

Adam froze, stabbed by pain that was as raw and real as it had been three years ago. He turned away from Sera's sharp gaze, wis.h.i.+ng she'd stop probing into things that were best left alone.

"You never talk about her," Sera went on. "Who she was, how she died. I asked Lisa about her once, but she said I should talk to you. I suppose I should have long before now."

"Sera-"

"You and your wife never had children. Why not?"

Adam's pulse kicked hard, and in seconds his heart was racing. Looking down, he saw his hands had tightened into fists and he didn't even realize he'd done it. He consciously relaxed them, only to realize his palms were sweating.

"We almost did," he said quietly.

"I don't understand."

Just tell her, d.a.m.n it. After all this time can't you at least say it without falling apart? say it without falling apart?

"My wife died when she was seven months pregnant."

For several seconds, all Sera did was stare at him, her lips parted in a small, silent gasp. Then slowly she slid her hand to her throat, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh, Adam," she whispered. "I'm sorry. So sorry. I had no idea."

Her compa.s.sion only fueled his misery. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't stand to see the empathy on her face that reflected the pain in her heart.

"To lose both a wife and a child," she murmured. "The pain you must have felt . . . I can't even imagine. . . ."

"Please, Sera," he said. "Please don't. I can't take this."

He couldn't. He couldn't stand the flood of memories that came rus.h.i.+ng back to him, the incessant echoing of Ellen's voice inside his head, the overwhelming helplessness and despair that he knew he might never overcome. And he certainly couldn't deal with it in front of Sera.

"Please leave," he implored her, refusing to meet her eyes anymore. "Right now. Please. Please."

But still she sat there. After a moment, he felt her hand against his cheek. "Adam . . ."

He turned back to see a single tear coursing down her face. Her own burning desire to have a child was reflected in the pain she felt for him, and that only tormented him more.

She eased closer to him, so close that her long dark hair fell along his forearm. She rested her other hand against his thigh, but it wasn't until he felt her breath against his lips that he realized what she intended to do.

"Sera-"

"No," she whispered. "I have to. . . ."

She pressed her lips to his in a tender kiss, her other hand stroking his thigh in the faintest of caresses, as if she was driven to touch him and afraid of hurting him all at the same time. That gentle touch was enticing beyond measure. He knew he should be pulling away, but he'd wanted to kiss her for such a long time, a thousand times over, and he found himself leaning into her, tilting his head and closing his mouth over hers.

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong, but he hadn't kissed a woman in three long years, and the feeling overpowered him. But not just because he was kissing a woman. It was because he was kissing Sera, who was more special to him than anything else in his life. Pain still pounded at his head, but he didn't feel it. Memories circled the periphery of his mind but stayed at bay. His heart was still racing, but his despair had s.h.i.+fted to euphoria, his anxiety to exhilaration. For a few blessed moments, he felt nothing but Sera's kiss and the love she was pouring into him.

She finally leaned away from him, her beautiful brown eyes still glistening with tears. She backed away slowly and stood up, and he thought she was going to say good night and walk out of the room. Instead, she pulled down the covers on the other side of the bed.

She opened her robe and pushed it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She wore a long, filmy blue nightgown that seemed to s.h.i.+mmer in the dim lamplight, skimming along her hips and b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life, and he couldn't tear his gaze away.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She slid into bed beside him. "Sleeping with you."

"Sera . . ."

"I don't want to leave you." She paused, staring at him with a soft, plaintive expression that went straight to his heart. "Please tell me you want me to stay."

As she waited for his answer, all he could think about was how much he wanted her there, now and forever. He wanted her beside him all the days and nights of his life. That wasn't possible, could never be possible, but just for tonight he wanted to feel the warmth of her body next to his, smell her soft floral perfume, hear her gentle breathing.

And think about things that could never be.

"Yes," he whispered. "Stay."

She settled her head on the pillow beside him with a tender sigh, her hand finding his arm and stroking it softly. He closed his eyes, trying to commit the way he felt right now to memory-a memory he hoped would last a lifetime.

"Do you remember a time," Sera said softly, "when you first came to Santa Rios, when a woman who was in labor came to my house? She was single. She'd had no prenatal care at all and I thought she might be in premature labor, so I called you and asked you to come over. Do you remember her?"

He thought back. "Yes. I remember."

"She was so scared. She had no friends or relatives. She was crying. Screaming in pain. I couldn't calm her down. And then you arrived."

Sera s.h.i.+fted a little, tucking her arm beneath her pillow.

"You went into the room and sat down on the bed beside her. You took her hand and spoke to her in a voice that was so soft and compelling that she stopped crying. Then you brushed her hair away from her forehead, put your hand against her cheek and told her that you knew she was scared and you knew how much it hurt, but there was nothing to be afraid of because you were going to be there to help her through every minute of it. And then . . ." Sera slid her hand down and closed it over his, squeezing gently. "Then you took a tissue and wiped the tears off her face." She sighed softly. "That was the moment."

"The moment?"

"The moment I fell in love with you."

Adam felt a rush of longing so powerful he thought it might tear him apart. That she'd had those thoughts all this time astonished him. He knew just how much he was drawn to her, but he'd never imagined to what extent she'd felt the same about him.

"Someday soon you'll want to try again," Sera said. "You'll want to reach for the happiness you lost that day."

"No. That'll never happen. Please don't think it will."

"Time heals," she said. "The day will come when you're ready to love again, when you're ready to think about having another child." She paused. "I want to be there on that day."

He couldn't say anything. Nothing. Words simply wouldn't come. To want so badly what she'd described and know it could never be was the most painful thing on earth.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered.

If only she knew. If only she knew that closing his eyes brought dreams that haunted him, far from the sweet ones she'd wished for him. Loving him came with an even greater price than she realized, and he knew in his heart that it was one she would never want to pay.

The sun had barely crept over the horizon the next morning when Dave and Lisa took off in a single-engine six-pa.s.senger plane from Blue Diamond Aviation. Dave still wasn't the happiest small-plane pa.s.senger in the world, but this one was bigger than the last one they'd flown in, and he'd come to realize that Lisa knew precisely what she was doing. And it was definitely the best way to make it to and from Santa Rios in as little time as possible.

"d.a.m.n, it's cold in here," Lisa said. "I need to tell my boss to do something about this heater. Will you grab my jacket out of my bag?"

Dave handed her the jacket, and she slipped it on. The look fit her exactly-jeans, T-s.h.i.+rt, denim jacket, boots, a fresh, clean face devoid of makeup, and short reddish-blond hair going every which way, as if she had far better things to do than spend hours in front of a mirror. She sat with the confident bearing of a person who looked as if she was born to be in a pilot's seat.

Dave peered out the winds.h.i.+eld. "So what's the weather like between here and there?"

She smiled. "What's the matter, Dave? Still sweating the small-plane experience?"

He shrugged. "Just wondering."

"The weather." She tapped her finger against the yoke. "Well, let's see. I guess there is that torrential rainstorm over Brownsville. I suppose we ought to watch out for that."

He whipped around to face her. "You're flying into a rainstorm?"

"And I suppose we'll have to skirt that ma.s.sive electrical storm east of Monterrey."

"What?"

"Don't worry!" she said with a wave of her hand. "Those will seem like nothing once that category five hurricane swings north from the Yucatan Peninsula and smacks into Santa Rios."

Dave stared at her dumbly for a moment, then slowly closed his eyes, shaking his head. Once his heart rate returned to normal, he gave her a deadpan stare. "How about we just take a roundabout route over the Bermuda Triangle?"

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "You know, I've never flown through there before. Sounds like fun."

He wondered if there was anything about his profession that would rattle her her. A hundred-mile-an-hour police chase? Pulling a.s.sorted body parts from a ten-car pileup? Disarming a crack addict carrying an automatic weapon and enough ammo to start World War III? Drinking the coffee at the station house? Surely there was at least one thing that would get to her, and once he found out what it was he intended to find a way to terrorize her with it.

"Where did you learn to give your pa.s.sengers such a hard time? Do they teach you that in flight school?"

"G.o.d, no. When I took lessons, I had to toe the line. Behave myself. Speak when spoken to. Might as well have been in the military."

"Did you get your pilot's license in San Antonio?"

"Yeah. After Lenny was arrested, I managed to stay in his apartment through the rest of the month because it was paid up. I got a job at a crummy little diner. I hated that place, except for one thing."

"What's that?"

"It was right across the street from the airfield."

"Ah. Good planning."

"Good fortune. They were looking for a waitress. But you know, I worked my a.s.s off in that place. No matter how many times I had to smile when I didn't want to, dodge b.u.t.t pinches from dirty old men, and soak my feet at the end of a double s.h.i.+ft, still I did it. I was making a lot in tips, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I had the money for flying lessons. But they came in a way I didn't expect."

"How's that?"

"One day an older woman sat down at the counter. She had steel-gray hair. A body like a battering ram. And I could tell by the look on her face that she took no c.r.a.p from anyone. One of the other waitresses told me she was Marge Watkins, the owner of Blue Diamond Aviation. I remember going into the kitchen, thinking fast, trying to get my nerve up to talk to her before she walked out. Then I went back out to the counter."

"What did you say to her?"

"I asked her for a job."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah. Shocked the h.e.l.l out of her, I think, but she just stared at me, saying nothing. I told her quickly that I didn't care what I did there, as long as I was employed. She asked me why I wanted to work for her. I took a deep breath and told her that someday I wanted to learn how to fly."

"What did she say to that?"

"She just laid her fork down, sat back in her chair, folded her arms, and asked me what in the h.e.l.l made me think I could ever learn how to fly a plane."

Dave raised his eyebrows. "Wow. Tough old broad."

"Oh, yeah. And I was shaking like crazy, but I wasn't about to let her see that. I raised my chin, glared at her, and asked her what in the h.e.l.l made her think I couldn't."