IT WAS NOON ON THE dot when the plane, a little propeller
job that had flown so close to the ocean Meg could have
jumped without a parachute, landed on the island. The
view, of rocky cliffs, crystal clear blue waters, and
vegetation so green it almost hurt, had stolen her breath,
and she wondered if she'd ever get it back.
It didn't help that she was scared spitless. Not about the
plane; she loved puddle jumpers. He was, theoretically,
already here. Since her birthday, she'd hardly been able
to think of anything else. She was going to meet Alex
Rosten in the flesh. After an entire year of talking to
him online in private chats, they were going to be face-to-
face in, like, thirty seconds.
Meg waited until everyone else had cleared the aisle, and
then she got her travel bag from the overhead compartment.
Her body fairly quivered with tension. Although she was
trying to be very Zen about the whole experience, she was
failing miserably. She wanted to like him. She wanted to
be attracted to him. She wanted him to sweep her off her
feet.
Problem was, she also wanted not to like him so much, to
find him more a friend than a lover, and she needed to
keep her feet firmly on the ground.
For a woman whose biggest single risk up to this point was
going to UC Davis instead of UCLA, this little vacation
was monumental.
Her whole life had been swallowed by her work. Since her
father had died and left her his veterinary clinic in
Diamond Canyon, she'd been working six days a week. But
because she was always on call, time off was more a
concept than a reality. Her only personal time was when
she was online with Alex.
If they blew this, if the chemistry wasn't there, then
what? What would she do on those nights when by some
mysterious grace he was there when she was there, and they
talked until they both got stupid with tiredness? Until
they laughed at the most ridiculous things ever?
She needed Alex. Needed to find him on the other end of
the computer, needed the possibility that she'd find him.
She'd been so fiercely protective of their relationship
that they'd never even spoken on the phone. He'd asked,
she'd debated, but in the end it seemed safer just to keep
the status quo. Which this little trip shattered all to
hell.
"May I help you, Miss?"
She turned to the steward, sharp in his khakis, thick
eyebrows raised. "No, thanks. I've got it."
She pulled up the handle on her case and rolled it toward
the door. Would Alex be on the tarmac or inside? Would she
know him immediately, and he know her? And, oh, God, was
she supposed to kiss him? Hug? Shake hands?
Pushing her hair back behind her shoulders, she
straightened, took a deep breath and stepped onto the
portable steps.
Blinking in the tropical sunlight, she scanned the small
group of people standing in front of the terminal. The
heat hit her hard, not because it was so different from
the cold Los Angeles winter but because her fear and
anticipation had chilled her deeply. When she thought of
the things she'd told him in the late hours, the fantasies
she'd revealed in lurid detailโฆ It was hard to breathe as
her gaze went from one face to another.
He wasn't there. The impatient noises behind her sent her
forward. It was only eleven steps down, and not that far
to enter the terminal, but she had to consciously make her
legs move.
Maybe he'd chickened out. It was possible, right? She'd
hear her name over the loudspeaker, a message at the desk.
Not likely. He'd sent her an e-mail yesterday with his
flight information from Dulles. He'd sounded so excited.
Which wasn't fair. Shouldn't he be sweating this, too? He
probably figured in five days and four nights, he was
bound to get lucky, so why worry? What she didn't
understand was why she couldn't see things in exactly the
same way.
Going by his picture โ well, pictures โ he was a nice-
looking guy. Although the photo of him from the Washington
Post was too grainy to see him fully, when she'd Googled
him, she'd found others. Him with politicians, him getting
awards, him being important. He rarely smiled, but there'd
been this oneโฆ He was alone, leaning against a brick wall,
and he looked happy. She remembered finding that picture
and thinking about his smile. Such a good smile. Not to
mention his expressive eyes and his dark, thick hair. She
already knew the most important things about him โ that he
had a great sense of humor, and that he was really smart,
and kind. She should be filled with anticipation โ good
anticipation, not this sick dread.
If only she hadn't been quite so open. If only she hadn't
told him all of her secretsโฆ
HE SHOULD HAVE GONE outside. Alex ran a hand through his
hair as he paced underneath the huge circular clock above
the terminal doors. The plane had landed, and he knew she
was out there, so what was he doing in here?
He was behaving like an idiot, like a teenager. At thirty-
three, he'd had his share of blind dates, and he'd never
given them a second thought. They'd clicked or they
hadn't. No sweat. Of course, he'd never been in a
situation like this one.
He liked Meg more than anyone he'd met in a hell of a long
time, but it was all online, and that wasn't the truest
test. Not by a long shot.
His buddy Craig had met a woman online. Through Match.com.
They'd talked for three months. She'd lived in Brussels,
and Craig had liked her so much he'd paid for her to move
to D.C. It was a disaster.
She'd used him, lied, made up just about everything about
herself, except for her name.
If Meg had done the same thing, Alex was screwed in more
ways than one. Not just because they'd be in such close
proximity for five days, but because, despite his best
intentions, he had expectations. Which was always, always
a mistake.
Don't hope, you can't get hurt, right? Everyone's got
their own agenda, and the smiles and the handshakes don't
mean shit. He'd been in Washington a long time, and he'd
learned not to underestimate the depth of deception in the
human heart.
No, he wasn't going to think about D.C. He'd spent all day
wondering how the press was reacting to his latest column.
It was either going to be a scandal worthy of
congressional investigation, or a blip on the radar,
buried somewhere in the back pages. It was out of his
hands.
"This is ridiculous," he said, startling the woman next to
him. He gave her a smile, then stepped out to meet Meg.
And stopped.
Oh, Christ. She was perfect.
MEG BLINKED. It was him. She gripped the handle of her bag
as she stared. He was so much more than she'd pictured.
Taller. Darker hair. Brighter smile. And his eyes were
filled with a pleasure she could hardly comprehend.
"Wow."
"I'll say."
He laughed, and it did things to her insides. Then he took
the few steps needed to be close. Close enough to
touch. "Nice to meet you, Meg Becker."
She grinned. "Nice to meet you, too."
He looked at her. Really looked. First at her face, his
eyes crinkling in the bright sunlight, then slowly down
her body. He didn't pause, but he didn't rush.
She'd worn a pale green, sleeveless button-down blouse and
beige capris. Comfort was her goal, as the trip from L.A.
to Florida had been a long one, and then the hop to the
island, of course. She'd left her hair down, and it
occurred to her that she should have brushed it. Put on
fresh lip gloss. At least checked to make sure her makeup
hadn't smeared.
When Alex's gaze rose again, he didn't seem displeased.
Not if that incredible smile was any indication.
He had to be at least six feet tall. He was wearing a pair
of well-worn jeans and the softest looking shirt. The
sleeves were rolled up a couple of turns, showing the dark
hair, not too thick, on his arms. It wasn't buttoned all
the way up, either, so she could see the suggestion of
hair on his chest. It made her want to touch him. Feel if
his hair was as soft as the sleek cream shirt. If his
chest was as hard as she hoped. Altogether, he was kinda
built and surprisingly sexy.
She laughed. She wasn't even sure why, except, oh, God,
here she was on a tropical island with a man she was
seeing for the very first time and they'd been together
two seconds and already she wanted to plaster herself to
his chest.
Alex laughed, too. It was a great sound. Deep, rich. Quite
yummy. Lord, he had dimples. Not little teeny ones, but
long commas next to the smile lines bracketing his mouth.
"There's not a flight out until tomorrow," he said, "so
it's too late to turn back now."
"I don't want to turn back."
"Thank God. How about I take you to see the island?"
"Sounds great." She stepped closer to him, expecting him
to back up and lead her to her baggage, but he didn't
move. His eyes had softened, lost their humor but not
their spark, and the smile that had been there since he'd
opened the door drifted, leaving him with parted lips and
a look that told her that no one was going to be using
that loft, after all.
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