Bob sighed. “All business. Your reputation’s completely intact on that front.” He gave her a resigned grin. “How about a burger and fries?”
“Lead on.” Satisfied with the acceptance of her ground rules, Dar 24 Melissa Good put her hands behind her back and strolled after the sales executive, watching the stream of people crowding the street.
They walked down a set of shallow stairs and ended up in an outdoor café, small tables on a patio that faced Rockefeller Center.
Dar eyed the handwritten menu and chose a sandwich and French fries, giving Bob an agreeable nod when he suggested a bottle of wine to go with it. She let her eyes drift across the scene, taking in the noise and the lights and the people going by. Now they, she acknowledged frankly, were interesting, and very different from what she was used to in Miami. The voices around her were different as well, sharper and more staccato.
“Dar?”
Dar turned and graciously bestowed her attention on her host.
“Sorry, did you ask me something?”
They talked about business for a while as they munched their way through the very good sandwiches and half of the wine. Dar managed to relax a little, aware that the almost overwhelming intensity she’d felt from her co-worker the previous night was muted, and he was, to her surprise, on his very best behavior.
She remembered Alastair’s warning and wondered. Her hand shifted, swirling the sweet, heavy white wine in its glass, and she took a sip, enjoying the taste she seldom indulged in. “Did you see the presentation today?”
Bob laughed, leaning back and crossing an ankle over his knee.
“Definitely unconventional, I’ll give you that, Dar. Most of the time, I sleep through three-quarters of Al’s speeches. I know them by heart. We did this for the quarter, we were supposed to do that, we took this charge, made that bonus...” Bob swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Not like he comes in and says, well folks, this quarter we lost the farm, don’cha know.”
“Not if I can help it, no.” Dar smiled. “It’s my job to make sure he doesn’t ever have to.”
The sales exec nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true, and boy, does he rely on that,” he said. “You’re one key player.”
Dar shrugged. “I do what I have to do.”
He chuckled. “And God help any of us that get in your way. You’ve pinned my ears back a time or two.”
“Nothing personal.” Dar’s eyes twinkled slightly.
“Hmm.” Bob cleared his throat and changed the subject. “You definitely perked up the stockers, that’s for sure.” Her dinner companion let his eyes, finally, wander over her. “You’re much nicer to look at than Al is, and you know your stuff. Nice work with those offshore investors. They were trying to nail you.”
“I’ve faced a lot worse.” Dar paused as she felt a chill run down her back. It was the oddest feeling, and she just barely resisted the urge to look behind her. Abruptly, her stomach tightened, and she felt a knot Red Sky At Morning 25
form in her guts. What in the hell?
“Dar?” Bob caught the change and sat up. “You okay?”
No. Dar felt the blood drain from her face, and her heart started pounding. Was it the wine? She set the glass down. “Yeah, I’m all right...” Her throat went dry, and she felt a surge of anxiety almost make her start shivering. “I think.”
Bob put his glass down and reached over, touching her shoulder carefully. “You’re pretty pale. Maybe you should put your head down.”
“No.” Dar suddenly had the urge to be up and moving, an animal reflex fed by nervous energy that made her thighs twitch and tighten.
The fear now gripped her guts, and she was afraid she was going to throw up. “Listen, maybe I had something that didn’t agree with me...”
“I’ll get a cab.” Bob stood decisively and walked to the curb, snapping his fingers expertly. He motioned the waiter over with his other hand and handed him a bill, then walked back over to where Dar was just standing up. “Let’s go. I’ll get you back to the hotel.”
“It’s all right—” Dar started to protest.
“Lady, your well-being is important enough to make Alastair P.
McLean say the word ‘fuck’ to me,” the sales exec told her firmly. “You are going to let me get you back to your room, and I’ll call in a doctor if I have to.”
It would have almost been funny if Dar hadn’t felt like her insides were clawing their way up, eager to erupt from every body orifice she had. “Okay.” She let herself be bundled into the cab and concentrated on taking deep breaths, trying not to throw up.
KERRY HUNG ON to the seat arms, one hand jerking free to tighten the seatbelt she’d prudently left fastened across her lap. Josh sat beside her, gasping as the plane bucked in the air, his fingers white with the strain of clutching the leather cushions.
“Folks,” the captain’s voice sounded strained, but calm, “I know it’s pretty scary back there right now, but you all just hang on, and we’ll be through this in a bit. Storm front caught us by surprise tonight, so just hold on tight and keep calm.”
Okay. Kerry’s heart was hammering so hard, she could barely hear the man’s voice. Her entire body was tense with fear, and she closed her eyes as the plane dropped unexpectedly, making her weightless for long, long seconds. Then the sensation stopped abruptly, and the plane lurched, tipping on its side and shuddering.
She had to focus on something, so she chose the most vivid thing in her life, clamping her jaw down tight as she pictured her lover’s face, trying to let the image fill her mind’s eye and push out the horror all around her.
The shaking went on for a lifetime. She heard things fall in the galley and the flight attendants cursing, then soft, faint echoes of some 26 Melissa Good kind of alarm behind the closed door of the cockpit.
The fear was almost choking her.
And then it stopped.
The violent shaking settled to the odd bump, and the labored sound of the engines evened out, still sounding rough but no longer giving the plane-sickening surges of speed and slacking.
Slowly, Kerry opened one eye, then the other. Her dinner was chatting with her tonsils, and she hoped like crazy that no one was going to ask her to either think or speak until it decided if it was going to go any higher or not.
She looked out the window, and her heart almost stopped again.
They were between two layers of roiling gray clouds, ducking between shooting streaks of lightning, a moment’s peace between two slices of hell.
DAR THANKED BOB, reassured him for the tenth time that she’d be all right, then closed the hotel room door and escaped into the peaceful silence within.
It was dark in the room, and she only turned on one small light before she trudged across the carpet and collapsed on the bed, her body curling instinctively into a ball as she lay there trying to figure out what the hell had happened to her. For the moment, she was merely sick to her stomach and had a pounding tension headache. The frantic anxiety had faded, leaving only a knot in her gut that simply refused to loosen.
“What in the hell was that?” Dar spoke aloud, her voice slightly hoarse. “What’s wrong with me?” She was scared, she admitted to herself, vague snippets from popular magazine articles about anxiety attacks flashing into her memory. Stories about people who couldn’t even leave their houses. “No.” Dar let her eyes close and she rested, forcing herself to breathe slowly and calmly. “That is not what’s wrong with me. I won’t put up with that.”
After a few moments of simply lying there, she pushed herself upright and got to her feet, glancing at the clock as she did so.