“I noticed.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me, Jake,” she said, her dark eyes meeting his. “I can fly commercial, but I’m nervous of planes, even with the guys.”
“What do they fly around in?” he wondered aloud.
“This ancient DC-3,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s well maintained and it gets us where we’re going, but I’m constantly amazed that it can get off the ground.”
“They need something newer,” he said.
She sighed. “I mentioned that. And they said that gear was far more important. They can borrow air transport if they need it. Gear, that’s another thing.” She grinned. “They even had a special suit made for me. I brought it home, along with the .45 auto they gave me.” She whistled. “My hands aren’t really big enough for a weapon that size, but I’m getting better with it.”
“A smaller caliber might be a better fit,” he ventured.
“It might be, but I like what I’ve got.” She didn’t tell him the real reason. A .45 could knock down a vicious target, something a lesser caliber couldn’t do. If she and the group were in a really dangerous situation—like the last time, when she’d been shot—it could mean the difference between life and death.
He cocked his head and smiled at the picture she made in her demure black cocktail dress, with her hair long and pretty around her shoulders.
“You really are a dish,” he mused gently.
She flushed. “Thanks.”
He studied his coffee instead of her. “You and Cort Grier—is it getting serious?”
She smiled and made a face at him. “Classified.”
He burst out laughing. “Okay, I’ll stop fishing. But if he ever goes to the back of the line, you have to keep me in mind.”
“You’re one of my best friends, you and Bart,” she said gently. “That will never change.”
He sipped coffee. “Okay,” he said finally. “But I’ll never give up hope.”
HEWALKEDHERback to her hotel. Even this late at night, the streets were full of people.
“I love Manhattan,” she said with a sigh. “It has to be the most beautiful big city in the world.”
“I’ve always thought so,” he agreed.
“The lights are...are...” She stopped dead, her eyes on a battery of tabloids in machines near the hotel. She was staring at the cover of one with shock.
Because there, in lurid color, was the man who’d seduced her so tenderly, who’d said he wanted a child with her, who’d stolen her heart.
Cort Grier was on the cover of the tabloid. The headline was shattering. “Texas millionaire and Hollywood starlet discuss wedded bliss.”
She looked up at Jake with sheer horror. She was almost shaking from the revelation.
He ground his teeth together.
“You knew,” she exclaimed.
He bit his lower lip.
“You knew,” she repeated, stopping under a streetlight as people filed by on their way to theaters or late dinners.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I knew. We sit on some of the same committees. I’ve known Cort for years.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, as tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
“I couldn’t. It was like playing dirty pool, to sell out a rival that way,” he added quietly. “I mentioned it to Bart. He said his cousin was sick of being hunted by women for what he had. He just wanted to be an ordinary cowboy for a while.”