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“I accept your apology.” All right, all right, he was a sucker for a pretty face, and other body parts. Once he’d given Candy the chance, she’d done a good job of making amends.
“You do?” She sounded shocked.
“I’m not an ogre.”
She stared at him wide-eyed as if seeing him for the first time in her life. When she realized what she was doing, she quickly closed her mouth and thrust out her arm, “Friends?”
He glared at her proffered hand and sighed, knowing full well she would take all wrong what he was about to say. “I don’t mean to offend you, Candy, but I don’t think there’s a snowball’s chance that you and I could ever be friends.”
The hurt look that bled into her eyes was painful for Carl to watch. Candy stiffened, withdrew her hand and blinked hard several times.
To his surprise, Carl experienced a curious pain all of his own. He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, but this way he was doing them both a service. In time she’d thank him.
* * *
Lesley let herself into her high-rise condo and left her briefcase and mail in her small office. Slipping out of her heels, she walked into her living room and literally slumped into her favorite chair. The drapes were open, offering her a sweeping view of the Chicago skyline.
Tossing back her head, she released a deep, pent-up sigh. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically.
Her plane was three hours late due to a runway accident at O’Hara. Two passenger planes had collided. There were said to be fatalities, but she couldn’t be sure. The airport itself was a madhouse with emergency vehicles, news reporters and camera crews.
Catching a taxi had been a nightmare.
All Lesley could think about was how pleased she was to be home. Although she loved her job, these business trips had long since lost their appeal. In the beginning they had been fun—even when she was required to fly—but lately, she dreaded every assignment thattookher out of town. Plopping her feet on the ottoman, she crossed her ankles and reached for the remote. She was much too keyed up to go to bed, so she might as well catch the ten o’clock news.
Her phone rang with an urgent discordant sound that broke into the silence like a buzz saw. Groaning, she was tempted to let the answering machine catch it. After four rings, her machine clicked on, but whoever had called, decided not to leave a message.
A half hour later, while Lesley stood in the shower, letting the pulsating spray revive her, she thought she heard the phone ring again.
When she’d finished, she wrapped herself in a thick terry-cloth robe and walked barefoot into her office to check for messages. The red light blinked at her urgently. But when she checked, all that was there was a series of irritating beeps.
Disgruntled, Lesley moved to her kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk. Leaning back against the kitchen counter, she folded one arm around her middle and stared across the condo.
A sadness settled over her. An empty kind of loneliness. A lump formed in her throat, making it grow thick with the need to cry. Although what she had to weep over, Lesley didn’t know. How anyone could be surrounded by such luxury and feel this miserable, she couldn’t figure out.
A loud peal from the phone startled her. She swallowed a couple of times to help loosen her throat before answering.
“Lesley, thank God.” Whoever was calling was deeply relieved.
She frowned. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was Zane on the other end of the line.
“I didn’t know what to think. The airlines refused to release the names of the deceased until family had been notified. I’ve pulled every string I know and couldn’t find out a thing.” He sounded frantic.
“Zane?”
“You’re home?”
Lesley nearly laughed at the absurdity of the question. “Of course I’m home.”
“You’re safe?”
“At the moment, I’m more concerned about you.”
“You weren’t injured?” The question was brutal with anger.
“In what?” she snapped back. The man was talking in riddles.
“The accident at O’Hara.”
