to let it affect him, but he couldn’t get over the fact that she was here in South Florida. That she was happy to see him after everything that had happened. That she’d somehow managed to put all of it aside.
Seeing her reminded him of Rick. Made him remember the terrible night her husband had died. The night Drew Evans, big-shot search-and-rescue pilot, hadn’t been good enough to save his best friend.
Trying hard to shake off the haunting memories, Drew leaned against the fuselage and watched the last of the tourists disembark and head for the parking lot. Alison and her son had been the first ones out. She’d smiled at him, but he hadn’t smiled back. He hadn’t even acknowledged her.
Regret stabbed through him that he hadn’t even been able to bring himself to say goodbye. He knew that had been rude; he’d seen the hurt in her eyes. But he couldn’t help it. What the hell did she expect, for chrissake?
Drew had noticed them several times during the flight. The little boy’s face had been lit up like a Fourth of July sparkler as he’d looked out the window at the turquoise water and white strips of beach below. Drew had overheard him telling his mother how much he loved flying. If he couldn’t run and jump and play like all the other kids, at least he could fly. When the elderly man sitting next to them had asked Kevin why he couldn’t run and jump and play, Kevin told him it was because he couldn’t breathe right. Alison had clarified by telling the man Kevin had asthma.
Asthma.
For some reason, Drew couldn’t get that out of his head. He hadn’t realized the kid was sick. Hell of a break for a kid who’d already lost so much.
Muttering a curse under his breath, Drew gathered his paperwork, locked up the plane and headed toward his office a few yards away. He’d finish up his paperwork, then head home. He wasn’t going to let himself think about Alison Myers or her young son. He’d worked too damn hard to forget them.
But as Drew unlocked the office and slid behind his desk, the image of her face refused to leave him. She’d looked at him with the kind of respect he’d long since deserved. As if he was something he’d long since been. He remembered her scent so clearly, he could have sworn she was standing right there in the office with him. He remembered the feel of her hand in his when he’d helped her into the plane. Soft, like a flower petal. Damp with perspiration as if she’d been nervous. Her nails had been painted the color of a tropical flower. All of those things had made one hell of an impression, one he couldn’t seem to get out of his mind.
Putting his head in his hands, he rubbed his eyes, realized the headache was back. Sighing, he opened his eyes, found himself staring down at the roster where all passengers were required to sign in. As if of their own volition, his eyes sought her name. He read the address, realized she was living in a nice neighborhood about an hour to the north, not too far from the old airplane salvage yard.
He stared at her signature. Smooth and neat and pretty—just like her. He looked at where the little boy had very carefully printed his name. Next to it was a smiley face. The sight of it made Drew smile.
“Alison,” he muttered. “Why couldn’t you just stay away?”
His voice sounded strange in the silence of his office. For an instant Drew considered turning on the radio, just to drown out the internal dialogue in his head. But he knew music wouldn’t help. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew he was going to have to make things right with Alison. He couldn’t let things stand the way he left them. He might not want her around, but he didn’t want to destroy their friendship, either. Somehow, he would have to find a way to accomplish both of those things.
Shoving the paperwork into a manila folder, Drew stood and headed toward the door.
Drew sat in his truck for ten minutes, trying to muster the courage to get out and walk up to the front door. He’d rehearsed a number of different approaches a dozen times during the drive from Emerald Cove, and he still didn’t have the slightest idea what he was going to say to her. How was he supposed to act when he felt so damn responsible for her being a widow? As if nothing had ever happened? As if Rick weren’t dead and they could still have the same relationship they’d had four years ago? Why the hell did this have to be so difficult?
Glancing at his reflection in the visor, he frowned and cleared his throat. “Hey, Alison, I was in the neighborhood and was wondering if you and Kevin would like your own private tour tomorrow morning.”
Sighing, he scrubbed his hand over his face and tried again. “Hi, Alison. I couldn’t help but overhear Kevin talking about how much he liked planes. I thought maybe you two would like another tour tomorrow.”
Drew scowled at his reflection, disgusted. No matter what he said, it wasn’t going to be easy explaining why he was at her door when it was barely eight o’clock in the morning.
“Evans, you’re a freaking idiot,” he muttered.
The problem was, he realized, he didn’t trust his motives. Was he here because he owed it to Rick to treat his widow with the kindness and respect she deserved? Or did his motives have to do with something a hell of a lot more selfish?
Annoyed because he simply wasn’t sure, because his nerves were zinging with tension and the back of his neck was wet with sweat, he opened the truck door and got out. He told himself he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her. He denied the fact that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind last night. He denied even more vehemently that he’d dreamed of her. That the dreams had been anything but appropriate.
Muttering a curse under his breath, he started down the sidewalk toward the bungalow at a determined clip. The house was older and small with lush tropical landscaping and plenty of windows. Typical South Florida, he thought, trying to remember the last time he’d taken any pride in his own home, where the landscaping was overgrown, the hurricane shutters badly in need of paint.
He reached the porch and knocked on the door. Because his palms were damp, he wiped them on his jeans and did his best to look nonchalant. This was not a big deal, he reminded himself. Damn it, it wasn’t.
The door swung open a moment later. Drew looked down to see the little boy looking up at him. The big grin on his face revealed hit-or-miss teeth and a frothy milk mustache. He wore faded Spider-Man pajamas. His feet were bare and his hair was sticking up at the crown like a rooster’s tail.
Drew wasn’t used to being around kids and for an instant he didn’t know what to say. Of all the scenarios he could have faced this morning, this wasn’t one of them. “Hi,” he said after an interminable moment.
The little boy’s eyebrows went up. “Do Mommy and me get to take another plane ride?”
Drew shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Really?”
Drew glanced into the living room. “It might be a good idea to check with your mom first, though.”
“She’ll probably say no.”
“Why’s that?”
Kevin frowned down at his bare feet, looking dejected. “I burned my toast.”
“Oh.” Vaguely, Drew wondered
