left only the obvious between them to fill the gap—a pregnant silence. But as they stared at one another, a totally unexpected jet of sensual awareness sparked between them, catching Cinda off guard. Her gaze met and truly held his. Strangers across a crowded room…or a stuck elevator…whatever. It was as if they were the only two people in the world. The moment got warm, heating up with that whole man/woman thing. That kiss-me-now-big-boy feeling.
Still staring at Trey Cooper, Cinda blinked. She could not believe this. Who’d have thought that in this ridiculous situation—and with me nine months pregnant—that now I’m going to feel a spark of connection, of attraction with some man?
“So,” Trey said a bit too loudly, breaking the spell between them, “what happened to your husband? Do you mind me asking?”
“No. I don’t mind.” Surprising her was the realization that she really didn’t. In fact, she realized now that she needed to tell him, a stranger, about Richard’s death, as well as the truth of how she felt about it—a truth she could hardly share with family and friends. “It was all really pretty stupid,” she began. “And I’m still mad at him. In fact, I may never forgive him. You see, Richard was trying to go around the world in a hot-air balloon. You know the type—bored multimillionaire adventurer. Almost a cliché nowadays, right?”
“Sure.”
He’d agreed with her, but his expression said he didn’t have a clue about what she was talking about. Different worlds, she supposed. “Well, anyway, he was ballooning and something happened to the equipment. The sick joke was he finally ran out of hot air. Ha-ha. So there he was over Tibet and going down fast.” Cinda paused and eyed Trey Cooper. “I know you’re not going to believe this next part. The falling balloon frightened a herd of yaks.”
“Yaks?” Trey looked at her as if she’d said something as absurd as, well, yaks. “Those big, hairy buffalo-looking things with the horns, right?”
Cinda nodded. “Right. So, anyway, the basket hit the ground, and—” She inhaled deeply for courage and then pushed out her words. “—Richard spilled out. The impact probably killed him, but the yaks stampeded and…trampled him, pretty much sealing the deal.”
Trey Cooper’s features contorted with disbelief and horror. “Damn.”
“Exactly. It was pretty bad all around.”
“I’m sure it was.” The man had not yet blinked. “That’s quite a story.”
“I know. And much stranger than fiction.”
“I hear you. Well, still, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. And I thank you for not laughing. Some people have.”
He shook his head. “Hey, I never laugh at death. My job revolves around the daily possibility of taking a permanent dirt nap—” His eyes rounded. “Oh, hell, excuse me. I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”
“And I was just teasing about throttling your husband, Mrs. Cavanaugh. I’m not the violent type.”
“Imagine my relief.” Glad to have her story out, Cinda smiled at him. “Would you call me Cinda, please? Every time you say Mrs. Cavanaugh, I think my mother-in-law is behind me. And I have enough trouble right now without that image.” Conjuring up Richard’s mother sent a pang of disloyalty through Cinda. She looked down and away, then up at Trey Cooper. “Look, about Richard. Please don’t think I didn’t care. I did. It’s just that I’m mad at him—as silly as that sounds—for being so careless with his life.”
“I can see how you would be.”
“You’re very kind. I keep telling myself I need to get over it. Richard has been gone awhile.” Trey Cooper raised his eyebrows as he glanced the way of her pregnant belly. Cinda got his drift. “Well, not a long while. Nine months.”
“Wow. That had to be tough…Cinda.”
“It was.” Something about the way he said her name sent a thrill rushing through her. He was so easy to talk to, so attentive and sympathetic that she almost forgot she was stuck in an elevator. “Richard was killed before I even realized I was pregnant, so obviously I never got to tell him.”
Trey Cooper’s expression morphed into the same one worn by people who are unwilling witnesses to a train wreck. “Cinda, does tabloid TV know about you? I swear, you keep this up and I’m going to be crying.”
Embarrassed, Cinda bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be burdening you with all this.” That was all she’d meant to say, but apparently today her psyche had a mind of its own. “Still, even if Richard had known about the baby, I don’t think it would have changed anything between us. We were separated. I think. I mean I’d left him, but he didn’t even realize it. Not for three days, anyway. But, oh well, that was our life.”
The poor man trapped in here with her, a captive audience, just stared at her, his features a mask of sympathy.
Cinda put a hand to her forehead. “There I go again. All this voluntary sharing of mine. Could I be more Tennessee Williams? More Blanche DuBois, depending on the kindness of strangers? You’d think this elevator car was named Desire, instead of Otis.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. All I want to know is what kind of idiot was Richard Cavanaugh not to have realized a woman like you wasn’t around anymore? To me, that would be like not noticing that the sun didn’t come up in the morning.”
He couldn’t be more wonderful. Sudden shyness, and a telling prick of tears, assailed Cinda. “Thank you. I needed that—especially in this condition.” She rubbed her rounded belly. Trey Cooper stared at her…warmly, openly. That awareness bug was flying around them again. Cinda quickly pointed to the phone he held in his hand. “Maybe now would be a good time to try that emergency number.”
“Right.” He put the receiver to his ear, listened, and then shook his head in apparent disbelief. “As long as you live, you are not going to believe this. The line is busy.”
“What?”
“I’m not lying. It’s busy.”
Cinda swallowed the rising panic in her throat. “Busy? How can it be busy? It’s the emergency phone for this elevator—and we’re the only ones in it.”
“Believe me, I’m aware of that. Maybe whatever knocked out the elevator, took out the phone, too. Add Edison to your list of inventors to hate right now.” He hung up the phone and then stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “Somewhere in here is a…aha, there it is.”
He pulled out a pocketknife and held it up for her inspection. “Never leave home without it.” He opened the knife and turned away from her to face the control panel.
This couldn’t be good. Cinda peeked around him to see what he might be doing. Dear God. He was un-screwing the metal facing plate over the buttons that marked each floor. She put a hand on his arm. “Trey, what are you doing?”
He spared her a glance. “Taking this panel off. Underneath, there should be miles of wiring. Maybe I can figure out which ones to hot-wire and get this elevator back on the fast track again.”
Cinda’s
