May The Best Man Wed. Darlene Scalera

      Chapter Three

      Savannah didn’t see Cash the next day nor the next, but when she opened her office door on the third morning, she found him once more behind her desk. She didn’t even miss a step as she walked into the room and was thoroughly pleased with herself.

      She smiled cordially. “How’s George doing this morning?”

      The amusement increased on Cash’s face as if he enjoyed her. “Not bad.”

      She set her briefcase on the desktop, sat in the chair opposite. “Still worried about Velma’s knee, I imagine?”

      Cash nodded. “But his daughter is coming in from the west coast day after next for the operation. He’s happy about that.”

      Savannah arranged her hands in her lap. In the last two days since she’d seen Cash, she’d decided his sole aim was either to incense or entice. So realized, his efforts lost all power over her.

      “His daughter lives quite a ways away.” She could play.

      “California. Married not long ago. Nice fella. Lawyer. George’s other daughter works in Seattle, married three years. Her and her husband made a killing on an upstart dot-com company two years ago.”

      “I’ll bet George and Velma are campaigning like mad for grandchildren then.”

      Cash smiled, a smile not made for morning but for night and smoky music and the beat of something rare in the air.

      Savannah gave him a polite half smile she knew suffered in comparison. “A second bright and early morning meeting in the same week? You keep up this ambitious schedule, and you’re going to ruin your reputation.”

      “Or yours.”

      Her gaze stayed steady. “Do tell, Walker, what brings you out once more at this unusual hour?”

      “McCormick called me last night around 1:00 a.m.”

      She was grateful to be sitting down. A thousand urgent questions rose. She refolded her hands, waited for Cash to continue.

      “He’s at the lodge in Colorado.”

      She seized this small satisfaction. “When is he coming home?” She was thankful there was no shake in her voice.

      “He didn’t say.”

      “He didn’t say?” Still she kept her voice even, her gaze level. “What did he say?”

      “He’s conflicted.”

      “Conflicted?” Her voice sounded foreign, her world suddenly held together by precarious threads. She sat very still and stared at Cash, afraid to shift her gaze and set off an avalanche. The colors of his eyes tempered. He knew, she realized, had learned a long time ago—all is nothing but shifting sands, winds of fate. It had been the birth of his wild heart.

      She pressed her sweating palms against the smooth surface of her skirt as she stood. She moved to her briefcase upright on the desk and opened it. Cash watched her.

      She removed several files from the case and piled them on the desk. Plucking a pen from the silver cylinder on her desk, she set it before Cash. He looked at it curiously. She ripped a piece of paper from the notepad next to the pens and slid it toward him.

      “I’ll need directions to the lodge from the Denver airport.” She riffled through the papers in her briefcase, leaving those that could wait, removing those that would have to be brought with her. She would give her tapes, along with detailed instructions on what needed to be done for the wedding until she returned, to her mother and her assistant.

      Cash tapped a rhythm on the desk with the pen. “You’re going out to Colorado?”

      “I’ll fly out on the company plane, I hope by noon.” She slapped another folder onto the pile. “One, two, at the latest.” She glanced at the blank sheet of paper before Cash. “Just give me the lodge’s name. My secretary can get me the directions.”

      The beat of the pen stopped. “You know what you’re doing?”

      “Always.” She lied.

      Cash crumpled the paper in his fist. “I’ll drive you up to the lodge from Denver.”

      She looked at him across the wide desk. “Not necessary. I’m perfectly capable—”

      “That I don’t doubt, Slick, but the only reason I came back here is for my brother’s wedding and—”

      “There’ll be a wedding.”

      He nodded, agreeing although she suspected he was humoring her. “At that time, I’ll come back, put on a monkey suit and do the Macarena until there’s no more booze or pretty ladies left.”

      He stood, shot the crumpled paper into the wastebasket. “But until then there’s not much reason for me to be hanging around.”

      “Did you know he was in Colorado?” She doubted he’d tell her the truth, but she wasn’t convinced he would lie either.

      He stood so much taller than she and much too sexy a man for early morning. McCormick was her height, never giving her the need to toss her head as she did now, letting her hair sway, her throat lengthen.

      “I’m not the enemy, Slick.”

      He wasn’t an ally either. They both knew it.

      He went to the door. “Listen, I’ve already made plans to go back to Colorado today anyway. If you want to fly out together and I’ll drive you up the mountain from the airport, leave a message at the house with the flight’s time and where I should meet you.”

      “There’ll be a wedding,” she felt compelled to say one more time although he was already gone. She listened to the low murmur of his voice, the answering laughter of her receptionist, who for the first time in her career must have come in early. Savannah’s sense of a world upside-down increased.

      “There’ll be a wedding,” she muttered, returning to her reports. “So prepare to macaroni, Walker.”

      SAVANNAH COUNTED five rows back, neither too near the front of the cabin nor too far back. She took out several reports and her microcassette recorder from her briefcase before stowing it in the overhead compartment. As soon as she sat down, she buckled her seat belt, adjusting it around her hips, leaning forward to check for minimal slack. She straightened, rattled the seat back, then the ones to either side of her, making certain all were locked in position. Next she checked the latches by giving all the trays in front of her a firm tug. All appearing secure, she evened the pile of reports on her lap, clutched her recorder and bent her head to review the figures on the top printout.

      Cash plopped down in the seat next to her. His weight involuntarily swayed her toward him. His body was too big beside her in such narrow seats. Savannah focused on the report. Cash reached up to the overhead controls, flicked the lights on, off, twisted the air vents all the way open. The reports on Savannah’s lap fluttered.

      “Cash.” She slapped her palm on her papers as they prepared for liftoff.

      Her head came up. An air stream blasted her full in the face. She jerked back. She reached up and wrenched the air nozzle closed.

      “Fresh air. Very important when flying. Cabin air can be very drying. Plenty of liquids is good, too.” Cash reached toward the nozzle.

      Her hand clamped his wrist. “I’ll take my chances, thank you.” The strong beat of his pulse pressed against her fingertips. She let go. She looked pointedly around the empty cabin. “You do realize we’re the only passengers.”

      “Are you