Smothering a sigh of frustration, Temple retrieved Craig's coffee cup. “I envy you, Scotty. Find me a man just like Steph, and I'll marry him on the spot.”
“Just like Steph?”
“Well.” She grinned. “With a few significant differences.”
Stowing his clipboard, Craig began final preparations. “Can't you two think of anything but marriage?”
“Giving you the creepy-crawlies?” Scotty laughed.
“Not me,” Temple said easily, aware Craig was as shy of matrimony as she had once been. “I wish I could find Mr. Marvelous.”
“You're looking at him, sweetheart.” Winking, Craig smiled at her and her pulse jumped erratically at the familiar gesture. It wasn't unusual for him to wink at her, but this morning it seemed somehow different.
“Maybe you're looking in the wrong places,” Craig mused aloud, studying a chart.
“You'd think I was looking under rocks, judging by the candidates I've been coming up with,” she said dryly. “Just tell me where to look, and I'll gladly check it out.”
“If I knew, I'd be looking there myself.” Putting away the chart, he smiled. “All okay. Ready to get these people to their destinations?”
Temple saluted, smiling. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Later, she did what she did best. She took care of her passengers, the part of her job she never tired of. Over the years, she'd formed numerous friendships with frequent fliers, keeping in touch by Christmas cards and an occasional letter.
“Nuts?
“Coffee, juice or soft drink?
“I'm sure you'll be at your gate on time.
“No, ma'am, it's perfectly safe to use the lavatory when the plane is banking.
“No, ma'am, really. You won't fall out.
“Magazine?
“Another aircraft? Yes, sir, I'm sure the captain is aware of its presence. Yes, I'll bring it to his attentionâjust in case.
“Just a noise, ma'am. No, I don't think anything's wrong with the engine. I can't identify the source, but it's nothing to be concerned about.”
The usual questions, usual answers, but important to the passengers.
Ten hours and seven touchdowns later, they landed back in Dallas. With the last passenger disembarked, the galley secured, magazines returned to their places, Temple picked up her shoulder bag and stuck her head into the pilots' compartment.
“Need anything?”
“Nope, just about ready to go,” Scotty said, reading off the last two items of the post-flight check.
Five minutes later, the three of them were striding toward the terminal.
“What's on for tonight, Scotty?” Craig asked.
“Quiet night at home.”
“How about you, Burney? Got a hot date?”
There it was again. A ting...a delicious little wave when he spoke to her.
“Not even a lukewarm one.”
“No date? Something wrong?”
“No, just tired.”
“Too many late nights,” he teased.
“Sure, just like yours.”
“Anyone game for breakfast in the morning before our flight?” Craig asked.
“Not me,” Scotty said. “On these hours, I can't eat before noon.”
“Temple?”
“Not me. That would mean getting up an hour earlier. Can't do it.”
Tempting, but keep your distance, Burney. Your libido is acting weird around him lately.
“Lazy?”
“Pathetically so.”
Touching his fingertip to the bill of his hat, Craig strode down the concourse, leaving Temple and Scotty behind.
Temple felt a niggling of regret as she watched him go. She would have liked nothing better than to have breakfast with him, but until she figured out what was going on with her, she couldn't chance it. Making a fool of herself with Craig was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Hey,” Scotty said. “Why don't you come over for dinner next week? Stephanie mentioned the other day that it's been a long time since you two have seen each other.”
Temple hesitated, knowing Scotty's penchant for fixing her up.
“Hey, do me a favor. Let me screw up my own life. I'm good at it.”
“Oh! I'm hurt.” Scotty's shoulders slumped and there was a basset hound look on his face. “I thought you liked my friends.”
“No, I like you and Steph as friends. I haven't yet met one of your fix-ups that I could stand.”
“Honest, Steph wants you to come to dinner,” he insisted. “How about it?”
“Are you sure Steph wants company for dinner in the middle of the week? How about I drop by for dessert?”
“No, she'll want you to come for dinner. How about it, kiddo?”
Why fight it, Temple? You're actively seeking Don Juan, remember? Work at this!
“All right,” she said finally. “It has been a long time since I've seen Steph and the kids. Let me know what time and what I can bring.”
“Will do.”
Temple watched Scotty stride toward a bank of telephones to let his wife know he'd landed safely. Steph would be waiting for the call. And who was waiting for her call? Nobody. Would there ever be someone? Was she ready for that? Yes. With the right guy.
Her gaze drifted back over the concourse, hoping to catch a glimpse of Craig, but he was already gone. What was this empty feeling?
Shrugging mentally, she waved at Ginny and headed for the parking lot.
Â
CRAIG HAD JUST WALKED into his apartment when the phone rang. Tired from the long day, he picked up the receiver, frowning when he heard Jeff Sharp's voice on the other end.
“Hi, Jeff, what's up?”
He listened, wincing inwardly.
“Boy, I'd like to help you out, butâ
“Yeah, she sounds nice, but Iâ
“What about Sam?
“Can't Suzy set her up with one of her friends?
“No, I had a busy weekend. I think I'll stay home and heat a TV dinner, relaxâ
“Sure, it can keep, butâ”
He drew a deep breath. First Scotty, and now Jeff. He was going to have to put his foot down.
“Well, if she's already bought the tickets. What time?
“Yes, it'd be a shame to let the tickets go to waste. Are you and Lynda going?
“Come on, Jeff. You want me to go, but you're not going?
“Okay, tell Gina I'll pick her up aroundâ” he glanced at his watch “âseven-thirty.”
Dropping the phone into its cradle, he shrugged out of his jacket.
Damn, he wished his friends would give it a rest! How many times did he have to tell them he'd find his own women.
An ice show?
Â
THE NIGHT STARTED OFF bad. Then it got worse.
Craig's heart wasn't in the impromptu date.
Two blocks away from the stadium, a petite brunette, Gina, checked her watch for the fifth time. “We're going to be late.”
“Not much. We'll be there by the start of the first act.” Craig smiled reassuringly. “Relax.”
The skaters were finishing their warm-ups as Craig directed Gina to their seats. Five minutes into the performance, the lights went out.
A communal groan signaled everyone's annoyance. Gina's was the loudest.
The announcer came on ten minutes later. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we apologize for our technical problems, but the main transformer has blown. I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do to salvage tonight's performanceâ”
The audience groaned again.
“Everyone will receive tickets for a rescheduled performance. Again, we apologize. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.”
“Can you believe this?” Gina fumed. “We fought traffic for an hour to get here and the performance is canceled?”
Craig was used to delays. He'd try to salvage the evening as best he could. “These things happen. Are you hungry? We could go to Nickerson's and have a piece of their lemon meringue pie.”
“I'm on a diet.”
“Then how about a cappuccino at Mansfield's?”
“If I drank a cappuccino at this hour, I'd be wired for the night,” she said, pouting. “I wanted to see the ice show.”
Everyone got to their feet and gathered their things, complaining lightly.
“I'll get in line for the tickets,” Craig said. “It'll take a few minutes, judging by the size of the crowd. Why don't you wait in the lobby?”
“This bums me. Really bums me.” She jerked at the handle of her purse that had somehow become entangled in her coat. “How can they do this? Do they think people have nothing better to do than come back for a performance another night? People made plans. Haven't they heard of repairmen? Can't they call a repairman?”
“I'll get in line,” he said. “It shouldn't take long.
Gina sighed sanctimoniously. “I might as well wait with you.”
Great, he thought. He'd been hoping for a break from her complaining.
The line moved too slowly for her.
She tapped her acrylic nails on her purse impatiently. “Listen, I'm going to the lobby and see what's taking so long.”
“That's not necessary,” he told her. “The line's moving. Let's just wait our turn.”
“It'll take all night if somebody doesn't do something.”
Clearly, she thought he should. Before he could stop her, Gina marched to the front of the line and pushed her way into the lobby.
Stepping out of line, Craig went to look for Gina.
“I'm telling you, Bozoâ”
She bad the manager cornered, tapping him in the middle of the chest with long, bloodred nails.
“We want a cash refund!”
“Ma'am, we're not allowed to do that,” the manager said.
“Yeah? Well, I don't intend to budge an inch until you give everyone their money back. I'll tie up the line all night if I have to! Refuse, Mr. Hotshot, and I'll call my attorney. Then we'll see how fast your policy changes!”
“Gina, please,” Craig said. “There's no need to make a scene.”
Suddenly, her finely chiseled profile reminded him of a ferret.
Just then, a man in the lineup called to another. “If that loudmouth broad gets her way, we'll all get our money back.”
Craig was appalled to realize the crowd was actually pulling for her.
“Ma'am, I'm sorry,” the manager said. “I'm authorized by the company to offer tickets for another performance only.”
Craig felt sorry for the guy. He looked like a trapped animal struggling to hold his ground against the ferret.
Gina turned up the volume. “You're trying to cheat us! How dare you try to cheat us this way! We came all the way downtown to see this performance and there isn't going to be one.” She pinned him with an evil ferret look. “You give us back our money, you hear? It's only fair that you return our money.”
She stepped closer.
“Ma'am.” The manager straightened a little. “I'm afraid that if you don't move on, I'll have to call security.”
Gina's upper lip curled with contempt. “You just try it, Bub.”
“Ma'amâ”
“You messed up. You inconvenienced us!” She turned to him. “Craig! Make him give us our money back, right now!”
“Look, sir,” Craig said, just wanting to get Gina out of there without creating more of a problem. “Is there any way you can return the money? If you can do that, we'll be on our way.”
“It's against policy,” the man repeated.
“I understand, but the lady is upsetâ”
The manager held his ground. “No money refunded. Just tickets. And you both have to leave. Immediately.”
“He can't talk to us like thatâ” Now Gina was beginning to sound as shrill as a hyena. “You can't talk to us like that. Who's your boss? Get him out here. I'll show you that you can't treat paying customers this way!”
The manager motioned for Craig and Gina to move on.
She was still yelling that they'd been cheated as Craig dragged her out of the auditorium. He was certain he'd spotted a Sparrow employee standing in line, witnessing the whole scene.