Eden's Dream (10 page)

“So you admit you have discussed me,” Eden challenged.

He couldn't lie. There'd been enough lies between them. “Yes.”

“Why?” Eden's eyes flashed dangerously

“Gary knew that you and I were working together, trying to make sense of the crash. Unfortunately, he's one of these chauvinistic men who has a difficult time understanding that women and men can be friends.”

She fitted the red-framed glasses securely around her ears and stared at him. “And you believe that women and men can be friends?” She sounded skeptical.

He knew it was a loaded question and one that would require finesse to answer. If any other woman had asked him the same thing, the answer would have been a simple yes. He prefaced his response by saying, “In many cases, yes.”

“In our case?” she stared at him.

Clearing his throat, he said softly, “That depends.”

Refusing to look him in the eye, she intentionally shifted the conversation, picked up a manila envelope from the table, and waved it at him. “They want me back at work.”

“When?”

“Probably within the next two weeks.”

“We'll have to work quickly then.”

Agitated, her fingers drummed the table. “What makes you believe that I still want to work with you?”

He moved in closer. She stepped back. “Why would you let one person's idiocy affect our mission? We have a mutual goal. And as I admitted to you earlier, I'm also a journalist. I've got lots of information at my fingertips.

Huge, cognac-colored eyes blinked at him behind trendy glasses. “How do I know I can trust you?”

Her words pierced his heart. She was right, yet so wrong. Hoping to convince her of his sincerity, he reached for her shoulders. She moved away, leaving his hands to dangle awkwardly at his sides. “You'll need to trust someone eventually if you're to uncover the truth.” Before she could frame a rebuttal, he changed the topic. “What about that cooler you mentioned earlier? Any idea what it contained?”

She nodded. “It held a human organ, a liver or kidney, I'm not sure. It was scheduled for transplant.”

Noel made a wry face. “The poor soul never got his transplant then.”

The morbid comment elicited a tentative smile. “Not that time around.” Gallows humor.

“You wouldn't by chance know what hospital it was going to?”

“I don't believe that was ever mentioned.”

“Any idea how we can find out?”

Eden thought for a moment. “I'll have to call Lori.”

“Can you do that first thing tomorrow?”

Hands on her hips she stood facing him. “You're obsessed.”

He desperately wanted to touch her cheek and reached over. She flinched, leaving his fingers stroking air. “Call it a hunch, intuition, whatever. I just have the feeling that the box—carton—whatever it was, is in some way linked to the crash.”

An impish smile surfaced, giving him reason to hope they could again be friends. “Does that mean you no longer think Rod's responsible?”

His thumb itched to outline her jaw, stroke those luscious lips. “I didn't say that.”

The laughter left her eyes, and she practically spat the words at him. “I can't wait to prove you wrong, then.”

O
ver the anguished
cries of passengers, Eden heard the staccato noise of sputtering engines. The plane plunged several feet, and a tangle of oxygen masks dislodged. The people around her screamed. The woman in front of her sobbed, her gnarled hand struggling to make the sign of the cross. Other passengers remained frozen in position, unwilling or unable to pull the cords, bring oxygen to their noses and mouths. To breathe. They'd given up hope, convinced they were already doomed.

Eden searched the cabin looking for a flight attendant. Wisps of smoke lent a surreal effect to the scene around her. She could smell burnt rubber and God knew what else. Through the haze, she spotted Rod, wearing an oxygen mask and carrying an oversize package. Good, he'd come to save her. As he floated in her direction, panic became a tangible thing. Passengers scrambled upright, fighting one another for the coiled tubing. The yellow oxygen masks seemed to take on lives of their own, and in a bizarre dance, gyrated out of reach, taunting the passengers to come and get them.

Rod's steps slowed next to her seat. Eden felt an immediate sense of relief. If anyone, he would know what to do about the rapid decompression and the crazy nightmare she'd been thrown into. She waited to hear the calming sound of his voice, see the reassuring smile that made her feel safe. Instead, grim-faced he handed over the package. She accepted silently, looking up, waiting for an explanation. The person bending over her was no longer Rod. The man's eyes breathed fire. His open mouth was a gruesome abyss. Rod had metamorphosed into
Noel.

Heart thudding in her chest, it registered. She was on her own. Noel Robinson didn't know a thing about airplanes, or so he said. What's more he didn't care about any of them, especially her. Eden squeezed her eyes closed and listened as the box she held ticked loudly.
Oh God! It was a bomb.
A bomb could detonate at any moment. Eden let out a rip-roaring
scream.

A shrill sound reverberated in her ears as she forced her eyes open. The dream had been different this time, though exactly why eluded her. Recognizing the jingle of the phone, she groped for the receiver. “Hello.”

Silence.

Jolted into full wakefulness now, she felt the tremors begin. It had been a long time since she'd had a full-blown panic attack, but the memories lingered.
Breathe,
she admonished herself, sucking in huge mouthfuls of air and eventually steadying her voice enough to repeat, “Hello.”

A rustle of paper and the sound of labored breathing.

“Hello?”

The breathing on the other end quieted. A familiar, warbling voice slurred, “Woman, I'm watching your every move. Better not forget that.” Click, and the sound of a dial tone. Eden dropped the receiver.

Sitting up in bed, she hugged her shaking arms, pulled in huge lungful's of air, and exhaled slowly. Later today she would have her number changed. It was time. But what to do now? Don't think. Just move. Keep busy. Make coffee. What time was it anyway? She squinted at the clock on the end table, surprised at the obscene hour. Not yet half past five. Clenching her teeth to stop the chattering, she made a quick decision. She didn't want to be alone. Not if someone was out there watching her.

Rising abruptly, she threw on the comfortable baggy shorts she'd flung over a chair days ago, then scrambled to find a T-shirt and clean pair of socks. After shoving her feet into an abandoned pair of sneakers left in the middle of the floor, she nuked a cup of water and added instant coffee to it. She drank the contents in three quick gulps. Grabbing a hooded sweatshirt, she raced from the house.

As Noel exited the bathroom, he heard banging at his front door. He hobbled toward the sound, simultaneously stuffing his feet into running sneakers. Someone must want in badly.

“Eden,” he said, throwing the front door wide. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine,” she said, throwing him a wobbly smile. “I'm here to take you up on your offer.” Her hand made a wide arc pointing out his athletic gear. “I thought maybe you'd like company this morning.” He detected the tremor in her voice and wondered why.

“I'm delighted you'd consider joining me,” he said carefully. Then remembering last evening's smoking ashtray, and the previous disaster, added, “Are you sure you're up to it?”

Eden placed her hands on her hips, eyeballed him and smiled, though somewhat tightly. “Are you insinuating that I don't have the stamina?”

“I never said that.”

“The implication was clear.”

He bent over, tied the laces of his sneakers, and looked her dead in the eye. “Mind telling me what's really going on? You were pretty angry when I left last evening.”

Eden squirmed uncomfortably. He kept his eyes trained on her face.

“I've gotten over my annoyance with you,” she mumbled, not sounding as if she did. “How about a little wager?”

The desperation he sensed tugged at his heart. Noel smiled back, letting her off the hook. His gut told him that despite her bravado, something was obviously wrong. She wouldn't have forgiven him that easily. He pretended to think for a moment. “How about—if you don't complete the entire mile, you get to spend the day with me.”

“And if I do, what's in it for me?” Her tone held an edge to it. Underneath the surface cool was last night's angry woman.

Even as Noel's smile widened and he threw both hands in the air, he was determined to find out what had really brought her here. “I'm at your mercy then,” he said evenly. “You get to call the shots all day.”

A calculating look crossed her face. She tossed him another gut-wrenching smile. There would be hell to pay if she won the bet.

That smile almost brought him to his knees. He turned away to gather a towel and his composure. Eden Sommers this early in the morning had an unsettling effect on his libido. The woman oozed vulnerability. He sensed she was scared. One look into that heart-shaped face, those frightened cognac eyes, and he'd known something was wrong. Every male bone in his body longed to comfort her, draw her into his arms, and kiss away the terror registered on her face.

“Ready?” Noel eyed her shapely legs in the baggy black shorts. Men had been known to slay dragons for less appealing packages.

“Ready.”

They started off slowly and quickly picked up the pace. Eden hung in there beside him. Over the sound of sneakers slapping pavement he heard her labored breathing.

“You need me to slow down?” He tossed the question over his shoulder. “Want to take a break?”

“W–why? Do–you?” she puffed.

Noel shook his head. She'd begun to tire, but he was pretty sure she'd make it back. “We're almost there. Let's keep going.”

He rounded the home stretch, Eden at his heels. He could tell she was making a valiant effort to keep up and slowed his strides. Behind him he heard the sound of a vehicle accelerating. Instinctively he turned in time to see a white car barreling in their direction.

“Eden, look out,” he shouted. He got a quick glance at the first three letters on the license plate, then dove, pushing her out of the way.

Like human cannonballs, they rolled down the hilly embankment and landed in a muddy puddle. The car zoomed away leaving the occupant's raucous laughter in its wake. Rank water filled Noel's mouth and ears. Cursing softly, he spat out bilge water, and with some effort helped Eden to her feet. They'd come full stop in a gully. He wiped a smudge of mud from her nose and plucked at the twigs entangled in her hair. Despite her disheveled appearance, she had never looked more beautiful. At that moment he knew he would do anything to protect her. Even give her his heart and soul.

Rigid with anger, Noel hugged Eden to him. She was visibly shaken. “You okay, sweetheart?” He kissed the top of her head.

“M–my ank–le,” she stuttered, holding on to him.

For the first time he realized her gait was unsteady. He, in fact, supported most of her body weight.

“Let's get you home then.” He settled her against his body.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, admitting, “Noel, I'm scared.”

“Nothing to be scared about, baby.” He drew her even closer, swearing softly. “One way or the other, I'm going to get that sucker. And when I do, he'll be sorry he's alive.”

L
ater that day
, Eden lay on the couch, foot propped up on the same pillow Kahlua had claimed. Her ankle wasn't broken, thank God. Just a nasty twist. She put aside the pile of magazines Noel had bought her, and rubbed weary eyes. She didn't know what to think anymore. Noel had been gentle and thoughtful when he'd brought her home. He'd held her ankle in his hand, gently prodding, ascertaining that bones weren't broken. He'd practically spoon-fed her breakfast, lunch, too, as a matter of fact. Then he'd raced to the store, returning with Epsom salts for the swollen ankle, a pile of magazines, and a large bottle of ibuprofen. After making sure she was comfortable, he'd left, citing business, promising to return later that evening.

Eden massaged her pounding temples, refusing to give in to the headache that had surfaced. Noel, Noah, whatever his name was, gave off such confusing signals. She wanted to hate him, but couldn't. He'd come through for her when she needed him. What could he hope to gain from being so attentive, other than a good story? Mulling his motives over in her mind, she closed her eyes and eventually gave in to tiredness.

The jingling phone caused her to bolt upright again. It was a shrill reminder that she hadn't gotten around to changing her number. The foot still throbbed. She glanced at her watch, amazed she'd slept more than two hours, and with bated breath waited for the answering machine to pick up. Kahlua had disappeared.

A chirpy female voice announced, “Eden, if you're screening your calls, it's only me.”

Forgetting about her headache and throbbing ankle, she grabbed the receiver. “Lori, how are you?”

“Wonderful. Can't say the same about you, though. What's going on?”

They knew each other too well. She would never be able to fool Lori Goldmuntz. Eden told her about the last few days, omitting nothing and ending with her twisted ankle.

“You poor baby. Why would someone want to run you off the road?”

“I'm still trying to figure that out. Unless…”

“Yes?”

Unless someone wanted a reporter out of the way.
Eden twisted the phone cord around her wrist. “Unless they're after Noel.”

“Or both of you. Are you planning on calling the police?”

Eden shivered. She hadn't given that much thought. She'd discuss it with Noel later. “Noel feels the crash might be linked to the flight delay,” she said, avoiding Lori's question. “Do you remember that carton the pilots were told to hold for?” Fragments of the dream niggled at the back of her mind.

“Vaguely.”

“Noel thinks the two are in some way connected. Any way to find out what hospital in Houston the cooler was to be delivered to?”

When Lori didn't answer right off, Eden wondered what she was processing. Her friend eventually said, “I'll check the briefing notes, talk to Michael and get back to you. Tell me something though, it's been Noel this and Noel that. What's going on between you two?”

Eden's ankle pulsed. She squirmed uncomfortably. “Absolutely nothing. Our relationship's strictly business.”

“And I'm Hillary Clinton.”

Eden's voice rose a pained octave. “The man has no interest in me, Lori, nor me in him.”

“If you say so.” With that Lori disconnected the call.

“
H
ow about over there
?” Noel pointed to a redwood chair facing Lake Washington. “We'll use one of those tables as a footstool.” He lowered Eden onto the seat and moved the table closer.