Eden's Dream (17 page)

P
ractically clicking his heels
, Noah stepped off the shuttle and into the crowded departure lounge at LaGuardia Airport. In a few minutes he'd see Eden again. Never mind that they hadn't spoken since that horrible evening. While being apart from her had been brutal, it had given him time to think, to put his life into perspective and his priorities in order. Deep down he knew they were meant to be together. But where, would that lead? Marriage was clearly out of the question. He didn't intend to get hurt again. No sirree, he wasn't about to stick his key in a lock, come home to an empty apartment, and find his wife gone. And it wasn't like Eden was exactly geographically desirable. Dating her would mean work, commuting on weekends perhaps.

Paco, the inspector accompanying him, fell into step. “Hey, Robby, what's on your mind, man?”

“Nothing related to the job.”

They headed for Pelican's check-in counter where they were to meet Sinclair Morgan. With each step, Noah's excitement mounted. He'd been lucky to get this assignment. Actually lucky wasn't the word. He'd engineered it by volunteering, hoping to get Eden's ear and plead his cause.

Initially, Gary had been somewhat suspicious of his motives. But he'd convinced his boss that since they were only days away from publishing their findings on the Pelican crash, what would be the harm. This would be a routine inspection. He'd complete the assignment, look at Pelican's safety practices and see the woman of his dreams. By appealing to the carnal side of his boss' nature he'd been virtually assured the job. Hell, he'd even stashed a pair of clean underwear and toiletries in his briefcase, just in case. He could wish, couldn't he?

A woman wearing a bright smile and equally bright jacket stood at the counter. She crossed the lobby, meeting them halfway, extending a hand. “Hi. I'm Sinclair Morgan, Pelican's base manager. Jack described you perfectly. He told me you'd be coming in on the ten o'clock shuttle.”

Jack was the airline's chief pilot, they'd been told.

Both men shook Sinclair's hand then followed her to the right and down a flight of stairs. On their way, Sinclair acknowledged the greetings of both cleaners and pilots. Noah had heard Pelican's operation was small, but he hadn't guessed it was that small. They stopped in front of a closed door.

“Our offices and briefing rooms are back here,” Sinclair said.

Noah's heartbeat quickened.

Sinclair punched in a code, jiggled the knob and pushed the door open. “You requested Eden Sommers show you around.”

“I did.”

Sinclair raised a quizzical eyebrow. “How do you know, Eden?”

Was it his imagination or was the woman smirking? “We've worked together in the past,” Noah said, hoping that the woman wouldn't ask for specifics.

“Is that so?”

“Ms. Sommers' professionalism impressed me. She's one bright lady.”

Sinclair beckoned them inside. “Eden's waiting in the Atlantic briefing room. Please follow me.”

E
den's fingers
twisted the ends of the burgundy scarf around her neck. Why had Noah asked for her? Hadn't she made it clear there was never going to be anything between them? Now he'd placed her in a difficult position. She could hardly say no to the NTSB.

With her free hand, she smoothed the material of the pencil-thin, ankle-length skirt, and then glanced at her watch. Eleven o'clock. The ten o'clock shuttle from National would have landed by now.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway forced her to pull herself together. She pasted on a phony smile and with her professional mask in place, turned to greet the arrivals.

Oh God! The man looks better than ever.
She saw the familiar cleft in his chin as he smiled directly at her, green eyes sparkling.

Sinclair beamed from ear to ear making introductions. “Eden, this is Paco Hernandez. Noah, I assume you know.”

Eden tried to block out Noah's presence, grasping the outstretched hand of a tall, handsome Latino man. His warm brown eyes roamed over her. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Sommers.”

“Eden.” Noah's gravelly voice called her name.

Calling on the Almighty to get her through this moment, she faced Noah. “What a surprise to see you, Mr. Robbins. Where would you like to start?”

“The name's Noah.”

Wasn't he cool? Plenty of practice, she assumed.

“I leave you in good hands then,” Sinclair said, slipping from the room.

Eden repeated the question, this time directing it to Paco. “Was there a particular area or department you wanted to begin with?”

“I'll leave that up to Noah. Is there a men's room I can use?”

Eden gulped. What rotten timing. Had the two of them planned this? Now she'd be left alone with Noah. “Out in the hallway. Hang right. It's the third door down.”

“Thanks.”

The door closed behind Paco, and she faced Noah. “I've missed you,” he said, moving in and taking her hand.

Jerking her fingers from his reach, she stepped back. The smell of a spicy cologne lingered in the air, tickling her nostrils. She'd never seen Noah dressed for business; this new look was very appealing. The double-breasted gray suit, fitting to perfection had to be Armani. A crisp white shirt and red power tie completed the look.

Another step forward and he'd invaded her space. “I can understand why you're still angry. But Eden, be fair, you never even heard me out.”

“Heard you out? Isn't it enough that you lied to me repeatedly? Do you always use the people you claim to love?”

“I do love you, Eden. Intensely. Passionately. Staying away from you has been one of the most difficult things I've had to do.”

Wavering on the brink of throwing herself into his arms, she remembered Lori's words. Noah was a lady's man, used to women lusting after him, fawning all over him. She couldn't let her heart get in the way.

“Look, this isn't the time or place to have this discussion,” Noah said. “After we're done, I don't have to rush back to DC. We'll go someplace, have a drink, and talk. I'd say dinner, but you'd only say no.” He raised a hand, stilling her words. “Eden, listen to me, there's something you should know. I've read the Pelican report. I now believe Rod's innocent.”

E
den perched
on the edge of a barstool looking as if she would rather be anywhere but there. Noah sat next to her nursing an almost empty beer bottle.

A trim waitress in a micro-mini and punk haircut leaned over to deliver their second round, giving Noah full view of ample cleavage. Smiling at him, she set the bottle down. “One Corona and a Robert Mondavi for the lady.” She placed the glass of wine in front of Eden. The airport lounge Eden had chosen did brisk business. Noah could barely hear himself above the buzz of professionals networking. Grateful that Eden had agreed to meet with him, he wasn't about to complain. He picked up his full bottle of Corona and clinked against Eden's glass.
“Salud.”

Without acknowledging his toast, Eden took a tentative sip of wine and set the glass back on the faux marble counter. Swiveling her bar stool ever so slightly, she turned to face him. “Where did your sidekick disappear to?”

“He left on the six o'clock shuttle.”

“Oh?” A tiny pink tongue flicked out as she sipped Mondavi. He longed to capture that tongue in his mouth and taste her sweetness. Eden's expression hardened as she caught his eye. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”

Her voice was cold. Uncompromising. A far cry from the practiced politeness he'd been subjected to earlier. Business was over with, and she no longer wished to play the game.

“We'll get to that soon. Look, there are some things I need to tell you, if we're going to move forward.”

“Move forward?”

“That's what I want.”

“Am I supposed to believe anything you say?” Eden said brutally.

“Touché.” He knew he deserved it, but her jab still hurt. He swigged his Corona. “Look, much of my work is undercover; I'm not in the habit of announcing to the general public I'm with the NTSB.”

Eden wrinkled her nose. “And I'm the general public?”

“I didn't say that.”

Frustrated, he drummed his fingers on the bar. “Eden, this isn't exactly easy for me to say. I was removed from the case and technically on vacation. Later I was placed on leave of absence. My boss knew I couldn't let this thing rest, so he stuck his neck out, supporting me, basically going against his own boss' mandate. Had I walked up to you and introduced myself as Noah Robbins, NTSB inspector, would you have been receptive to meeting me?”

“Probably not.”

An elegant man in a navy blue suit and cream-colored tie climbed onto the stool next to Eden. “Hi,” he said, flashing her a megawatt smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“The lady's not interested,” Noah snapped, tossing the man a look that would freeze water. Noah scooted his seat closer to Eden. She drew back, careful not to let their sleeves touch. The man in the navy suit turned his attention to the blonde on his right.

“Eden, I already said I was sorry. I've even acknowledged that I waited too long to come clean. Look, I was wrong, I admit it, but there just never seemed to be a good time.” Her hand clutched the edge of the bar, knuckles almost popping from their sockets. He covered her hand with his and continued. “When I first met you, I had one purpose in mind: Get whatever information I could and run like hell. But you had the most unsettling effect on me—and then I got to know you. Talk about the best laid plans backfiring. You see, I'd promised myself I would never fall in love again.”

“Were you that badly burned?”

She was at least talking and hadn't removed her hand. That was good.

“Scorched. I was married for five years to a flight attendant. Gayle was a woman I trusted and loved more than life itself.” Eden's golden eyes flickered in the light from the wall sconces. Now that he had her attention, he kept talking. “We'd recently renewed our vows. Imagine coming home one day to find your wife had run off with a pilot.”

“It must have been painful.” Eden slid her hand out from under his. “I'm sorry.”

“
Painful
isn't the word. I was devastated. After our divorce, it took me almost a year to want to ask a woman out.”

“I would imagine.” The tips of her fingers made circular motions against his balled fists. “So how come you're considered the NTSB stud of the year?”

Lowering his eyelashes, he glanced at her surreptitiously. Eden's expression revealed nothing but curiosity. Curiosity and compassion. Perhaps she was ready to believe him. “That reputation has no foundation, and I've never encouraged it. Why is it women seem to fall so easily for the handsome face instead of the qualities that make for a good relationship? Now here I go getting maudlin. Can we go someplace and talk? Someplace I can buy you dinner?” He could tell she was about to protest, and his index finger touched her mouth, silencing her. “That cafeteria meal earlier today wasn't really food. Let me take you someplace where the steak's at least edible.”

When he sensed Eden weakening, Noah pressed his point. “Look, I need to talk to you about the NTSB's findings, and this really isn't a good place. We could be easily overheard.”

Eden picked up her purse and stood abruptly. “Okay.”

“Eden, wait.”

“I said okay. What kind of food would you like?”

E
den and Noah
were led to a table in the back of the restaurant by an overzealous owner. Eden had chosen the little restaurant because the fare, though hardly classifiable as fancy, stuck to the ribs. Located in nearby Woodhaven, the restaurant was a stone's throw from the airport.

“Youse okay with this?” The portly restaurateur waved them in the direction of a table for two in a recessed corner. Fake silk plants created the illusion of privacy.

“Is this good?” Noah asked Eden.

“It's fine.”

“Flag the waiter down when youse are ready to order,” the owner said, departing.

Noah unfolded his napkin and settled it on his lap. Even from across the table, he could smell her perfume. “Now where were we?”

“You were going to tell me what you found out.”

“Ah, yes.” The smell of spring flowers tickled his nostrils, conjuring up visions of another time and place. He struggled to remember his topic. “I previewed the NTSB report, the one that's about to be released.” No reaction on Eden's part. “I did mention the cockpit voice recorder was found.”

“You did.”

“Well, a committee consisting of our guys, the FAA, the plane's manufacturer, and the pilots' union all listened to the recording—”

“Just tell me what was found.” Eden's voice remained neutral.

Noah arranged and rearranged his forks and spoons in one straight line. He'd have to eat humble pie on this one. Still, the longer he dragged this out, the longer Eden would spend in his company. “Engine noises seemed normal, communications from air traffic control indicated nothing out of the ordinary, and conversation between pilots seemed routine.”

Eden didn't even crack a smile. She just sat there prim as a nun, graciously not saying I told you so. “What's considered probable cause?”

“Sabotage.”

“God, Noah, no!”

Though he'd reinforced what she'd initially believed, Noah knew she must be hurting. He grasped the hand gripping the edge of the bar and waited until she'd taken several deep breaths. The news had affected him the same way, but at least he'd had several days to deal with it. The thought of all those innocent lives lost nauseated him. How could anyone be that cold, that uncaring?

“Ready to order?” Their waiter poured two glasses of water and stood pen in hand.

Reality at last filtered through. “I'm sorry,” Eden said, nodding vaguely in his direction.

“Eden, have you decided?” Noah asked, resisting the urge to give her a hug. Maybe later. Maybe later when they were alone.

“I'm not very hungry.”

“Soup and salad?”

She nodded and let him order for both of them.

When the waiter departed, Eden took a long, cold drink of water. “Noah,” she said, “I think I have a lead. Lori tells me the guy that's been feeding Michael information is willing to talk. He's been laid off for more than six months, and times are lean. In the next couple of weeks, I'll be hiring people for a temporary base. If I guarantee him a job, he'll talk to me.”

“What are we waiting for? Call Michael. See if this man will meet us.”

“Now?”

“Now's as good a time as any.” Noah handed her his cellular.

He drummed his fingers against the table while Eden dialed the Goldmuntzes' number. She waited for someone to pick up. A child's piercing greeting eventually echoed in her ear. “Hello.”

“Is your mommy or daddy home?” Eden lowered her voice, hoping the child would follow suit.

“Daddy is.”

“Good. May I speak with him?”

When Michael came on, Eden went through the obligatory inquiries about health before stating her purpose.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

Eden gave Michael the restaurant's name, glanced at a book of matches on the table, and provided the exact address.

“I'll try reaching Kendall Alexander. Do you have a number if he's agreeable?”

She gave him Noah's cell number and ended the conversation.

The waiter set down their salads and a basket of warm rolls. Eden reached for the bread eagerly.

“Got your appetite back?”

“Umm hmm.” She bit into a crisp bun.

The phone rang just as Noah's entree and Eden's soup were served. Clamping the phone to her ear, Eden listened to Michael. “He'll do it! He'll meet us!” she whispered to Noah. “Oh, Michael, that's wonderful news. Course we'll feed him and pay his cab fare. Do you even have to ask?”

An hour passed and still no Kendall Alexander. They'd long completed their meal and downed several cups of coffee.

“Do you think he got cold feet?” Eden asked, gazing at the rapidly thinning dinner crowd. The few people remaining lingered over nightcaps. He shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? Did Michael happen to mention where the guy lives?”

“Brooklyn.”

“And we're in Queens. I don't suppose an hour travel time is unreasonable, especially if there's traffic.” He glanced at his watch, then back at Eden. “He'll need to get here soon though, or I'll miss the last shuttle to DC and you'll be forced to put me up.” He winked at her.

“There's always my nice comfortable couch,” she said brutally.

Wow! She hadn't exactly said no. Her backhanded invitation, though totally unexpected and unplanned, warmed him. He decided to push it. “Thanks. Being in bed with you would be a whole lot more comfortable.”

“If it's a comfortable bed you seek, then a hotel's always an option.”

A man with skin the color of burnt pecans, dressed in denim from head to toe, rushed through the door. He scanned the restaurant and smiled when Eden waved at him. She rose, beckoning him over.

“Hi, Kendall. We've never formally been introduced. I'm Eden Sommers.”

“Noah Robbins.” Noah stood up, offering his hand.

“Ken.”

The man's handshake was weak. “Please sit down.”

“Michael didn't mention anything about a Noah,” Ken said, shooting Eden a wary look. “Can I trust this guy?”

“With your life. Noah's a friend of mine. He's with the National Transportation Safety Board.”

“Yeah?”

“Hungry?” Noah asked after they sat back down.

“You buying?”

“Yeah.” Noah waved over the waiter and had him bring Ken a drink and menu. He waited until the man placed his order. “Michael tells us you may have some information that could be helpful,” Noah began.

Ken sipped his drink, eyes darting around the room. “What's in it for me?”

Noah opened his mouth, but Eden beat him to it. Her voice was gentle—even soothing. “I know you've been out of work for some time, and Michael thought maybe we could help each other. We're opening a temporary base in a couple of months. We've got plenty of positions. If you're able to give us the information we need, I'll guarantee you a job.”

“Will I get that in writing?” Ken knocked back his drink and signaled the waiter for another.

Eden cocked an eyebrow. Her face had begun to take on the expression Noah had come to associate with “Don't push me.” “My word's good enough. Either you want the job or you don't.”

“I want it.” The waiter returned, setting down a steaming bowl of soup and an enormous basket of rolls. Ken dove for the bread, biting into a crisp roll as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. He shoveled heaping spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup into his mouth and chewed. “What do ya want to know?”

Gesturing with her hand, Eden turned the conversation over to Noah.

“This is hard for us. Eden and I both lost friends in the Pelican crash. We're still trying to make sense of it.”