Not that it sounded like Christmas. The bass boosted thump of some catchy hip-hop dance tune blasted over the beach from the new CD player the guys had chipped in to buy, after discovering the carcass of the old one just inside the door of her hangar. They had presented it to her two days ago, at Key West International Airport, when Tex had brought her back from Bermuda.
The guys. Micki swiveled to watch them, clowning around as they helped Bert the bartender grill the swordfish steaks and beer-boil the shrimp. At some point since she'd last checked, Tex had stolen Bert's chef's hat and was presently involved in a sword duel with Padre and a selection of barbecue tools.
She smiled fondly. With all that had changed in the past week, at least they hadn't.
That could not be said about the size of her party. Micki concluded that it must have been the mouth-watering aroma, blown around the beachfront by the balmy summer breeze, that had drawn in all these people—not to mention that Bert was offering half price drinks until 8:00pm. The guys had welcomed all with a 'the more, the merrier' attitude, and by now the genuine guests were outnumbered by complete strangers ten-to-one. Not that it mattered. Even with the beach this crowded, to Micki's eye there were still a few significantly empty chairs.
A soft whine demanded her attention. She faced the ocean again, finding Fizz sitting on the sand and impatiently waiting for her to toss the pink tennis ball he had just brought back. He seemed a little puzzled that she had forgotten they had been in the midst of play, and pawed at her in a bid for compliance.
Impulsively, Micki threw her arms around her dog and hugged him. Fizz responded with a lick that tickled her ear, making her fight down the lump that still came to her throat every time she thought about losing him. She'd lost so many people and things in her life, she was very grateful to have gotten at least this one back.
Ruffling the shiny black and white fur, Micki let him go and reached for his tennis ball. "Well, boy," she said, teasing him with it before she threw it, "what do you suppose we do now?"
Fizz barked, his body poised and ready to fetch.
Micki shook her head fondly. "I was talking about the future, but I guess we'll just take it one step at a time."
She threw the ball and Fizz took off at a gallop, ready to take life by the tail and give it a good shake. Perhaps she should take a lesson from his book, instead of sitting here mooning for 'what might have been.' And she had to face the fact that no matter what she told herself, that was exactly what she was doing.
The two days she'd been back had been absolutely perfect weather for flying, the best two days of the entire season, which was something of an irony considering
Jacinto Scenic Flights
was no more. Not that she felt much like taking to the sky, even if she could. Her cherished Cessna 172 was little more than a squashed cube of aluminum and plastic at the local salvage yard. The insurance people were set to visit her next week for a settlement, but beyond that, she had no plans.
"No plans," she repeated, although saying it aloud didn't make it any easier to stomach. She had survived, as she had vowed to do. So why did she feel as if something vital within her had vanished, and she was now just existing, rather than living?
Would she ever want to fly again? She could buy a new plane with the insurance money, although restarting her business with only that for capital would be tough. But, Micki admitted, wings weren't the only thing she needed. Flying had not only been her job but her passion, and now both were dead. Maybe it was time to bury them... for good.
Fizz retrieved his ball and, after trying unsuccessfully to engage a passing arm-in-arm couple in the fun, settled instead for lying in the cool wet sand to chew it.
Leaving town was certainly an option. The charter business her father had built was gone, and with it went all the ties that kept her in the Florida Keys. She could pack everything that would fit onto the back of her bike, and simply move on. Then she could drop Tex an occasional postcard, so that when the authorities in Bermuda needed her to testify at Reynolds' trial, he would know where to find her.
There were more than a few things she wanted to tell the jury about the man accused of Dirk's murder, and about Dominic Van Allen. All she had been able to learn about the aristocrat who was ultimately responsible for all the trouble was that the authorities were 'investigating.' Yeah, well, with his money, he could keep it hush-hush. But she knew Luke, and she knew he'd be dogging the crook's steps until he nailed him—even if he had chosen to do it without her.
Her sense of loss prevailed again. Razor. Dirk. Luke. It was difficult to believe how much her life had changed in the space of one short week.
The thought of Luke made her skin tingle, and she closed her eyes again, indulging the fantasy. She could still sense his closeness; the gentle touch of his hand that night in the cave, the protective way he held her while she slept. The flash of passion in his brown eyes during the showdown in the swamp, the sweet way he'd tasted when she'd found and kissed him in the wine cellar. They were all Luke, and they were all now part of her.
Damn, she was a sentimental idiot to have believed him when he said he cared. She was just glad she hadn't reciprocated—
"So is this spot taken, or can anyone park here?"
Startled, Micki swiveled on the sand, one hand raised to shade her eyes from the setting sun. Even so, she still blinked.
Luke Hardigan, clean shaven and immaculate in his Navy Dress Whites, was a breathtaking sight, even more so than Luke Hardigan, bearded, and wearing wet squared-legged swim shorts. Never had she seen him look so... good.
He smiled That Smile, and walked the last couple of steps toward her with his gold billed commander's cap tucked under his arm. "Hi."
Micki knew she was staring, but she couldn't help it. Her unexpected flush of pleasure was all out of proportion to what she told herself she should have been feeling. She should be mad as blazes.
So why then, damn it, did he still have the power to do this to her, make her insides melt with just one flash of That Smile?
Past Luke's shoulder, Micki saw the guys pause and look her way. Padre took a step toward her, but Tex put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Knowing there would be no quick rescue from this encounter, she turned back to the water. Luke could take her silence, and her back, whatever way he liked. Maybe he'd just go away again. That wasn't what she really wanted, but it was perhaps the easiest of her immediate options.
Luke sat on the sand next to her, a gleaming hero in his uniform, a white knight, fantasy fodder for any girl's wildest dream. With a lot of effort, Micki tucked away her admiration and her desire.
The arm-in-arm couple Fizz had tried to engage in play strolled past again with refilled drinks. They looked so happy, so in love, oblivious to the world and simply enjoying each other. Why couldn't her life be as simple?
"I suppose you know," Luke said conversationally, his elbows on his knees as he ran the band of his hat through his fingers, "that they dredged Ray's helo last Monday."
Micki nodded. "Tex told me."
"Then you probably also know that they changed their 'pilot error' ruling on the accident." He paused, smiling to himself. "Now they're saying my little brother was a hero, that he held onto control of the helo long enough to avoid the guys in the water. They're going to posthumously award him a medal for heroism."
"Razor deserves it, he was one of the good guys. And a damn fine pilot." Micki studied the man beside her. He was still in profile to her, his gaze focused on his hat. "Congratulations, Luke, I guess you got what you came here for."
He looked up then, his healing brown eyes searching hers for a long moment. "Not everything."
Fizz chose that moment to bound into Luke's space, tail wagging and tongue lapping in greeting after depositing his pink tennis ball within easy reach.
"Well, hi ya, boy! At least you're glad to see me, huh, fella?" He ruffled the dog's shiny coat affectionately. Fizz responded with a few dozen licks and a meaningful whine at his toy. Understanding, Luke tossed it toward the water, and with a short, enthusiastic bark, Fizz was off after it. "I told you he'd make it. I'm glad he did."
"Me, too." Watching him pick some black fur from his sleeve, Micki asked, "What's with the uniform anyway?"
Luke shot her a devilish grin. "Well, you know what they say about Dress Whites."
"Not really," she said aloofly. "Look, if you're trying to impress me, it won't work. My father was in the military, remember? I grew up around good looking guys in uniform. And Tex and Padre—"
"Tex," Luke cut in. "He's the one you left the hospital with?"
"Well, you certainly didn't stick around long enough to take on the job."
"Is that what this is all about? Me leaving? Micki, you were unconscious and you were in good hands. I thought you'd realize I didn't want to leave you like that, I had to."
Micki's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Van Allen was making a run for Italy, and we'd never have gotten him if he'd made it there. I had to move fast." He gave her a subdued grin, uncertain of her reaction. "You and I made a pact to survive to get the Bad Guys, remember? I couldn't have faced you when you woke up, if I hadn't held up my part of the bargain after you got us off that damn island."
"The Hamilton Police said you took the flash card thingy." She kept her voice carefully controlled and even. "When I gave my statement, they said they had Reynolds in custody and were charging him with Dirk's murder."
Luke hesitated. "You haven't heard?"
"Heard what?" Her voice rose. "If that fat little spider is going to wriggle out of what's coming to him, then I'm—"
"You don't have to round up a posse." Luke shot her a fond glance, but the somberness returned to his expression as he continued. "Reynolds hung himself in his cell last night, when he found out his boss's lawyers were trying to lay the whole thing on him, to buy Van Allen time to make it to protected territory."
A muscle twitched in Micki's jaw as she watched Fizz lying in the sand next to his ball. "I can't say I'm sorry." She was silent a long moment. "And what about Van Allen? Did you get him?"
Luke nodded solemnly. "They indicted him this afternoon in DC. I just came from the hearing. He's locked up safe and sound. Thanks to those files Jurgensen gave you, Van Allen and company are going to prison for a long, long time."
Micki diverted her eyes. "Then it's over. Really over."
"That's exactly what I thought when I went back to Bermuda."
"You went back? Why?"
"To get you." He shifted around to face her directly. "Do you have any idea what it did to me, when they told me you'd checked out with some guy?"
Micki could imagine. She had been living and breathing that same sense of rejection ever since she'd awakened in the hospital without him. To think that Luke had been jumping to the same wrong conclusions that she had was... enlightening.
"It wasn't 'some guy,'" she said lamely, "it was Tex."
"Didn't you get my messages?" he asked urgently. "Geez, I must've left twenty or thirty on your answering machine at the hangar. Do you know there's something wrong with your home phone?"
"I... unplugged it," she admitted. "And I haven't been to the hangar since I got back. No point, really."
Luke was silent for a moment, studying her. "I see. The truth is, you didn't want to talk to me. And I can understand that. That's why I knew I had to come down here the first chance I got. I'm hoping you'll give me a chance to change your mind. That, and—" he unbuttoned the flap of his breast pocket "—because I have something for you... Michelina."
She grimaced at the use of her full name. "Who told you?"
"Let's just say it was on a need to know basis, and that I needed to know. For this."
He offered a folded slip of paper to her from between two fingers. Micki was aware of him watching her every move as she took it. She knew it was a check, although she didn't unfold it or read the amount.
"Now you can restart
Jacinto Scenic Flights
," Luke announced. "Along with your insurance settlement, that should get you back in the sky."
"Not in the Florida Keys." She regarded the folded slip of paper in her hands and considered tearing it up. Returning to her former way of life was suddenly not the easy choice any more. "There are too many memories here."
"Somewhere else, then." Luke grinned. "There are tourist attractions all over the country, just begging for someone to come along and fly people over them."
Micki's eyebrows lifted as she finally counted the zeros on the check, not really listening to him. "I know you want to settle your bill, and I appreciate that, but this..." She met his gaze and shook her head. "This is way too much."
"Okay," he said facetiously, "so I did just assume you had the manicure."
She shot him a sharp glance. A week ago she would have been quite happy to take this guy for every cent he had, but a week ago seemed as if it had been an entire lifetime ago. So much had changed, including her. "I only want what's fair, Luke."
"And that is." His brown eyes flashed with warm amusement. "You know that. You've been keeping a running total in your head ever since we left the hangar."