Love at First Flight (11 page)

“I know I did. All day today I tried not
to think about what happened last night, but then it would come back to me with
this rush of pain. It's strange. She made me so mad, yet still it hurts so
much. Why do you suppose that is?”

“Because you loved her, and she let you
down. You're probably disappointed more than anything.”

“Probably.” He finished his beer in one
long swallow. “She hit me.”

“
What?
She
hit
you?”

“After the party when she finally got
that I meant it when I said it was over between us.” He brushed a hand over his
face. “I can almost still feel it.”

“Someone needs to smack her,” Juliana
said with indignation.

“We're quite a pair, huh?”

She laughed. “We're a two-person support
group for losers in love.”

He rested his head back against the
lounge chair and smiled at her. “I'm glad you're here.”

“I am, too.”

***

Juliana woke up disoriented the next
morning in the strange bedroom with the blue walls and curtains—until the
events of the day before came rushing back to her.
What am I doing here? I can't stay with a guy I met on an airplane! I
must've lost my mind while I was in Florida.
She got up to make the bed,
straighten the room, and get dressed. Tossing the last of her belongings into
her bag, her hand brushed against the ivory silk nightgown she bought just last
week with Jeremy in mind. An intense ache streaked through her when she
imagined him with the faceless Sherrie. Had he acted yet on his newfound
freedom?

Juliana sat on the bed to catch her
breath and fought the urge to call him. Was it too much to want to hear his
voice like she had every morning for so long? “You will not call him.”
Determined, she stood up, zipped her bag, and went downstairs. In the kitchen
she looked for some paper to leave a note for Michael and instead found one
from him sitting next to a key on the counter.

“Good morning! I made coffee for you.
All you have to do is press start on the coffeemaker. There's cereal in the
cabinet over the stove, otherwise it's slim pickings. Here's a key for the
front door. Make yourself at home. Feel free to use the roof deck and anything
else you want or need. I should be home by eight, and we can deal with your car
then. Call my cell phone if you need anything (the number is on the card I gave
you). Have a good day! M”

Juliana read it again. He was such a
nice guy, and it made her mad all over again to imagine his fiancee hitting
him. He didn't deserve that. What he
did
deserve was a friend. Standing there with his note in her hand, she thought of
some things she could do to help him out while he was working crazy hours.
Since she couldn't pay him much rent, she could do the grocery shopping,
cooking, and laundry. Maybe this would work out well for both of them. He'd
give her a place to hide out for a while, and she would make his life easier
during the trial. She put the key in her pocket and hit “start” on the
coffeemaker.

***

Michael's day began at seven in a
meeting with the jury consultants they'd hired to help them empanel the twelve
citizens most likely to convict the Benedettis. They pored over demographic
reports, census information, and a PowerPoint presentation that outlined the
consultants' idea of the perfect jury.

We
'll never get it
,
Michael thought.

The defense had an ideal jury of its
own, and he could guarantee it looked nothing like the one on the screen. In
one week, the battle would begin. If they were lucky, they would get half the
ideal citizens the consultants identified.

With the meeting heading into a fourth
hour, Michael excused himself and left it in the capable hands of his second
chair, George Samuels.

Michael had just returned to his office
when Tom Houlihan knocked on the door. The picture of an up-and-coming
politician, Tom had close-cropped blond hair, blue eyes, and a boyish face that
made him look much younger than his fifty years. Michael respected the hell out
of the guy and didn't like the expression on Tom's face as he closed the door.

“What's up?” Michael leaned back in his
desk chair and gestured for his boss to take a seat.

“I heard you had quite a weekend.”

“He didn't waste any time,” Michael said
through gritted teeth.

“He's upset. His daughter's upset. His
wife's upset.” Michael hated having this conversation with his boss, of all
people.

Tom put both hands on Michael's desk. “Here's
the deal, Michael. Your personal life is none of my business, and I told the
Admiral the same thing. What is my business is the trial you're starting one
week from today. You've just broken up with your fiancee, and I wouldn't be
doing my job if I didn't ask whether your head's in the game the way it needs
to be right now.”

Michael didn't blink when he replied. “It
is. The trial is all I'm thinking about. You don't need to give it another
thought.”

Tom studied him for a long moment before
he said, “Good. You know my door's always open if there's anything I can do for
you in the next few weeks.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Oh, just one other thing. I saw the
report this morning from Rachelle's detail. You had someone with you last night
who wasn't on the list. What's up with that?”

“She's a friend who was with me when
George called me in. Rachelle took a liking to her and wants me to bring her
again. I'll get her on the list.”

“I don't have to remind you to be
careful.”

“I'd never do anything to endanger her,
Tom.”

“I know.” Tom hesitated before he added,
“Are you all right? You know, the thing with Paige and all...”

“I'm fine. Thanks for asking.”

Tom nodded. “Carry on then.”

As Michael watched him leave, his cell
phone vibrated on his desk. He checked the caller ID to find that Paige was
calling again and ignored it. She had left six hysterical messages on his voice
mail since he left her house on Saturday night, and he had no plans to call her
back. He had twenty minutes until a meeting with his ballistics witness, which
was just enough time to review the report one more time.

The phone on his desk rang. “Maguire.”
He pulled the file he needed from a sloping pile.

“Michael.”

He groaned. “Not now, Paige.”

“You have to talk to me.”

“I don't
have
to do anything.”

“But we're engaged...”

“We're not engaged. Not any more. The
wedding is off. I'll talk to you, but not until the trial's over. Not one
second before. Am I clear?”

“What
am I supposed to do until then?”

“Maybe you should spend the time
thinking about what you're going to do with your life. It's time you figured
that out, don't you think? Now, I have a meeting, and I have to go. Do
not
call me at work again. I mean it,
Paige.”

“Michael, please.”

With a vicious swear, he slammed down
the phone. “Everything all right in there?” his assistant called.

“Yes,” he hissed.

***

Juliana let herself into the house on
Collington Street that had been her home for the last four years. As she shut
off the alarm, she almost felt like she was breaking into Jeremy's house and
was amazed at how disconnected she felt from him on just her first full day
without him. She checked the mail and paid a few bills from a joint account they
opened when he was sent to Florida. He provided the money, she wrote the
checks.

After the chaos of her family life,
Juliana had always loved this house. Jeremy's mother had taken impeccable care
of it, and they put their own stamp on it. But after seeing Michael's home, it
just seemed boring in compar-ison. It had none of the charm or style of his
place.

Juliana went upstairs to the bedroom and
moved fast to pack what she wanted to take to Michael's. The bedroom was full
of memories—the candles on the bedside table, the framed photos of her and
Jeremy, his clothes hanging next to hers in the closet. She picked up a photo
of them taken at the beach the summer before. Studying his tanned, smiling
face, she wondered if he had wanted other women then, too. Breathless from the
pain, she put down the photo and hurried through the packing.

She rushed back downstairs with two
bags, weak with relief that she had found somewhere else to live for the time
being since there was no way she would've been able to stay in their place
after what happened. She reset the alarm and locked the door. On the walk back
to Michael's house, she took several deep breaths to settle her rattled nerves.

Making her way up Chester Street, she
noticed a man standing outside of Michael's house, looking up at the front
door. He was young and might have been Hispanic.

“May I help you?” she asked, startling
him. “You live here?” She nodded.

His eyes narrowed. “Just you?”

A prickle of fear crept down Juliana's
spine. “Yes,” she said since there were people close enough on the sidewalk to
come to her rescue if necessary.

He looked her over again and then walked
away.

Juliana hurried up the stairs, her hands
shaking as she used the key. Inside, she locked the door, dug Michael's
business card out of her purse, and called his cell phone.

“Hi,” he said. “Everything going okay?”

“Yes, thanks.” She hesitated, wondering
if she was overreacting.

“Juliana? What is it?”

“I, um... I had kind of an odd encounter
on the street a minute ago, and I thought you should know about it.”

“What kind of encounter?”

She relayed the conversation with the
man on the street. “I thought of what you said about them watching you, so
that's why I told him I live here alone.”

“Juliana!” His distress came right
through the phone. “I appreciate you trying to protect me, but you shouldn't
have put yourself in jeopardy like that! What if he had grabbed you or
something? Are you all right?”

“I am now.”

“What did he look like?” She described
him.

“Doesn't sound like any of the
Benedetti's known associates. Since he didn't really do anything threatening, I
can't see the point of calling the cops.”

“I guess not. I just thought you should
know. Sorry to bother you.”

“It's no bother,” he said, still
sounding rattled. “You were right to call me. Thanks for what you did, but
don't do anything like that again. I want you to be careful.”

“I will be. Don't worry.”

“I'll see you tonight.”

***

Michael hung up with her, picked up his
office phone, and dialed Tom Houlihan's direct line.

“Hey, it's Michael. I need you to
authorize a cop at my house until the trial is over.”

“I thought you'd turned down protection.”

“A guy on the street outside my house
just asked my roommate if she lives there alone. He gave her the creeps. And
I've had the feeling I was being watched a couple of times lately when I was on
the street.”

“Consider it done,” Tom said.

“Thanks.”

CHAPTER 11

AFTER SHE TALKED TO MICHAEL, JULIANA
CALLED HER brother Vincent.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you back?”

“Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

“My stupid car is dead at the airport.
Can you do one more day with Ma? I'll get over there before work tomorrow.”

“Do I have to? She's been a bear all
weekend.”

“She's a bear every day. You just don't
see it most days. Will you do it?”

“I guess so.”

“Thanks,” Juliana said, relieved.

“You owe me.”

“Don't go there, Vin.”

He laughed. “So how's Mr. Wonderful?”

“He's fine.”

“Still no ring?”

“Don't go there, either,” she said,
shutting down one of her brother's favorite subjects. He couldn't understand
why Juliana hadn't pushed Jeremy into marriage, which she found ironic since
Vincent had been pushed into two disastrous marriages of his own.

“Hey, you know what I always say: if
he's getting the milk for free, why buy the cow?” He laughed at his own joke. “Moo.”

“That's enough, Vin,” she said softly. “Strike
a nerve?”

“I've got to go. Don't forget about Ma.”

“Don't forget you owe me. Hey, do you
need help with your car?”

Juliana's anger faded a bit at that. “No,
thanks. A friend's going to help me. I'll talk to you later.”

After she hung up, his words echoed in
her mind: why should he buy the cow when he's getting the milk for free? “Yeah,
well, it's not my milk he wants!” Juliana shouted to the quiet house. “How does
that grab you, Vin? It's not my milk he wants.” She'd heard that stupid line
from Vincent a million times over the last ten years, but it took on a whole
new meaning now.