Out of Control (17 page)
Then again, maybe he should go somewhere. Maybe he should go to Hawaii, spend his two weeks doing some serious surfing.
He rolled back across to his internet computer, intending to check the times of the military flights heading south. Somehow he found himself checking the commercial airlines, looking to see which carrier had a 2145 flight that would eventually get to Jakarta.
He told himself that this way he’d know if something happened, like if Savannah’s flight crashed. Yeah, that was definitely why he wanted that information.
No way was he going to do something really asinine, like go to the airport and get on a plane to Jakarta with a friend of Adele’s.
No way. He wasn’t that freaking stupid.
Ken went into his bedroom to look for his passport.
Molly found Jones easily enough at the Parwati airport.
He was running the checklist, getting ready to take off.
“I got your phone message at the church,” Molly said as a greeting. “Thank you so much for taking the time to call.”
“The part came in,” he told her, “and it actually fit. I figured if you could get here by the time I was ready to leave, I might as well take you back with me.”
As far as she could tell, he’d taken advantage of the shower at the hotel, but like her, he’d had to put his same dirty clothes back on. He hadn’t managed to locate a razor, and he’d gotten a brand new layer of grease on himself while fixing the plane.
“The guy I spoke to in the terminal said you’ve been ready to go for about four hours.”
Busted. He didn’t know what to say, so he glared at her. “So what?”
“So thank you,” she said. “For waiting for me.”
The glare became a glower. “Just get in the plane.”
She climbed in, and he started taxiing to the runway before she even got the door closed and her seatbelt fastened.
He still hadn’t gotten his radio fixed, and the tower—if you could call it that—signaled him with a flag when it was time for him to go.
Molly managed to hold her tongue until they were in the air. Until they were almost home. “I really do appreciate this,” she finally said. “You’ve given a full eight days of my life back to me.”
While she’d been prepared to return without complaining to the village with the mule train up the mountain, she was exceedingly grateful not to have to endure that camping nightmare. Not to mention the fact that the five-day trip wasn’t scheduled to leave for another three days.
“How much?” Jones asked.
“How much what?”
“How much do you appreciate it?”
Molly laughed, rolling her eyes. “Must we have this particular conversation?”
“See, I figure if you appreciate it enough, I might be willing to give you a ride into town just about whenever you want to go.”
She knew exactly what he was getting at, but she wanted to see just how low he would go.
“Are we talking one-way or round-trip flights?” she asked.
“One way.”
“Of course,” she said.
“It doesn’t have to be you on the plane.” He was warming to the idea. “Say some other kid gets sick. He and his mother need a ride to the hospital. I’m there.”
Molly nodded. “All I have to do is . . . Four times, and they get there and back.”
“Guaranteed.”
She sighed dramatically. “I don’t know, Mr. Jones. That’s an awful lot of time I’d spend on my knees—praying. Because that’s what you meant, didn’t you? That I should show my appreciation by praying for you?”
He looked at her. “What did you think I was talking about? Blow jobs? No way. A blow job’ll only get you part of the way to town. I was talking full penetration sex. Me inside of you as far as I can possibly go. And then some.”
Molly laughed. “Wow,” she said. “Last night really scared the hell out of you, didn’t it? I really scare you, too, don’t I? Well, guess what. It didn’t work. I’m not going to be insulted by your outrageously crude proposition. I think . . . yes, I’m going to be flattered instead. So thank you very much for being so terrified of me, but we’ll stick with my list of requirements before you get inside of me as far as you can possibly go—and then some.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “Except that little list’s going to keep growing and growing. I’ve got to start going to church, right? And before I know it, I’ll be shuttling every kid with sniffles to the doctor in town with no end in sight. I’ll have to help you train the villagers in animal husbandry—getting animals to get it on, that’s lots of fun. And oh, yeah, after I do all that? When I’m all showered and shaved and saying please every other smiling word?
“That’s when you sweetly let me know that church ladies like you believe that extramarital sex is a sin. I’ve got to marry you if I want you, right?” He laughed in disgust. “Thanks but no thanks.”
Molly laughed, too. She just laughed and laughed. “You’re afraid you want me enough to marry me. Oh, my! Mr. Jones, I’m flattered, but really. I’m not looking for a lifetime commitment.”
“You’re crazy,” he said flatly. “Because that’s not what I just said.”
“It’s not what you think you said,” she countered. “But you did say it. You know, it really is your lucky day. I like you, despite your attempt to pretend to be the lowest scum-sucking, slime-eating, godforsaken worm on the face of the earth. And I have to confess, I find you physically attractive, too—despite the Han Solo outer crust. I’m dying to be friends with you. Intimate friends who have—as you so eloquently called it—full penetration sex as often as discreetly possible. No wedding ring, no promises, no stupid games with changing rules.
“I’m not any kind of saint, but yes, there are things I believe in, completely, with all my heart. I believe that the sin lies in not taking precautions to prevent an unwanted baby. Sin is in not using protection against AIDS. Sin is the dishonesty with which so many people—both men and women—get other people to sleep with them.”
They were approaching Jones’s airfield, and she waited until he brought the little plane in before she continued. She wanted his full attention.
The landing was bumpy—no doubt on purpose. He was, after all, scared to death and trying to scare her, too.
But they taxied toward the Quonset hut that Jones called home, and he cut the engines. The silence was remarkable.
“If you want to be friends with me,” she told him quietly, “I’ll welcome your visits with a cup of tea and a smile. If you want to be intimate friends, and I think you want that as much as I do, we’ve got to be regular friends first. I need you to be completely honest about what you want and who you are. I’m not looking for you to share all your secrets with me—just a few. I know you don’t really want to marry me. Believe me, neither one of us is looking for a lifetime commitment here.”
“I thought all women wanted to get married.” It was the most honest thing he’d said to her today.
“You thought wrong,” she informed him.
He was holding on to the funny-shaped steering wheel with both hands, as if he didn’t trust himself to sit so close to her without touching her. Molly could relate.
She reached out, even though she knew she shouldn’t, and brushed his hair back from his face. It was as soft to touch as she’d imagined. “I suspect a woman would have to be a saint to spend the rest of her life with a man like you. And as I said, Mr. Jones, I’m no saint. But an occasional night or two with you might be exactly what I need.”
He turned toward her, but she unlatched the door and slipped out of the plane.
“Have a nice day, Mr. Jones.”
“Molly.”
She stopped walking but she didn’t turn around.
“I can’t do this,” he said tightly. “I can’t be your friend.”
It was something she’d already considered—that it was possible that Jones was simply too scared of this powerful pull between them. Lord knows it frightened the hell out of her.
He could very well just pack up and leave. There was a large chance that once she walked away, she was never going to see him again.
It took every ounce of faith Molly had not to turn around and beg him not to go. But she knew that that probably would scare him into running.
“Too late,” she called back to him as cheerfully as she could manage, then headed down the trail to the village without looking back.
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Six
“You’re wearing that for a flight to Jakarta?”
Ken. Savannah nearly dropped her attaché case as she spun to face him. It really was him. He was really here in the airport.
He must’ve heard the message she’d left on his machine. He must’ve forgiven her. It took every ounce of control she had not to burst into tears.
“Where’s your luggage?” he asked. “Because the first thing you’ve got to do is change out of that shit. Forget about the fact that you’re going to be traveling for twenty-three hours straight and you’re going to be as uncomfortable as hell. That skirt’s too short, and you need to wear something that buttons all the way up to your neck.”
Savannah looked down at her pale yellow suit. The skirt was by no means too short. “Why?” It was not really the question she wanted to ask him, but it was all that came out.
His mouth turned into an even more grim line in his angular face. “Because I say so. If I’m coming with you, I’m going to make goddamn sure you don’t get yourself kidnapped or killed. And that means you’re going to do exactly what I say, without question, or I walk, is that clear?”
What was clear was that he hadn’t forgiven her. Now the tears that threatened were from disappointment.
Yet somehow he’d decided to help her, to come along. That was something, wasn’t it? It was a start.
“I’ve already checked my luggage,” she told him, careful not to cry—not for any reason.
He swore, obviously no longer bothering to watch his language around her. “Okay. Then the first thing we do when we hit Jakarta is claim your bags—provided they make it there. Of course, there’s a good chance they won’t. But if luck’s on our side, once we get there, you can change into something more suitable in the ladies’ room.”
Savannah nodded, willing to play by his rules. “All right. Although you’re going to have to give me a bigger hint about what you mean by more suitable. Because I’m not exactly dressed like a stripper, so . . .”
He didn’t even crack a smile. It was as if he’d had a sense-of-humor-ectomy between last night and right now.
“Chances are your uncle got himself into trouble with the locals, and the money is some kind of payoff. The majority of Indonesians are Muslim—I’d be willing to bet that’s who we’ll be dealing with when we get there. The more religious sects have tougher rules about what a woman can and cannot do—down to the clothes you wear. It’s a good idea for you to go in covered—ankle to wrist. That way you can’t offend anyone and make things worse for your uncle.”
Ankle to wrist? “But isn’t it really hot there?”
“Yeah,” he told her. “This way I won’t be the only one uncomfortable.”
She looked at him. He was wearing cargo pants—the kind with lots of pockets, and an untucked green and brown Hawaiian-style shirt, open over an olive drab tank undershirt, sandals on his feet. He was dressed for hot weather—loose, cool, comfortable clothes.
“Do you still have an airline ticket for me?” he asked. He was carrying a small duffle bag, and a day pack was over his shoulder.
“Yes.” Savannah forced herself to hold his gaze. “I didn’t cash it in because I was hoping you’d change your mind.”
“Well, shit, aren’t I predictable?”
“Thank you so much for coming with me,” she told him.
“Yeah, well, I got the time off and I didn’t have anything better to do.”
“I’m prepared to pay you for your time.” Savannah knew the instant the words were out of her mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.
“Oh, that’ll make it all better,” he replied. “Does that really work for you? To throw money at all your various problems?”
“No,” she said. “I’m sorry—”
“Screw your money,” he told her. “I don’t want your money. No, I’m accepting your original offer. I’ll take my payoff for this job in sex.”
It couldn’t have stung more if he’d reached out and smacked her across the face.
“Then you might as well go home, because I’m not sleeping with you ever again.”
“Gee, last time you said something like that, you jumped me within two hours. Good thing I packed a lot of condoms.”
Savannah lost her temper. “Why are you here?” she asked him. “If it’s to make me feel terrible, good job—you can go now. You obviously have no intention of forgiving me, you act like you hate me—”
“I don’t,” he said. “I don’t hate you. Jesus.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” she said again.
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