Package Deal

Package Deal

Chris Chegri

Chapter One

T
he only thing more nerve-racking than waiting for your kid to blow her lines in a school play was waiting for a man to call. Kelly Pearson paced the lengthy patio, a candy cigarette dangling from one hand. She had hurried home after her daughter’s school play, hoping her lawyer would call before she left for the airport.

The San Francisco air swelled with the cool, fresh scent of April rain, but Kelly remained oblivious to the rumbling army of black clouds rolling in from the west. A cool breeze laced through the wrought iron balcony rails, lifting the hem of her skirt and snapping her attention to the advancing storm.

“Jeez, I’m not asking for a miracle, just a return phone call!” She yanked her billowing hemline back over her legs with the same exasperation thickening her voice. In a split second, the sky opened up. Rain pounded the patio, forcing her to flee inside. Tugging the French doors closed behind her, she crossed the living room to the breakfast bar, stopped in front of the telephone and glared. “Well, ring for Pete’s sake!”

Her plane to Daytona Beach departed in less than two hours and still no phone call from her lawyer, who had promised last week, in his smooth diplomatic tongue, that he would get back to her by Tuesday. It was Wednesday. First thing this morning, Kelly had called his office, and the secretary told her he would be tied up until ten. Kelly checked her watch—twelve-thirty.

I’d like to tie him up and drop him overboard three miles off the Pacific coast!

She raised the candy cigarette to her lips. She’d quit smoking after her daughter’s birth, when doctors diagnosed her daughter, Lacy, with infant asthma. Since then, Kelly caved in only occasionally, if her stress level soared. Thankfully, that hadn’t happened often. Even so, at times like this she resorted to a benign substitute—candy cigarettes purchased at the convenience store. She picked up the package and tossed it into the wastebasket, crossing her fingers in front of her as if warding off vampires. The sugar wasn’t much better for her than the nicotine, but her nerves were fried.

Three weeks earlier, she had accepted a job with a newspaper in Daytona Beach. In the next ten days she would meet her boss, settle in at the new office, and find somewhere for her and Lacy to live before returning to San Francisco to pack. The next week and a half would be grueling.

She crossed to the French doors again, impatience riddling her stride. Watching the storm roll in, she knew by the looks of the escalating downpour she would be drenched before she reached her car.

She wanted to have this legal business finished before she left town. The last thing she wanted to think about during this trip was her ex-husband, Ken, and how he had responded to her suit for increased child support. She knew it would gnaw at the corners of her mind until she talked with her lawyer. She could imagine Ken’s egotistical response. He’d already shown his colors.

Ken could easily afford to increase the one hundred and fifty dollars a month ordered by the court six years ago for Lacy’s support. Instead, he had
stopped
making payments. His blatant refusal to take any financial responsibility for his child had pushed Kelly to the limit.

Sadly reminded of her own father’s shortcomings, she’d hired a lawyer, the wrong lawyer, she decided, eyeing the silent phone.

“Are there any dependable men out there?” she shouted at the phone. “I should have hired a woman.”

She reeled away from the counter, trying to shake the collage of unsavory memories filling her mind. There hadn’t been many men in Kelly’s life. Only three significant relationships—her father, her younger brother Robby and Ken Pearson, her ex-husband. Two of the three had
been self-centered, disposable dads, and all three
had
ultimately let her down.

Kelly
groaned, feeling more disappointment than anger.
”Come on! I can’t believe this guy!”
If she waited any longer, she would miss her plane. She had already loaded her luggage in the car, and Lacy was upstairs with Jill, Kelly’s neighbor and best friend. Slipping her purse over her shoulder, she picked up Lacy’s pet rat’s aquarium, and hurried upstairs to Jill’s apartment.

Jill ans
wered
after one knock. “
I thought you were already gone. You’re going to miss your plane if you don’t step on it, girlfriend.”

“You’re a great one to talk. You’ve missed more planes than I’ve taken.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my style, not yours.”

“True.”

Jill and Kelly were as different as night and day. Jill was spontaneous and impulsive, Kelly methodical and cautious. Despite their strong differences, they complemented one another, and their relationship had evolved like Perrier with a twist of lime—Jill being the lime. Kelly valued their friendship, knowing good friends were worth their weight in gold and about as hard to find.

Kelly nodded at the tank in her arms. “I almost forgot our fuzzy friend. It’ll be a gray day when Skunk goes to rat heaven.”

Jill laughed. “You’re in luck. Your daughter is asleep on the couch. Promise I won’t leak a word of your near negligence.”

Kelly passed the tank over to Jill.
 
Jill eyed the rat with alarm. “No lid?” She didn’t share Lacy and Kelly’s fondness for their rodent roommate.

“Nope. He’s trained.”

“To do what?” Jill wrinkled her nose, holding the tank away from her body.

“Trust me. He won’t wander far, but if you’re missing anything in the morning, check the tank. The term
pack rat
applies.”

Kelly flashed Jill a bright smile. “You’re a true friend, Jill.”

“Only a true friend would rat-sit!”

Once aboard the flight, Kelly relaxed. She stuffed her small carry-on bag beneath the seat in front of her, cinched her seat belt tight for takeoff and fished through the seat pocket, pulling out a rumpled copy of the airline’s magazine. On the cover, in flaming orange letters, the headline read,
Disaster Imminent – Air Traffic Controllers Daily Play God.

“I really don’t need this,” she mumbled. Just what I want to read—how we might burst into flaming brisket mid-flight, while tired, over-worked air traffic controllers play video games on their computer screens. She dropped the magazine to her lap, leaned back and closed her eyes.

Minutes later, she sensed movement beside her.
A low, resonant, masculine voice interrupted her thoughts. “Looks like the emergency instruction card will be popular reading today.”

“I’ve already memorized mine,” she said with a laugh. Tucking the magazine back in the pocket, she glanced up at him.

Her first reaction to the handsome face was a simple, inane smile of pleasure, but within seconds her old defenses surfaced, tugging the uplifted corners of her mouth down and sending a red alert through her system. Ken had been recklessly handsome, and she’d failed to see past his good looks to the problems ahead. Since their divorce, she’d been a bit more cautious with men
flaunting flawless faces.

“
It’s probably a conspiracy.” He chuckled, stuffing a small bag into the overhead compartment. “You’d think they wanted us to stop flying.”

Kelly shrugged. “Not a great choice for the cover of an in-flight magazine, but nothing surprises me anymore.” She snatched up the magazine again, knowing the less conversation with this man the better. But it was too late. His lean, tanned face and coke bottle green eyes were already burned into her memory. She focused back on the suddenly dull pages of the magazine.

He slid his briefcase beneath the seat. “Are you flying through to Orlando?”

Resist as she might, his voice lured her in.

“I’m going to Daytona,” she said, then turned to gaze out the window, hoping by the grace of God he would disappear, leave her alone, or do something predictable like hit on the flight attendant.

“Daytona. Really? I live there.”

Just my luck.

He lowered himself into the seat beside her,
his wide shoulders brushing her arm and setting a wave of warmth spreading along her side. Startled by her physical reaction, she shifted closer to the window, wishing she could crawl out on the wing.

He twisted around in search of the missing end of his seat belt, and his hand rubbed against her thigh. Again, the warmth, and Kelly pulled her arms and legs in closer, drawing up into the miniscule space allotted her by the airline, cursing her body for its betrayal.

“I’ve been in California on business,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes, wondering w
hat made him think she cared.

“Are you visiting someone in Florida or on vacation?”

She found his geniality threatening. “Neither. I’m on business.”
And
I wish you’d mind your own
. Having occasionally met men convinced of their ability to charm the skin off a snake, she glanced over to see if he had on a snakeskin belt.

She knew she was acting ridiculous.
Okay, I’m feeling a little vulnerable,
she admitted to herself. Still, she had no desire to small talk with him. Her life was safer without men and a lot more secure since she’d accepted the fact. A stab of resolve tightened her throat, and she recalled the promise she had made to herself six years earlier when Ken graduated from college and dumped her.

She hated the word
dumped
, but that is precisely what he’d done. She gritted her teeth, wondering if she would feel the sting of that rejection forever.
At the time, everyone
told her to let it go, not take it personally. But how do you
not
take that kind of rejection personally? And if you do let go, how do you rebuild your shattered self-esteem after the bird of paradise has crapped on it? How do you ever trust again after the man you love abandons ship, and not for another woman, but for a few nights out with the boys. Kelly hadn’t figured that out yet.

She tightened her seat belt against the swell of regret, which by now should have been a familiar demon. She should have seen through Ken from the beginning. She’d been so naïve. Ken had
hurt her like no one ever had—or would again—at least that’s what she believed until her brother Robby died. Even now she shuddered, feeling the pain of his death rise in her chest.

Since then, she’d protected herself from further pain and disappointment. She’d been blind when it came to her father and Ken, and the truth was, she didn’t have much faith left in her own judgment. She couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t go blind again.

Confident her memories formed some protective shield around
her,
she studied the stranger beside her. He was attractive, therefore, all the more dangerous. Smile lines at the corners of his mouth softened the brittle gleam of his green eyes, suggesting a probable age somewhere in the mid to late thirties. His laptop lay open, his eyes locked on the screen, so she didn’t think he noticed her eyes on him. He must have sensed it though, because he looked up, a disarming smile riding his lips. Again, he tried to make light conversation, but Kelly turned and stared out the window—thank goodness she had a window seat—not wanting to encourage him. Looking bewildered, he closed his laptop for takeoff and stashed it under the seat in front of him.

Kelly gazed out past the drizzle clouding the oval window. She fought off a wave of loneliness.
No big deal
. Rain always seemed to make her more emotional. Maybe that explained why she’d been so attracted to sunny Florida. She switched her gaze to the open magazine in her lap, reminding herself the grass was always greener on the other side. She knew there were women, living with men, who were lonelier than she was. Relationships came without guarantees. The guy sitting next to her might be a prince, but right now there wasn’t a place in her life for a prince or a frog.

The flight attendant worked the aisle, handing out headsets. Eager for some diversion, Kelly accepted a set, planning to lose herself in a movie. The handsome hero in the scheduled film would be a safe choice, more entertaining and less of a risk to the heart than Mr. Daytona Beach sitting beside her.