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Authors: Barbara Delinsky
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about apprehension. They operated the same as always. Her temperature followed its established pattern, staying well below normal in prelude to a dip on the eighth.
Spencer called on Friday morning before she left for work. "Just wanted to confirm our date, " he said.
"It's not a date, " Jenna chided. "It's an appointment. " She was determined to keep things on the up-and-up regarding the exact nature of their liaison. Spencer hadn't chosen her as a lover. She couldn't pretend that he had—and she couldn't let him think she was pretending it. That would be humiliating. Things were awkward enough without it.
"Appointment, then, " he conceded in a deep but agreeable voice. "Are we on?"
"Yes. "
"Good. " Nonchalantly, he said, "I made an appointment to have some work done on the plane. The best mechanic around is at Norwood Airport, which is about an hour's drive from your place. Feel like taking a ride and picking me up there tomorrow afternoon?"
"Uh, sure. "
"That way we can talk a little before we—well, we can talk. "
For a split second Jenna imagined that he was feeling awkward himself. Then she ruled out the possibility. Spencer wouldn't feel awkward about sex. He was too experienced for that.
"Sounds fine, " she said, managing to sound fully composed. "What time should I be there?"
"I won't be able to leave here until afternoon. Allowing for air traffic, then time to make sure my guy knows what I want done—is six-thirty too late?"
She felt instant relief. "Six-thirty's fine. " That meant she could keep herself busy all day, and it meant that she'd only have to worry about entertaining Spencer on Sunday. On Monday morning, she'd be back at work.
"Drive right around to Hangar C, " he instructed, "and give a honk to let me know you're there. See you then. "
"Okay. 'Bye. "
He looked unfairly dashing. He was wearing a navy shirt with the cuffs rolled and the tails out, and khaki shorts that left his long legs bare to his deck shoes. He had a worn-looking duffel thrown over his shoulder and a bulging briefcase under his arm, and might have been mistaken for a weekending yuppie if it hadn't been for the carved lines of his face. They were bold and lent him an untamed look, upheld by his scar, his dark tan and his even darker, windblown hair. And then there were his eyes, always his eyes.
With a helpless sigh and more than a flutter inside, Jenna waved and waited while he crossed the tarmac to where the Jaguar was parked. She half expected him to come to the driver's side and shoo her over. Instead he opened the passenger door, tossed his gear into the back and slid in.
"Sorry, " he muttered, and stared out the front. "The goddamn mechanic forgot I'd called, and he took off for the weekend. His partner was there, but he doesn't know his ass from his elbow. He's not touching my plane. "
"So what will you do?"
"Mac'll be back on Monday. He'll have to do the work then. " He looked at her. "Have you been waiting long?"
"Five minutes. It was nothing. " She couldn't take her eyes from his. They were as intense as ever, yet distracted. "You look tired. Was it a difficult flight?"
"The flight was okay. It was everything I had to do beforehand. My editor doesn't like my latest manuscript and wants major revisions. That news came in the mail yesterday—the bastard couldn't tell me in person. I spent most of the afternoon on the phone with him. We were able to compromise on some of the stuff, but there's still a hell of a lot to be done. I'll have to work on it here. "
Jenna couldn't believe her luck. She'd been granted a reprieve in the entertainment department. "That's fine. You can work in my office at home. There's a huge desk and good light. " She would bend over backward to be accommodating. "Do you need a computer?"
He made a disparaging sound. "I can barely type, let alone use a computer. "
She was amazed. Spencer always had such a capable air about him that she had assumed he was proficient in just about
Spencer called on Friday morning before she left for work. "Just wanted to confirm our date, " he said.
"It's not a date, " Jenna chided. "It's an appointment. " She was determined to keep things on the up-and-up regarding the exact nature of their liaison. Spencer hadn't chosen her as a lover. She couldn't pretend that he had—and she couldn't let him think she was pretending it. That would be humiliating. Things were awkward enough without it.
"Appointment, then, " he conceded in a deep but agreeable voice. "Are we on?"
"Yes. "
"Good. " Nonchalantly, he said, "I made an appointment to have some work done on the plane. The best mechanic around is at Norwood Airport, which is about an hour's drive from your place. Feel like taking a ride and picking me up there tomorrow afternoon?"
"Uh, sure. "
"That way we can talk a little before we—well, we can talk. "
For a split second Jenna imagined that he was feeling awkward himself. Then she ruled out the possibility. Spencer wouldn't feel awkward about sex. He was too experienced for that.
"Sounds fine, " she said, managing to sound fully composed. "What time should I be there?"
"I won't be able to leave here until afternoon. Allowing for air traffic, then time to make sure my guy knows what I want done—is six-thirty too late?"
She felt instant relief. "Six-thirty's fine. " That meant she could keep herself busy all day, and it meant that she'd only have to worry about entertaining Spencer on Sunday. On Monday morning, she'd be back at work.
"Drive right around to Hangar C, " he instructed, "and give a honk to let me know you're there. See you then. "
"Okay. 'Bye. "
He looked unfairly dashing. He was wearing a navy shirt with the cuffs rolled and the tails out, and khaki shorts that left his long legs bare to his deck shoes. He had a worn-looking duffel thrown over his shoulder and a bulging briefcase under his arm, and might have been mistaken for a weekending yuppie if it hadn't been for the carved lines of his face. They were bold and lent him an untamed look, upheld by his scar, his dark tan and his even darker, windblown hair. And then there were his eyes, always his eyes.
With a helpless sigh and more than a flutter inside, Jenna waved and waited while he crossed the tarmac to where the Jaguar was parked. She half expected him to come to the driver's side and shoo her over. Instead he opened the passenger door, tossed his gear into the back and slid in.
"Sorry, " he muttered, and stared out the front. "The goddamn mechanic forgot I'd called, and he took off for the weekend. His partner was there, but he doesn't know his ass from his elbow. He's not touching my plane. "
"So what will you do?"
"Mac'll be back on Monday. He'll have to do the work then. " He looked at her. "Have you been waiting long?"
"Five minutes. It was nothing. " She couldn't take her eyes from his. They were as intense as ever, yet distracted. "You look tired. Was it a difficult flight?"
"The flight was okay. It was everything I had to do beforehand. My editor doesn't like my latest manuscript and wants major revisions. That news came in the mail yesterday—the bastard couldn't tell me in person. I spent most of the afternoon on the phone with him. We were able to compromise on some of the stuff, but there's still a hell of a lot to be done. I'll have to work on it here. "
Jenna couldn't believe her luck. She'd been granted a reprieve in the entertainment department. "That's fine. You can work in my office at home. There's a huge desk and good light. " She would bend over backward to be accommodating. "Do you need a computer?"
He made a disparaging sound. "I can barely type, let alone use a computer. "
She was amazed. Spencer always had such a capable air about him that she had assumed he was proficient in just about
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