This Time for Good

“Your friend is already here. Can I trust him? He’s no rapist, is he?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Ma’am is my mother. I’m Alexandria, or Alex. I have another question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Where are rows 15A and 27B? They don’t sound like first-class unless there’s a plane of all first-class seats. You know, I’ve never seen that before.” Alex tried to block out the sound of her brother gurgling.

“They’re not in first class.”

“Oh.” Her stomach bottomed out. She’d never sat in coach before.

“Where will Little Sweetie go?”

“Who’s that?”

“My Chihuahua.”

“Sorry. You’ll have to leave him home.”

“I don’t travel without him.”

Silence grew, but he broke before her. “I’ll call Hunter with an update if changes can be made. In the meantime you have two hours to pack and get to Hartsfield-Jackson Airport. Hunter’s a good man. He’s really efficient.”

“Yeah. He’s kneeling on my brother’s back now while the cops are cuffing him.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, trying not to cry.

“Okay,” Chris said, dragging out the word. “He’ll escort you to your home to get your essentials and then bring you out here. See you tomorrow. Again, my sympathies.”

Alex looked at the dead phone in her hand.

Hunter helped Mervyn to his feet and brushed him off.

Her heart squeezed in her chest. Her family couldn’t know that Marc might be dead. They’d really steamroll her then.

She had to get out of there, but if her father saw her face he’d know something was wrong. Then she’d break down and ask her dad to help her find out if Marc was alive or not. Then she’d be a vulnerable needy girl again, instead of a woman in control of her life and able to run a company.

Heading down the hallway, Alex scooped up Little Sweetie’s bag, grabbed her BlackBerry off the table, took Willa by the wrist and pushed her wayward group forward. Hunter followed with her purse on his arm.

“Where are you going?” her father demanded.

“I’ve said all I came to say. Now that Mervyn’s fired and on his way to jail, I guess you’re going to have your hands full. I’ll be back in a few days. Daddy, you have to collect that money and turn it in or no new projects will be green-lighted. Willa, stop crying now.” The woman’s sobbing instantly became tiny hiccups.

“Very good. Daddy, new credit cards will be issued tomorrow. The accountant will have them.”

“You will not leave here like this, Alexandria.”

“Daddy, I have to go to California. Today. Now. I’m leaving. If you have a business expense, submit it to the accountants in grandmother’s office. Do not yell at them. They’re not as nice as me. I’ll call you in a few days. Thanks. Bye, y’all.”

“In three days, this company will be back to the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Alexandria met her father’s gaze evenly. “We’ll see.”

He got in the elevator and rode down, no doubt to save his son.

Dragging Willa behind her, Alex held on to Little Sweetie’s doggie bag and shushed him. He ducked inside the bag and sat down.

“Jerry, I’m going away for a few days, okay? Do you think you can handle the phones for me?”

Her brother nodded and gave her the thumbs-up. The phone rang and he answered, “Wright Enterprises. How can I help you?”

She smiled at him. “Good job. Don’t let them take over, you hear me?”

He winked and went to work. Turning, she took two steps, and saw Hunter again, carrying her purse, clearly unhappy.

“Are you an accountant?” she asked him.

“Among other things. Today I’m here to escort you to—”

“Out of town,” she said, glancing at Jerry.

“That’s correct,” he said, picking up her cue for discretion. She wished he would step all the way back to the elevator so she could breathe, but to ask him would be rude. “Do you have a license?”

“For what?” he asked.

“Do you have one?”

“Yes.”

“May I see it?”

He seemed to be considering her from behind reflective sunglasses. “If you don’t mind, could you think a little faster?”

The only way she could tell she’d annoyed him was by the quirk in his jaw muscle.

Finally he pulled out his wallet and handed her his license.

“Here,” she said, giving him Willa’s arm as she scooted behind the receptionist’s desk and scanned his ID into the computer. Vincent Hunter Smith, six foot two, black eyes, black hair, thirty-three years-old.

He was handsome, but scary.

“Ma’am?” he said. “We need to get a move on now.”

“Alexandria. That’s my name. Or you can call me Mrs. Wright-Foster.”

“We don’t have much time, Alexandria. We need to go now.”

Somehow she hadn’t thought he’d go for Mrs. even though he was older than her by ten years. “I’m coming,” she said.

She returned his ID and he returned Willa, who’d lowered her sadness to a moan.

They boarded the elevator, and Willa stood behind them. “I don’t think I’m going to find another job. I’m going to lose my apartment.”

“Shh,” Alex told her. “Willa, you’ll work for me now as my personal assistant. Now be quiet. We have to think.”

“About what?” Willa asked.

Alex stood next to Hunter who watched the numbers above their heads intently.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “But I think we should be having important thoughts.”

He stuck his finger in his ear and shook rapidly.

They exited and got into his waiting SUV.

Maybe he’d gone swimming yesterday and the water wasn’t all out.

“You should try earplugs when you go swimming.”

His mirrored glasses turned toward her. “Buckle up. Where do you live?” he asked.

“Decatur, near the square.”

“I know where that is.”

“Good. The sooner we find out this was a mistake, the sooner I can go back to being Mrs. Marc Foster.”

He glanced at her. “What if that doesn’t happen?”

“I don’t know who I’ll be without him.”

Chapter 2

LAX teemed with people, but Hunter only had eyes for one person.

His gaze was fixed on Alexandria who walked in a purposeful circle, BlackBerry in hand. They’d arrived at the departure gate fifteen minutes earlier, but the plane to Del Rosa hadn’t arrived yet.

He wanted to check in with Chris, but didn’t want to be overheard by the surprisingly stoic young woman. He’d expected a lot of questions during the flight from Atlanta. But after they’d gotten settled in first class—she’d won that argument as soon as they’d arrived at the airport—she’d fallen asleep almost immediately, her eyes covered by a black silk mask, a custom-made contoured pillow protecting her neck, her personal blanket tucked around her shoulders.

To be honest he’d been disappointed. He’d expected questions, and he’d prepared answers. But that was the problem. He hadn’t had the opportunity to console the woman he’d been able to ascertain from his hurried investigation was a bit on the flighty, spoiled, entitled side.

As soon as they’d boarded the flight to California, she’d gotten comfortable, not wanting to eat or even drink anything except mineral water. Then she’d reclined her seat, tucked her hand under her chin, her neck against her pillow, and had fallen asleep.

Her beauty was flawless like that of a black porcelain doll, natural big black curls cascading over her shoulder nearly to her breasts. His mind began to play tricks on him as the plane streaked through the sky.

In his mind he’d taken her to Spain and Egypt, Russia and Europe. At first thought it had been an act, her falling asleep so perfectly. But then ten minutes rolled into a half hour, and then an hour, and then he realized he was the only one in their section not watching the movie or asleep. He’d been staring at her off and on for two hours.

Hunter stretched his back, relieved. To be off the plane and out of Atlanta felt good, but now Alexandria was attracting attention.

“I’ll make sure our connection is on time,” he said to give himself the benefit of distance.

“Where exactly are you going?” she asked, her eyes rich and vibrant, like the flavor cinnamon.

He looked at the desk and attendant five feet away. “Right there.”

Maybe she was confused, he thought, giving her the benefit of the doubt. She’d just found out her husband was dead.

“I’m going to try Marc’s phone again.”

“If you wait a couple minutes, I’ll find a place where you can make your call in private.”

“I don’t want to wait. I want to talk to him now.”

“I understand that, Alexandria. Just give me a minute—”

“Hunter, I’m not a child. You don’t have to babysit me.”

What would happen if this was the time that she finally realized he was dead and she fell apart? Then he’d have an hysterical woman on his hands. What if Chris had been wrong and Marc answered the phone? Then he’d have an hysterical woman on his hands.

What was he thinking?

Marc was dead!

Alexandria was sucking him into her land of make-believe where there were toy dogs, sobbing assistants and lunatic family members, not to mention the queen bee herself, Alexandria. The Clampets had nothing on the Wrights.

Hunter moved forward in the line. If he didn’t stick to the facts, he’d be as batty as they were. Marc was dead, he was escorting her to California, and in a few days, he’d be going back to Atlanta to resume running his security firm and playing his saxophone.

He’d finally gotten an offer to play at a small restaurant. The idea of taking his hobby to the public was the coolest feeling. Like he was some hotshot sax player.

He’d been waiting for that day for a long time. The movement in his arm was nearly a hundred percent after being paralyzed three years ago. Now his life was his own and he was ready to live it on his own terms.

Hunter checked the perimeter, being patient. He’d be back in Atlanta soon, and all this craziness would be behind him.

Chris had been right. Alexandria wasn’t pretty. She was gorgeous, and that was causing a problem.

Passengers who’d been relaxing with their legs outstretched snatched them back as if she were Moses and they were the Red Sea. She threaded her way through them and stopped at the window. Once more she banged the phone against her palm, put it to her ear, then dialed again.

The irrational feeling of wanting to abandon his place in line seized him and Hunter understood the instinctual emotion. He’d worked in security for nearly ten years. He’d protected families of presidents, dignitaries and kings, and now that he was in the private sector, sitting in his office issuing instructions got boring. He was being overprotective.

“How soon will the flight to Del Rosa be boarding?”

“The plane just arrived,” the attendant Brittney answered with a smile that hinted at recent injections. “We should be boarding in about fifteen minutes.”

Brittney was a cute blonde, but not his type. He needed a woman on the East Coast, older than him, and someone with career demands so high she didn’t really need him.

“Your ticket, please?” Brittney offered him a look that held untold promises. He handed her both itineraries.

“Your wife?” she asked, her head tilted sideways. Jealousy lurked in her blue eyes, and he could see the explosive arguments before they happened. Accusations would fly like dessert plates, his CDs innocent victims of her rage.

Two men stood on either side of Alex, blocking her path. She tried to get around them, but they were playing a game of cat and mouse.

“Girlfriend?” Brittney sounded more hopeful, and he was rewarded with a fluttering of eye blinks.

“No, ma’am,” he answered. “I’m her bodyguard. Excuse me.”

Hunter accepted the tickets, grabbed the jewel-toned designer purse that looked out of place on the vinyl seat, the empty doggie bag, neck pillow and magazines, and made his way over to the unlikely group. He stepped between the men and took her hand. “Mrs. Wright-Foster, we’re ready to go.”

“These men stopped me from getting by.” She was breathless and looked close to tears.

“They’re moving now.” There was steel in his voice and Hunter knew he was invested in her. He’d hoped it was just in protecting her until he delivered her to the brother-in-law she’d never met, but he’d surpassed that level of impassioned professionalism four hours ago.

“I’m going to give you two scenarios,” he said to the man wearing the terrible floral-shirt-patched-baggy-denim short combination. “One, you can spend the rest of your holiday as a guest of the Department of Homeland Security being questioned for unlawful imprisonment, or two, you can step aside and go on about your business.”

Alexandria crowded him, her body seeking protection. There wouldn’t be a fight, he knew, but these weren’t the type of men to back down without a few words.

“She looked like she needed a real man to help her.”

The words were meant to bait, but he wasn’t biting.

“Don’t worry, Officer,” a young man of about twelve said, holding up his video camera. “I recorded everything.”

“Thank you.” Hunter never took his eyes off the man he sensed would be the most trouble.

Slowly they stepped back and once they sat down, the tension eased.

Just then Brittney announced that boarding would be delayed another fifteen minutes.

Hunter tipped his videographer, who happily showed the money to his mother, who waved her consent.

“That was really nice of you.”

“He’s a good kid. Hold on,” he said, spotting a police officer. He pulled out his ID and the paperwork he’d received from Chris. “I’m looking for this lounge.” They were directed out of the main area of the airport to a long hallway with doors on the right wall.

Alex hurried by his side, her skirt forcing her to take baby steps. “Hunter, I have something to say.”

“You can’t walk and talk at the same time?” Realizing he needed to be more sensitive, he stopped. “What is it?”

“Why are you so angry?”

“I’m not angry. Do you always attract that type of attention?”

“What? Those men? I can’t help it if they wouldn’t let me by.”

“I told you to just give me a minute and I’d help you with your phone.”

“I’m not a child. I don’t need help.” She sounded as irritated as he felt.

“Fine. Was that all you wanted to say?”

“No. You look funny carrying my purse on your shoulder.”

Relief filled him and he realized he’d braced himself to be criticized by her. He thought she was going to complain that he’d embarrassed her or treated her badly. He’d heard it all before.

But not Alexandria. She was oblivious to her sex appeal. He handed her the pink purse. “You shouldn’t leave your bag lying around.”

“Thanks for rescuing me. I’ve been practicing how to become more assertive. But sometimes I get intimidated and the right words don’t come out.”

She had to practice being assertive? He’d never met a woman who didn’t know how to assert her opinion about any and everything. And she’d handled her family pretty well considering they were all crazy.

“How were you going to be assertive against those men,” he asked, looking at his watch, noting they only had about five minutes. Still, the quiet hallway was better than the main area of the airport.

“I would have said, ‘If you don’t get out of my way, I’m going to hurt you.’”

He tried to keep his smile hidden. “Hurt them…” He chuckled. “How?”

She put her hand on his shoulder and lifted her foot behind her. He endured her closeness and looked over her shoulder.

“This heel is a spike, and they had on those cheap flip-flops. One step in the right direction, and they’d have been on their knees.”

“You’re right about that,” he said, liking the length of her hair, the feel of her hands on his shoulders and the closeness of her body to his. He cleared his throat. “It’s time to board.”

Turning, Alexandria started back up the hallway. Hunter trailed, watching her sexy heels. He stopped his gaze from continuing, because this relationship would end in less than a day.

Once settled on the flight, he pulled out his cell phone and listened to his messages.

There was no first-class on this flight, so they sat together, Alexandria continuously pressing buttons on her phone during the trip.

“Did you ever figure out the problem?” he asked.

“Someone had it cut off.”

“What?” Hunter said.

“My phone’s cut off. I’m trying to figure out how to pay it if it’s cut off, but I don’t know any bank account information. Marc paid our bills, I think, or maybe the accountant. May I use your phone? I need to call Mr. Feinstein.”

Hunter handed it over, thinking high living at its worst. Alexandria fumbled through her BlackBerry, her hands shaking.

“Take a deep breath,” he said, covering her hands with his. “Everything is going to work out.”

“No it isn’t, Hunter. My husband might be dead, I have a brother-in-law I don’t know, and my phone is off. My world is coming to an end and everybody knows it but me. Do you not see how serious this is?”

The older couple in the seats ahead of them turned around and looked at Alexandria. “You’re being rude,” she snapped at them. “This is a personal conversation.”

“You’re the one who’s talking loudly,” the woman said with a scraggly voice and quickly turned around.

Hunter leaned close to Alex. “If you don’t want people to hear what you’re saying, just bring it down a little.”

“We’re practically in their laps. It’s hard not to hear each other, but it’s rude not to pretend.”

He got real close again, breathing in an intoxicating blend of jasmine and lavender. “Look, everyone knows your business because you keep putting it out there.”

“Your breath is tickling my ear.”

He couldn’t tell her what part of her was tickling his libido. “Just trying to share some wisdom,” he said, eyeing the two-carat diamond and the pretty lobe it was attached to.

“Hello, it’s Alexandria Lord Wright-Foster,” she said, holding the pillow close to her mouth.

She pushed her shoulder forward, her head back and looked at him.

Hunter nodded, letting her know no one else could hear her but him.

“I have a problem,” she told the person on the phone. “Service to my BlackBerry has been disconnected. Can you have it reactivated within a half hour? Thank you. Yes, I’ll call you first thing tomorrow. We can discuss all the finances then. Thanks, goodbye.”

“Problem solved,” he asked, accepting his phone.

“Yes.”

She still looked troubled, but pulled a little bottle from her bag and stopped the male flight attendant with a girlie flip of her fingernails. “May I have a bottle of water?”

“In just a few minutes. Ooh. Is that little ditty bag from Neiman’s? The new misting and moisturizing solution?” he asked as she slid the tiny container from the velvet bag.

“Yes. You need a little freshening?”

The attendant’s eyes lit up like Christmas had come again. “Always.”

He hurried to the front and got an eight ounce bottle of water. On his return, he carefully poured about a dropper full into Alexandria’s mister and she shook, then squeezed the atomizer at her face.

Hunter looked closely, but didn’t see the difference.

“Hunter, do you want some?”

“No way.”

Her purposeful blinks and pursed lips seemed to say that she was going to ignore him, and she passed it to the attendant. “You can have that as a present.”

The attendant practically leaped for joy as he misted his face and neck. “Wow, thanks. You’re so adorable.” He touched Hunter’s shoulder. “Don’t you just want to eat her up?”

The image that comment evoked was too dangerous to consider. He cleared his throat. “How long is the flight?”

“Thirty minutes. I’d better get back to work. Thank you, doll,” he said to Alexandria, and hurried about his duties.

Alexandria folded her hands, sat back and closed her eyes.

“What are you doing now?” he asked.

“Thinking important thoughts.”

“Of course you are.” He sat back and tried to do the same, like how soon was he going to get back to Atlanta and his real life?

Chapter 3

Hunter signaled the limousine driver who held a placard with their names on it. He’d retrieved their luggage, except for the dog.

“Alexandria, come with me.” Hunter escorted her to the car and watched her slide against the seat, then swing her legs inside the limousine.

There was such class about her, but he wondered how much trouble she was capable of stirring up? He’d seen just a bit of it, but he wondered if this was the calm before or the eye of the storm.

He shut the door then went to the trunk with the driver. “What’s your name?”

“Frazier.” The driver shook his hand and they stored the bags in the trunk.

“I’ve got everything except the dog. Here’s the slip.”

“I’ll get him now.”

Hunter nodded, baffled as to why Chris had chosen a black stretch limousine for an airport run. It was overkill.

Climbing inside, he sat next to Alexandria who was in the middle of the backseat and hadn’t moved an inch since she’d gotten in.

“I need to talk to Chris,” Alexandria said.

Hunter realized he shouldn’t have gotten in. The car was dark and private, and intimate.

“You will, very soon.”

“Now, Hunter. I want to talk to him now.” She didn’t raise her voice as her father did, but her intention was no less direct.

“Chris is busy and can’t talk to you until this afternoon. We only have time for you to get to the hotel, shower, change and ride to the chapel.”

“He’s not dead. For some reason, he canceled my phone.”

Alexandria pulled out her phone and began to dial Marc’s number again.

Hunter covered her hands with his, eased the phone away and pocketed it. She looked down as if he’d just performed a magic trick. “Hunter?”

“I’m going to check on Little Sweetie for you, okay?”

“Okay.” She reached for his pocket. “I want my phone back. Now that it’s working, I need to make some calls.”

“No more calls for now.”

“No, I need my phone.”

“Alexandria, we’ve traveled all this way. Have I hurt you? Have I done anything that wasn’t in your best interest?”

“No.”

“I’m asking you to trust me now.”

“But—” She looked out the window, her hands empty. “How am I supposed to be assertive and take charge of my life when no one will let me?” She pouted and he braced for a tantrum, but there was no storm. The fight left as it came. And he felt as if he was the bad guy. No better than her father or brother. But he knew the day was going to get worse before it got better. He knew but she wouldn’t believe him if he told her.

“We have guardian angels that protect us and we don’t know it.”

She tucked her chin. “You don’t believe in guardian angels.”

“I wouldn’t be here without them. I took a bullet once—”

Hunter stopped, having never told anyone besides the veterans’ psychologists about how it felt to be shot and paralyzed. The fact that he could use his right arm at all was a miracle. “I’m normal because of good doctors and great angels.”

“Where?”

“I was in Fallujah.” He realized that the intimacy of the limousine may have contributed to the revelation of such a private confession, so he focused on the foot traffic outside the window.

“I mean where on your body?” She touched him. “Your shoulder. Leg? Where?”

“My shoulder and, um, arm.”

“Didn’t you have a vest?”

“Yeah I did, but it just slowed the bullet.”

“Then you know how I feel. I want this to be different. I don’t want to know anything bad is going to happen.”

“I know, Alex. Alexandria.”

“You can call me Alex or Lexi.”

“Here comes Frazier, our driver.” Hunter stepped out of the car and closed the door, accepting Little Sweetie’s carrying bag. “How far is the hotel?”