Chapter Two

Noah sat in the cockpit of his plane, a Cessna Mustang with gray interior, running down the preflight checklist. He would be in New York by evening. It was already Thursday. That left only four days not only to track Savannah down, but also to convince her to spend time with him. He frankly didn’t care if it was no more than going out for a cup of coffee.

The plane was new – he’d only had it a few months, and had only flown it three times – but he was already in love with it. He liked the idea of having his own space. No pilot banter. No crude jokes. No forward flight attendants.

Noah supposed he was not the typical pilot. He loved flying. Passionately. He just didn’t care for much of the culture that went along with it.

He taxied out to the runway and waited his turn. It would be a little while, but he didn’t mind. He still had internet.

He’d run into a dead end with the twenty-five drug companies he’d found online. Nothing seemed to be going on in New York that would attract a drug rep. Her words kept replaying in his head. You know enough to find me.

Had she been to New York before? That was a place she had always wanted to go. He recalled a cool fall Saturday they’d spent on Lake Martin on his boat. He winced at the memory of telling her the boat belonged to a friend.

There were so many things he hadn’t told her.

The weather had been perfect. A soft breeze. The sun warm but not hot. The leaves on shore starting to turn. The water calm. They were anchored in a quiet cove, difficult to find this time of year. But Noah knew the lake inside and out. When he wasn’t in the air, he had been in the water. His mother used to joke that he’d had something against land.

That’s how it had been, anyway, before he met Savannah. After that, all bets were off. Even when he’d been in the air, he felt her pulling him back to her. Actually, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t gone out in his boat again that year without taking her with him.

He’d brought a blanket and she had lain with her back snuggled against his chest.

They had nothing to do that day. Mid-terms were over, and they were on a break. It was Saturday, so she wasn’t at her student worker job.

“I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be,” he’d said.

“Really? I can.”

He hadn’t answered right away.

“I’d want you with me,” she added quickly.

He laughed. “I wasn’t fishing. I was just trying to think of someplace better.”

“Not necessarily better, just different.”

“I’m listening.” He kissed the top of her head. He loved the way her hair smelled. He didn’t tell her that, of course.

“San Francisco seems nice.”

“California? That’s like a whole different country out there. People are different.”

She shifted, to glance at him. “How do you know?”

“I’m a pilot.”

“Have you been there?”

“No. But I hear things.”

“OK. New York then.”

He stroked her arm, instinctively holding onto her as a wave from a jet ski hit them. “Too big.”

“That’s what makes it so cool,” she said. “So much history and so much energy right there in such a small space.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s so big that most of it is in the sky.”

He chuckled. “You like the idea of people living in the sky?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Don’t you? I mean of all people you should like it. You love riding in the sky, why not live in the sky?”

“That’s an interesting concept, my love.” He took her hand, held it in his, marveled at how much smaller it was than his. How soft. “And very perceptive of you. I do love everything related to the sky.” He waited a beat. “Savannah Skye.”

“I have my moments.”

“What would you do in New York in the sky?”

“I’d spend the day at the Empire State Building.”

“It’s not the tallest.”

“Doesn’t have to be. It’s one of the oldest and has a wraparound view.”

“They have a restaurant that turns while you eat.”

“No way? How do you know that?” She shifted to glance at him before settling back against him.

“You have so little faith in how much I know.”

He felt her laugh against him. “I don’t think you know as much as you think you do.”

“What would you do on the Empire State Building?”

“I’d look around at everything. I’d even look through those telescopes they have. And…” She squeezed his hand. “I’d let you kiss me.”

“Well,” he said, pulling her around to face him, “Since you’re taking me with you to your land in the sky, I suppose we’d better make sure we’re in good practice.”

She always smiled when he went to kiss her. It had bothered him at first, so much so that he’d once asked her about it.

“Why do you smile when I kiss you?”

She’d looked a little perplexed. “Because I like kissing you.”

The voice on the radio indicated it was time for takeoff. Pulling himself out of his memories, he went to work. As he left the safety of land, his thoughts left the safety of the past.

Had she been to New York before? Had she been to the Empire State Building? Had she kissed someone there?

He should have been the one kissing her on the Empire State Building.

After landing in New York, he had to wait again in a line of planes for his turn to get to a parking space. He opened his iPad and went for a broad Google search this time - medication conferences.

It took no more than a few keystrokes for him to feel the jolt of success.

There was a psychopharmacology conference going on right now at the Grand Hyatt Hotel in New York. The American Society of Clinical Psychopharmacology. She hadn’t said she had a specialty. It made sense though. After all, he was certified to fly only certain types of airplanes.

He scrolled through the program and grinned like a cat who had just stuck the claws of his paw into the tail of a mouse.

 

Savannah sent out for room service – a big salad with turkey and a bottle of water. She had read all the articles she had downloaded to read. And she already had a working draft that she’d started six months ago. She still had revisions to do on the PowerPoint before her presentation tomorrow morning, which was scheduled for 11:00 a.m. The Drug Rep: An Inside View of the Unconscious.

She’d done a similar presentation a couple of years ago, but this was a bigger – much bigger – conference, and she wanted to make sure all her references were updated. She also had to make sure she had appropriate psychological jokes. Psychiatrists and psychologists want entertainment with their information. Her plan was to give them just enough of a peek beneath the curtain – or as Sigmund Freud would say, a peek at the ankle – to keep them interested, but not enough to give too much away.

She looked at her notes scattered across the desk and wondered how that had become the whole purpose of her life. Give them just enough, then get out. It would be nice to just, once in a while, be able to let her guard down and say what she really wanted to say instead of what was expected or what would be most effective.

While she munched on a bite of egg, turkey, and spinach, someone knocked on the door.

“Room service.”

They must have made a mistake, she thought, walking across the room.

“I already have what I need,” she said, through the door.

“We have a delivery for you,” the man insisted.

Savannah didn’t open the door. She trusted most of the strangers she came in contact with in her travels. However, the story of the drug rep brutally murdered in her hotel room in Minneapolis had imprinted itself in her mind and she’d often considered how that could have happened. There were so many possibilities but Savannah always went for the most viable.

“Just leave it,” she said. “Thank you.”

The man put something next to her door and walked off.

Savannah waited. She really couldn’t be sure he’d left. But if they’d brought her salad twice, she needed to call and straighten it out.

She walked back to her desk, drank some water, walked back to the door, and waited. When she heard voices coming down the hall, she opened the door. If she was going to be nabbed, at least she’d have witnesses.

Instead of the food service tray she’d expected, there was a vase of red roses next to her door.

Two women walked down the hall, passed her, and no one else was visible.

She picked up the vase and took it into her room, locking the door behind her.

Keeping the flowers at arm’s length, she took them to the bathroom and set them on the counter. She kept her eyes on them as though they would bite if she looked away. No one had sent her flowers since the construction worker, and that had been at the beginning of their relationship.

Why would someone possibly send her flowers?

After several minutes had passed, she thought to look for a card and found one. The note was printed, so no handwriting to decipher.

Good luck with your presentation tomorrow.

She turned it over. There were no other identifying notes. Not even a florist name. That was odd.

Perhaps the conference coordinator had sent flowers out to all the presenters. That was the most logical explanation she could fathom. If she, however, had been the conference coordinator, she would most definitely not send out the flowers of love to wish someone luck. White roses perhaps. Even better, would have been a bouquet of flowers with lilies, white roses, and white miniature carnations in a blue vase. Maybe some white daisies. Definitely white flowers.

Instead, a vase of long-stemmed red roses with assorted fresh greenery and baby’s breath in a silver vase sat on her bathroom counter.

Deciding they weren’t going to do any damage, she took each bloom, one at a time, and examined it. They were all perfectly formed rose buds. She sniffed. Definitely high quality. She counted them.

Frowned.

Counted three times more.

There were only eleven roses in the arrangement.

She shook her head, and pushed the flowers to the back of the counter against the mirror.

Unable to sort the whole thing out and make further sense of it, she double-checked the hotel room door lock, put it out of her mind, and went back to work on her presentation.

Around nine o’clock she realized her presentation was done. Sure, she could change up the font. Again. Or google some more images.

But as of right now, it was professional and comprehensive, but still entertaining. She saved it on her computer, on the cloud, and e-mailed a copy to herself.

The next morning, she got up early, ran five miles on the treadmill in her room, and took a long, hot shower after having eggs and fruit sent up for breakfast. She put on a black pencil skirt with a matching short jacket and an emerald camisole – to match her eyes.

She was focused and had her mind trained on her presentation as she went down to the conference area at the hotel. In order to get into the social mode, she went into the vending area where the other sales reps would be.

“There you are.” Adam, one of the reps from the Denver area pounced on her when she’d barely gotten in the door.

“Hey, Adam. I see you made it.”

Adam was always at the conferences. They had originally met in Chicago at a smaller conference, and he’d stayed in touch with Savannah throughout the years. They’d had drinks occasionally while at the conferences.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to my booth, but make sure you check out the STIM display back there.”

“I thought you were anti-STIM.”

“I am. They’re gonna steal our business. Mark my words. But in the meantime, they have a cool display.”

Savannah laughed. “I’ll check it out.”

Adam started to walk away. “Oh, hey, drinks tonight?”

“Not tonight,” she said. “We have that black-tie dinner thing.”

“Right.” He made a face. “Love those things.”

“Just part of the job, Adam.”

“Yep. Tomorrow night, then?” he asked, walking backward.

“Sure,” Savannah said absently. She never made casual commitments ahead of time at these things just in case she needed to be available for a business meeting. But she didn’t really consider Adam a commitment. She was sure he felt the same way.

A little later, she stepped into a crowded meeting room. Everyone, it seemed wanted to know about the unconscious thoughts of a sales rep. That’s what I get for having a catchy title.

Putting a smile on her face, she stepped into her extraverted role and began her presentation.

Everything went smoothly until a little over halfway through. “So as you can see from the next slide,” she said, “the mechanism of action isn’t all we worry about.”

The next slide elicited laughter from the audience. She had a cartoon up on the screen that had nothing to do with a drug’s mechanism of action. It was Sigmund Freud, himself, cigar in hand.

“However, back to busi–” She froze in midsentence.

Her eyes fell on a man she hadn’t noticed before sitting in the second row on the left. He had been hidden behind a couple of what looked to be young physician assistants. But this man was no doctor. She didn’t need her knack for classifying people to figure this one out. This man wore a smug grin that said I found you sooner than you thought. And I just caught you terribly off guard.

“Back to business,” she continued, deftly putting Noah Worthington out of her mind.

For a full two seconds.

After her presentation ended – exactly on time – several psychiatrists, two psychologists, and three other mental health workers came up, introduced themselves to her and wanted to further the conversation.

She found the enthusiasm of medical psychologists to be the most refreshing of all the medical professionals she had worked with. Medical psychologists used medications judiciously and effectively. They’re apt to try other things in addition to medication. Savannah liked that about them and they responded well to her nonjudgmental attitude to their methods.

Psychiatrists, on the other hand, tend to see non-medication interventions as a waste of time. Depending on who they’re speaking to, they may not come right out and say it, but medication is their only thing.

When the two psychologists asked to take her to lunch, she agreed, enjoying the twist of events. Usually, she was the one trying to take doctors to lunch to woo them into using her medications over another company’s. But the psychologists seemed genuinely interested in establishing a relationship with her and learning more about the drug business.

She soon learned that they were from Louisiana. The woman, middle-aged but looked Savannah’s age, was a newly licensed medical psychologist. The man, in his early sixties, was her business partner. Though he was not a medical psychologist, he actually had more experience in the medical field than the newly licensed medical psychologist did. They seemed to work well together and enjoy each other’s company.

As they left the presentation room, Savannah scanned the room for Noah, but he had disappeared. She had the fleeting thought that she had imagined him. She had only glimpsed him the one time, and then her view had been obstructed.

The psychologists took her to the hotel café and they had a pleasant lunch. Savannah was honest with them. She didn’t get to Louisiana often, but she could send an associate in the interim. She warned them that the associate would do her best to sway them to use their medications over those from other companies. They, however, seemed to expect this and weren’t alarmed.

They ordered cocktails, so Savannah ordered a mimosa, her standby lunch drink. She found it difficult to keep her attention on the psychologists, even though she considered herself on the job. The thought that Noah was out there and that despite insurmountable odds he had managed to locate her in New York was disconcerting to say the least. She hadn’t thought she would ever see him again.

But there he had been, sitting in the audience during her presentation. The knowledge that he had found her sent little shivers through her. Little shivers that she thought had been eradicated from her system.

There was also the anticipation that she was destined to see him again. Although she could have doubtless found him after the presentation, she had needed to work. And. . . she had needed time to process the fact that he was, indeed, here in her hotel.

She finished her lunch and excused herself from the couple of psychologists. They had one more presentation they wanted to catch, and then they were headed out to see the Statue of Liberty. She didn’t blame them. If she didn’t have obligations to be there, she would cut out, too. That was half the fun of going to conferences.

Not wanting to go back to her room just yet, she went to the courtyard and found a quiet place to respond to texts and e-mails. Her mother and sister had checked in. They had a bit of anxiety about her traveling alone, though she’d been doing it her whole career. Her sister had always been the overprotective older sister. And her mother was a retired school teacher, which pretty much summed things up in Savannah’s mind. Her mother had pushed her relentlessly until she’d left home. Then Savannah had continued to push herself. Now her mother insisted that Savannah works too hard.

It’s your, what, fourth or fifth time to New York? And you’ve never seen anything other than the inside of a hotel.

I happen to be sitting outside right now, Mom.

That doesn’t count and you know it. Go see the Statue of Liberty, go to the Empire State Building, go shopping, for goodness’ sake. You love shopping. And you’re in the shopping mecca.

Savannah sighed.

I will, Mom. I go shopping every time I’m here. In fact, I might even go today.

Good. Just be careful out there.

Love you, Mom.

There was a black-tie event tonight at the Art Institute. Although she had brought something to wear, it wouldn’t hurt to take a walk down Fifth Avenue.

She gathered up her bags and went back inside the crowded hotel, making her way toward the elevators. She had her smile back on her face and greeted several acquaintances along the way. She was looking forward to getting out of her heels and putting on some flats, at least until tonight.

As she reached the elevators and pressed the button, her smile faltered.

“Well, hello, Savannah Richards,” Noah said, pushing himself off the wall to step toward her. “Are you staying here, too?”

Her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. “You’re stalking me now,” she said.

He looked hurt. “I like to think of it more as. . . hunting.”

She laughed. “Is that what they’re calling it now?” She pressed the elevator button again.

“I’m always up for a challenge,” he said.

“I wasn’t challenging you, Noah. I was merely trying to. . . get away.”

“It sounded like a challenge to me,” he said, unable to hide the hurt on his face.

She sighed. “I’m actually rather impressed that you found me.”

“It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “Looks like you’re having a busy day.”

“Very.”

“So, since I’m here, and you’re here.” He put his hands in his pockets and joined her in staring at the elevator. “Do you want to go have coffee?”

Coffee. With the man who broke her heart twenty years ago. That was exactly what she wanted to do. “I’m actually on my way out.”

“Oh. I see.” Again, that crestfallen look.

“But,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I have a black-tie affair tonight at the museum – a work thing. I was planning to go by myself, but I wouldn’t mind having an escort.” The offer of a black-tie affair usually sent most men running in the other direction.

“Black-tie, huh? That happens to be my specialty.”

She narrowed her eyes, looking for the joke. Didn’t find it. “Great. I’ll meet you in the lobby at 7:00.”

 

Noah watched the doors of the elevator close and then turned away. He’d been loitering around the elevators so long that the security guard had questioned him. Apparently waiting for someone at the elevator was a questionable excuse for standing around at this hotel.

He had a ridiculous grin on his face. She had been on target. He had felt like a stalker standing at the elevators for nearly two hours. His perseverance had paid off, though. In a hotel this large with this many people wandering around, it would have been easy to lose track of her. It had been an anomaly that he’d seen her name online in the presentation program. After her presentation, she’d been swamped with what he thought of as fans and then swept off to lunch with some people.

Although he wanted to talk to her, he preferred to do it in private. Though they had kidded around about it, the last thing he wanted was for her to think of him as a stalker.

But now. . . she had invited him to be with her in public. That meant he didn’t embarrass her. She would have to introduce him. Spend hours with him.

There was just one problem.

He had to find a tux.

 

Savannah sat in the back of a taxi, locked in traffic. Tapping her foot. Tapping her fingers against her phone. She had taken far too long at the shops, but she had found the perfect dress for tonight. She didn’t need shoes – had a closet full. She liked basic pumps for all work and most social occasions and wore flats on days like today. Of course, she also liked boots. Boots were sort of her weakness, but they’re too big to travel with.

And added to that, she’d stopped in at a blow-dry bar to have her hair washed, blown, and styled, then she had her makeup done, and, finally, her nails. She’d chosen the mysterious look from a menu of makeup choices – smoky eyes, glossy lips. Her hair felt light, bouncy.

She should have just gotten dressed at the salon, she berated herself for the hundredth time. But her shoes were in her hotel room as well as her perfume. She checked the time on her phone, again, and took a deep breath. She had plenty of time to get back to the hotel, change, and get back downstairs.

I’ll be fashionably late.

Nonetheless, with the magic of the New York minute, she arrived at the door to her hotel with forty-five minutes to get to her room, change, and make it back to the lobby.

Rushing into her room, she threw everything on the bed, plugged in her phone for a quick charge, and checked on the roses. They were still there, and there were still only eleven of them.

With a little trill of girlish excitement, she unwrapped the black taffeta beaded gown with an off-the-shoulder bodice. Sequins crowded the bodice and dispersed along the waist becoming scattered on the skirt. Adding an elegant touch was a royal blue sash at the waist. The slit at the side was high – mid-thigh – giving the formal column dress an unexpected edge.

She spritzed perfume high into the air and walked through it. She adjusted the little diamond necklace she had bought herself last Christmas at Tiffany’s and stepped into her shoes. Then she checked the time. She had fifteen minutes to get downstairs. She grabbed her phone, tucked it into her handbag, and twirled in front of the mirror.

Black-tie events are important to my career. Not everyone gets to go.

She tried to ignore the other voice that reminded her that this one was different. She’d never taken a date.

It’s not a date.

She’d never taken an escort.

It’s Noah Worthington.

She laughed and told herself to just enjoy the moment.

When she stepped into the lobby, she immediately realized she should have been more specific when she said to meet in the lobby.

Air and water.

She found him near the waterfall, leaning against a column.

Her heart fluttered. She was again astounded that he was even more handsome than he had been twenty years ago. Their clothing couldn’t have matched more perfectly if they had tried. He wore a black tux with a white shirt and royal blue tie. Six feet tall, broad shoulders, trim, a smile that would melt any female heart, he was clearly the most handsome man in the crowded lobby. A lobby the size of a basketball court.

She could tell he had watched her look for him and felt the pink flush on her cheeks at his unwavering perusal.

He took a step forward; kept one hand in his pocket and one behind his back.

She returned his smile, and their gazes locked.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He took another step forward, brought a single long-stemmed red rose from behind his back. “To complete your set,” he said.

She looked at the rose. Looked back at him. Back at the rose.

Oh. My.

It all clicked together for her. The eleven roses in her bathroom. The rose in his hand.

He held the rose out to her.

Her fingers were trembling as she took it in her hands, avoiding the thorns. A white ribbon wound up the stem, and was tied into a bow. She sniffed it, her eyes misting. Squeezing her eyes closed, she steadied herself. She opened her eyes, her lips curving into a smile.

“Shall we make our way to the museum?” he asked, crooking his arm and holding it out to her.

She put her hand on his arm and followed him toward the front doors of the hotel. As they walked through the crowded lobby, people moved aside for them, but Savannah barely noticed them. She was ensconced in her own world with a handsome pilot, off to a black-tie gala at the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art. Not bad for a girl from Birmingham, Alabama, and a guy from Fort Worth.

Outside the hotel, the doorman hustled to hail a cab.

“Wait here for a second,” Noah whispered in Savannah’s ear.

He stepped up to the valet stand, spoke to the valet, and came back to her side. “Our car will be here in five minutes,” he said, waving off the taxi.

“We’re not taking a taxi?”

“Not tonight,” he said.

It was more than five minutes, but less than ten, when a sleek black limo pulled up to the curb. The valet appeared at the car, opened the door, and ushered them forward.

Settled into the back of the limo, Noah smiled.

“Nice touch,” she said.

“Can’t be riding around in a taxi dressed like this,” he said.

“I’m a little impressed,” she said.

“Then it was worth it.”

“I’m not easily impressed,” she said.

“I didn’t think you were. So, who are we meeting with tonight?”

“It’s hosted by one of the top five drug companies.”

“Big pharma.”

“None other.”

“Is this the one you work for then?”

“It’s crazy, but no. You might say I’m one of the competitor representatives.”

“That sounds like quite an honor.”

“It’s actually more like an obligation.”

Noah pulled a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket in front of them, filled two flutes, and handed one to her. “Here’s to obligations,” he said, touching his glass to hers.

“To obligations,” she said and sipped. This was a Noah that she didn’t know and she hadn’t expected. The Noah that she had known was a devil-may-care daredevil. He drove a black Mustang and wore white T-shirts. Though she knew him to be disciplined and hard-working, her memory had created an image of him as something of a bad boy.

Noah had never given her flowers, nor had he ever taken her to a gala in a limo while wearing a tuxedo. And he had certainly never given her champagne.

They had drunk beer on his boat on Lake Martin, wearing swimsuits and shorts.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

“I was remembering beer on Lake Martin. Wondering how we’d ended up drinking champagne in New York in what feels like the blink of an eye.”

“Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?” he asked.

“How did you find me?”

“You told me you’d be in New York.”

“How did you know I didn’t live here?

“I was betting on the come.”

“There you go with gambling references again.”

“It means I’m betting on the future.”

“I know what it means,” she said, sipping bubbles from her glass. “I’m not sure what it means in this case.”

“It means if you lived here, I never would have found you. But if you were visiting, you had to be staying at one of the hotels. And you were obviously here for some kind of business thing. From there, I looked for drug conferences.”

“It’s not really a drug conference.”

“Not exactly, no, which made it a bit more difficult.”

Before they could finish their conversation, the limo pulled up in front of the Met, and the driver opened their door.

Replacing the typical tourist crowd from daytime, the Met was overflowing with ladies dressed in formal evening gowns and men in tuxes. These were the business moguls of the drug companies, physicians, and representatives like Savannah.

And their dates.

Or escorts.

It was all semantics, Savannah mused as she walked up the steps with her hand on Noah’s arm. They could be perfect strangers, having met in the cab, but once they appeared together at the gala, they were automatically thought to be a couple.

Adam was the first person she recognized. He must have been watching for her. She ignored the little pang of guilt at not warning him that this time, unlike years before, she wouldn’t be sitting with him.

“Adam,” she said, “this is Noah.”

Noah and Adam shook hands; seemed to size each other up.

“Savannah didn’t mention she was bringing a date,” Adam said.

“I don’t think she knew until today,” Noah said.

“I see,” Adam said.

“Noah and I were friends in college,” Savannah stated.

“I see,” Adam said, seeming to bristle a bit. “Are you a doctor?”

“No, I’m a pilot.”

“Oh,” Adam said, and then was silent.

“Well,” Savannah said. “We should go inside. It’s about time for them to get started.”

“Of course,” Adam said, stepping aside.

Savannah and Noah went through the museum to the room set aside for tonight’s occasion. There were several small groups clustered around the room.

“We should really spend some time in here,” Noah said, as they passed several paintings.

Savannah glanced at him askance. “Really? You like art?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Who doesn’t?”

She shrugged and took a glass of champagne from a passing server. “Not a lot of free time,” she murmured.

He shifted to face her. “Are you telling me your life is all work and no play?”

She studied the bubbles in her glass. “I work a lot.”

“How long has it been?”

As her thoughts went places she typically didn’t think so much about, she felt her face flush. “How long?” she echoed thickly.

He beamed. “Since you had a date.”

She laughed.

“But we can talk about. . . the other if you want to.”

“Four years,” she said. “Four years since I had a boyfriend. And I haven’t dated really since then.”

“Haven’t dated much or at all?”

“You’re awfully inquisitive.” She turned her gaze to an abstract painting – splashes of black and white that resembled the work of a three-year-old.

“I want to know everything,” he said.

This time, she flushed in earnest. “My life is rather boring.”

He scoffed. “Your life has never come close to being boring.”

She bit her lip. A flurry of possible responses ran through her head. Before she could land on one of them, they were interrupted by Mr. Pence, CEO of one of the big drug companies hosting tonight’s gala.

“Miss Savannah Richards.” He greeted her with obvious enthusiasm, taking her hand. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Mr. Pence, I’d like you to meet my friend, Noah Worthington,” she said as she pulled her hand from his.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Are you a physician?”

“No, I’m not a doctor, I’m a pilot.”

“Oh,” Mr. Pence said, with an expression similar to the one Adam had worn upon hearing the news that Savannah had brought an outsider into their fold. “Well, then, this should be interesting to you.”

“It is interesting to see the inside of Savannah’s world.”

“She’s had a successful career,” Mr. Pence said.

“Hopefully you’re not putting me out to pasture yet,” Savannah said with a laugh.

“Absolutely not,” the older man said. “In fact, I should warn you, Mr. Worthington, that if you have designs on Savannah, we won’t let her go without a fight.”

“I wouldn’t think of taking her away from the thing she loves.”

“Good. Good,” Mr. Pence said. “Well, enjoy yourselves. There’s food in the next room.”

After he walked out of earshot, Savannah rolled her eyes. “Designs on me?”

“I think it shows great affection on his part to be worried about you.”

“Designs?”

“It’s cute,” he said. “Remember, he’s from a different generation.”

“Oh, I get that. But he made an awful lot of assumptions by you standing next to me.”

“You did introduce me as your friend,” he reminded her. “Come on, I’m starved.”

When they stood in front of the food display, he pinned his gaze to hers. “Just say the word. I’ll have you out of here and in a fancy restaurant.”

She shook her head and led him toward the other room. “As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think it’s a good idea. They would put me out to pasture for sure.”

He handed her a plate and stepped aside for her to go first. She put some cheese, a raspberry crepe, and some crab salad on her plate. He followed suit.

“I can get us in to a nice restaurant,” he said as they sat at an empty table, covered with a white tablecloth.

“This is just the appetizer,” she said.

He chuckled. “If you insist.”

Another of Savannah’s colleagues came up and hugged Savannah. She looked at Noah with a big smile.

“I’m a pilot,” he said, before she could ask.

“Oh. Wow,” the young woman said, glancing at Savannah.

“We’re friends,” Savannah said.

“Oh. OK. I thought. . .”

Noah laughed.

“We’ll talk later, Savannah,” the woman said and moved away.

“She thought I brought my pilot to dinner,” Savannah said under her breath.

“Actually,” Noah said, biting into a crepe. “It’s customary.”

“Customary?”

“It’s not unusual for people to bring their private pilots with them to things like this.”

Savannah tucked her hair behind her ears. “You work for the airline.”

“I do,” he said. “But they don’t know that.”

Savannah looked around the room. Many of the guests were wealthy, powerful people. She was a drug representative. Not really part of this world. Not on a day-to-day basis. Only during special events like this.

“They think I hired a private pilot.”

“That would be my guess,” Noah said, keeping his focus on her. “So, you can expect that they’ll look at you a little differently from now on. Unless, of course, you set them straight.”

Her lips curved into a mysterious smile. “I don’t know why I would do that. I rather like the idea of having my own private pilot.”

“That opens all sorts of doors in my head.”

She rolled her eyes at him but secretly enjoyed that he still had those doors he was willing to open for her.

“Have you thought about doing that?” she asked.

His eyes widened, and she had to quickly swallow her water to avoid spewing. “Let me rephrase that. Have you thought about hiring out as a private pilot?”

“I have thought about that,” he said.

“Well, have you ever done it?”

“Yes,” he said, but she could see the shutters close in his face. And she was not surprised when he changed the subject. “What do you want to do after this?” he asked.

“After the conference?”

“After the gala.”

“It’ll be late,” she said.

“You have an early morning?”

“Only if I want to. With my presentation over, I don’t really have any obligations.”

“Yet you’re staying until Tuesday.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably catch some workshops.”

“Savannah,” he said. “You do know the real reason people go to conferences.”

“To learn,” she insisted.

He rolled his eyes.

“And to network.”

“Those are good reasons. They also go to get away. To have fun.”

“I am having fun,” she said.

He smiled. “That’s good to know. Then perhaps you’d like to have some nonconference fun. Unless, of course, you can’t handle it.”

“Of course I can handle it.”

“Name one thing in New York that you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t done.”

“Easy. I’d like to go up the Empire State Building.”

“And. . . you’ve never done that.”

She shook her head.

“You do realize that’s the first thing people do when they come to New York.”

She shrugged. “I’ve never done it.”

“You’ve never been to the Statue of Liberty.”

She shook her head. “But. . .” she held up her hand. “I’ve been shopping on Fifth Avenue. In fact, I was there today.”

“That’s a relief. I was beginning to worry about you.”

“Now you’re making fun.”

“Nope. Now I know what I can do for you.”

“Ha.”

He grinned. “One of many things.”

The speaker, Mr. Pence, was at the microphone, and Savannah realized the room had filled and people were seated all around them.

Mr. Pence began talking as dinner was served. Savannah quickly regretted her decision not to duck out and go to that fancy restaurant Noah had offered. The food was bland and the speech predictable.

She leaned over and put her lips next to Noah’s ear. “Do you still want to get out of here?”

“Just say the word,” he said, turning toward her, his lips a hair’s breadth from hers.

Her heart stuttered as her gaze landed on his lips. Although she had kissed those lips hundreds of times before, it was as though she never had.

He was a different man now with twenty years between. Twenty unknown years. The disconnect was intriguing.

What would it feel like to kiss him? Would it be familiar or would it be brand new? She swallowed thickly. She lifted her gaze back to his and she was lost in those pools of blue.

Noah Worthington was an intriguing man. There was so much she knew. So much she didn’t know.

And, oh so very much that she wanted to know.

 

Getting her out was proving to be more difficult than he had expected. Savannah, unfortunately, was obligated to be here for work. If she boldly got up and walked out, she would be noticed. And judged.

Noah could do black-tie events in his sleep. Especially one where no one knew him, and he was free to sit in the background and observe.

That didn’t mean that he wanted to be here.

He wanted to be with Savannah, but preferably alone with her.

As Pence was wrapping up his speech, Noah took the opportunity to set their exit in motion. “When I say go, meet me out in front of the restrooms,” he said.

She nodded.

The applause started. “Now,” he said. And he was pleasantly surprised when she got up and made her way out of the room.

He waited a couple of minutes. Then followed her out.

She smiled sheepishly as they dashed out the front door of the museum. She waited while he had the limo brought around, her cheeks flushed a bit with excitement.

He couldn’t help staring at her. She was glowing.

And he was spellbound.

And honored that he had been the one to talk her into doing the thing that put that flush on her face.

He didn’t want to let her down.

Ever.

Again.

“Where are we going?” she asked, as the car pulled out into the traffic.

“It’s a surprise,” he said.

“I don’t like surprises.”

“I know. But you’ll like this one.”

She grinned at him; shook her head. “You haven’t changed one single bit.”

“And you’ve developed a mean streak,” he said with a feigned look of hurt.

She chuckled. “You have no idea.”

“You have my attention now,” he said.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes. He soaked in every angle of her face, every movement of her lips. Even after twenty years, she was perfect – better even than before – and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“You’re pretty,” he said.

She chuckled again, her face flushing. “You’re being silly.”

“It’s like that first day all over again.”

She stared back him and then, her lips curving into that sexy little confident smile that he loved, said “It is, isn’t it?”

The car stopped, and he helped her out, taking her hand. He didn’t let go as they went through the doors of the Empire State Building.

“Aren’t they closed?” She asked.

He led her to the ticket counter, bought two tickets, and went to the elevators, where there was a line. “They’re open,” he said. “And the best time to visit is at night.”

“Hmm,” she said.

They got into the elevator and started up. He watched the play of emotions on her face. The emotions she hid well. There was a bit of trepidation mixed with a bit of excitement as the elevator creaked and started up.

When they got out at the top, they went to the outside door and, stepped outside into the wind and darkness, high above the streets of New York.

She gasped. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” he said, keeping a firm hold on her hand as they stepped up to the railing.

“This is so beautiful,” she whispered.

“Come around here. Look at Central Park.”

They walked around, gazing at the busy life of New York far below them. The cool breeze picked up on the other side. She shivered.

He took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. With a look of gratitude, she slipped her arms in the sleeves and disappeared into his jacket which was much too big for her.

“Wouldn’t it be awesome to live here? So much energy,” she said.

“A far cry from the small town of Birmingham or Auburn.”

“There isn’t even a comparison.”

“Where do you live now?” he asked.

“Lake Martin,” she said.

She answered easily, not realizing the effect her words would have on him. They had spent countless hours there on the lake. The fact that she had chosen to make her home there almost caused him to come undone.

“You remember it, right?” she asked, focused on the city.

“Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat.

She turned and looked at him. Studied his face. “You’re surprised,” she said.

Noah felt a lump in his throat that threatened to send tears to his eyes. After all he had put her through, she was able to stay there, where they had been connected, and make her life.

“Noah,” she whispered, placing a hand on his cheek.

He sucked in his breath, determined not to allow his thoughts – his regrets – to overcome him now.

He put his hand over hers, smiled, wobbly as it felt, and squeezed as he enveloped her hand in his. They were mere inches apart. He moved forward and kissed her on the forehead.

Her eyes fluttered closed. He gently turned her, pulled her against him, and rested her back against his chest. His chin fit perfectly on the top of her head.

Just as he remembered.

Together, they stood and watched the traffic and the lights of the city below. Others, mostly couples, walked past, leaving them alone in their own little world.

He could feel her heartbeat against his chest. Or maybe he imagined it. Maybe it was his own heart beating. He could feel her warm breath against his hand as his arms were wrapped around her. She hesitated, but then rested her arms against his.

Noah could not have been more content in that moment.

He was in a beautiful place with the most beautiful girl in the world. There was no one else he could possibly want to be with.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, neither one wanting to move.

Then he heard a clock strike midnight, and she tensed against him.

“We should go,” she said.

He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. “Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?”

“Cinderella didn’t turn into a pumpkin, the carriage did,” she said.

“But something about the stroke of midnight. . .”

“Makes it feel like it’s all going to end.”

“It doesn’t have to end. She could have stayed with the prince instead of running off,” Noah said. He had never understood that.

“She couldn’t let him find out who she really was.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. He was already in love with her.” Noah pointed out.

“He only met her hours before,” she said.

“It happens.”

“But she couldn’t have known that.”

“She needed to have faith,” he said.

“Then there wouldn’t have been a story.”

“There was a story all right.”

She sighed. “A big part of the story was that he had to search for her.”

“It didn’t have to be that way, but you’re probably right,” he admitted. “Men often don’t

realize what they have until it’s gone.”

“You know this from experience?”

“No,” he said. “You’re right. We should probably go.”

He led her back to the elevators, and they traveled down in silence. She kept her hands hidden in his jacket. He stared at the numbers as the dial ticked downward.

He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to explain. He wanted her to understand.

But not now.

He wasn’t ready to break the spell.

He wasn’t ready to risk her rejecting him for what he had done.

He told himself that the damage had been done twenty years ago. If he told her the truth, would it only make things worse? He just wanted it all to be behind them.

He wanted to begin again.

 

Savannah knew the moment Noah retreated into himself. She kicked herself all the way down the elevator.

It was too soon to bring up the past.

They were just at the beginning of starting over. It would do no good to bring it all up again anyway.

They had to let it go if they were going to start over.

She just had so many questions. So many unanswered questions.

They couldn’t deny the unfinished business. It was part of who they were.

But she would give it time.

She would give it time because she liked who he was. Liked who they were together.

They got back to the hotel and went through the lobby, nearly deserted now.

At the elevators, she took his hand. Smiled at him. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Have breakfast with me,” he said.

She knew better than to try to understand his changing moods. “I plan to sleep through breakfast,” she said. “Remember, I turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”

He chuckled and pulled her against him in a hug. “Lunch then?” he asked, holding her elbows.

“All right. I’ll have lunch with you.”

The elevator door opened and they went inside. “Keep the rest of the day open, too. I have a surprise for you.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“I know, but you’ll love this one.”

They got off at her floor. She handed him the rose she had remembered to pick up from the seat in the limo and pulled her phone out of her handbag. “I’m here,” she said, when they got to her door. She held her phone to her door and it unlocked. He reached past her, opened the door, and stepped aside for her.

“Good night,” he said, handing the rose back to her.

“Good night,” she said, walking through the door, letting him close it behind her.

She stood staring at the closed door. Let the range of emotions wash over her.

This was a day she had never, ever expected. After twenty years.

In the span of mere days, she had accidentally run into her college sweetheart, set an impossible path for him to find her a second time in New York, and spent a fairytale evening with him.

She stepped out of her shoes and walked into the bathroom with her rose. She pulled the vase forward and slid the rose into the vase. Twelve roses now.

She smiled to herself at the romantic gesture.

Taking the roses into the bedroom, she placed them on the dresser. She sat on the edge of the bed and realized she still wore his jacket.

Taking it off, she pressed her face against it. And inhaled deeply.

She missed him.

How could she miss him already?

This was not a good sign.

He had told her two days ago that he wasn’t even divorced yet.

She groaned.

She wasn’t sure what it said about her, but she didn’t care. She wanted to spend time with him. She wanted to know the answers.

Twenty years ago he had gone back to visit his parents. He had called it a summons. He had evaded telling her much other than it was a business meeting with someone his father had known since childhood.

Three weeks later, he had graduated, packed up, and gone back to Fort Worth.

They hadn’t broken up. He’d said he’d call. That was before they had cell phones.

He hadn’t called.

She’d never even known if he made it home. She’d gone to the Internet to try to find news of an accident.

All she knew was that he lived with his parents in Fort Worth. Even though she’d met them once, knowing that their names were Martin and Mary Worthington didn’t help. She had looked, but she hadn’t been able to locate them online.

She’d gone about her summer – school and student worker job.

But she had grieved.

And buried herself in her studies.

She’d looked for him a few times over the years, but unsuccessfully. As far as she had been concerned, he had fallen off the face of the earth.

She wanted to know the answers.

Because she had never stopped loving him.

 

Savannah was up at seven the next morning. She jumped on the treadmill, and ordered room service – yogurt and granola today. She flipped through the conference program and found a couple of presentations that she had highlighted to possibly attend.

Instead, she indulged herself and ran a hot bubble bath. She replayed last night over and over in her head.

Found herself looking forward to the day. With Noah. Whatever it may hold.

She put on some jeans and a casual shirt, pulled back her hair, put on a pair of dark sunshades, and slipped out to the elevators.

After stopping by Starbucks for a grande vanilla latte with caramel drizzle, she went to the blow-dry bar around the corner. She had her hair washed and dried and her makeup done in what they called natural.

With it being Saturday morning, the blow-dry bar was packed. Whoever came up with the idea was an absolute genius and her credit card was fortunate that this New York indulgence hadn’t caught on in Birmingham. Sure, she could go to a salon, but that was typically for a haircut, too, and they didn’t do makeup.

After her morning of being pampered, she went back to the hotel and changed clothes three times. She decided against blue jeans and quickly ruled out a skirt and jacket.

She put on the red dress she’d originally brought for last night’s gala, added a little cardigan, put on the chunky red lace-up heels she had bought to match, and studied herself in the mirror.

The dress was a red jacquard flower print, with a high-low hem – just above her knees in the front and halfway down her calves in the back. The sales lady had said it could be dressed up or down. Since she had no idea what Noah had planned for the day, she thought the dress would work in any situation. She could always remove the cardigan for a dressier look for dinner.

She checked the clock and paced a bit. He hadn’t said what time he would be there to pick her up or even where they would meet.

It was ten to noon. She sniffed the roses, and fought back the panic that he wouldn’t show up.

What if he just didn’t? She had no way to contact him.

He won’t disappear again.

He had acted a little distant after she’d brought up the past, but then he’d asked her to spend the day with him.

If he stands me up, I won’t see him again.

Going to the window, she took deep, steadying breaths.

I shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble getting ready.

Feeling a little foolish, she located the remote and checked the weather. It was going to be a beautiful day.

If he’s not here by one o’clock, I’m going to walk around the city myself. She’d seen an interesting little restaurant around the corner that looked like a good lunch spot.

When he knocked on the door, she jumped and fumbled the remote.

She went to the door, confirmed that it was him, and opened it.

“Hi,” he said. “You look a little startled.”

“Do I?” She turned her anxiety into a bright smile.

“Yes, you do, but nonetheless stunning.”

“You look good,” she said. He was wearing khaki pants with loafers and a pale pink shirt, open at the collar. He wore a leather case hanging from a strap across his shoulders.

“I’m overdressed,” she said, biting her lip.

“You’re perfect,” he said. “Ready for lunch?”

“Starved.”

They fell into any easy rhythm going downstairs, and out onto the street.

He glanced at her shoes, “I’ll get a taxi.”

Once in the back seat, he gave the driver an address.

“What’s for lunch?”

He winked at her.

“I know,” she said. “It’s a surprise.”

He laughed. “You always were a quick study.”

“Yeah.” And I’ve always been a sucker for you.

They only went three blocks before the driver pulled up to the curb and they got out. Taking her hand, Noah led her to the door of a quintessential pizza parlor.

“Pizza,” she said, letting her guard down.

“This may be your third time to New York, but this time you get to really experience it.”

He was staring at her again, but she didn’t care. There was a line out the door, but she didn’t care.

He was right. She’d never had New York pizza.

As they stood in line, he asked, “Exactly what have you done during your time in New York?”

“Let see. . . I’ve ridden the subway. I’ve been to the Met, obviously. And I’ve been shopping on Fifth Avenue. Oh. And I discovered blow-dry bars.”

He gave her an odd look. “Blow-dry bars?”

She laughed. Swirled her hair.

“Ah. Haircut.”

“Not a cut, just a blow-dry.”

He ran a hand through her hair. “Nice,” he said. “OK, so shopping, art museum, and hair.”

“And subway.”

“Right. And art isn’t really your thing.”

“I don’t dislike it.”

“There’s a big difference between liking something and disliking it.” He unzipped his case and pulled out his iPad.

“Ah,” she said.

“Ah what?”

“Ah, I wondered what you had in there.”

“A pilot is never without his iPad.”

“Really? We use iPads, too, for medications.”

“Then you understand.”

“Yeah, but I’m not working right now.”

“A pilot is always on call.”

“Always?”

“Pretty much. Yeah.”

He made a few clicks on his iPad. “Done,” he said.

“Work?”

“Not this time,” he said with a wink.

“Personal?”

“Part of your surprise.”

 

Noah had to make some last minute adjustments in his plan. The weather had been perfect for the Staten Island Ferry and the Statue of Liberty, but Savannah had come out wearing something looking more like an evening dress and heels than something for walking around as a tourist. He would ask her to wear jeans and flats tomorrow. But not yet. She had obviously put a lot of detail into today’s attire.

And he was enjoying it far too much to ruin it for her.

After cheese pizza, they hopped back in a taxi and went to Broadway.

She didn’t even ask where they were going.

Instead, she wore a look of eager anticipation. He considered that a huge step for someone who didn’t like surprises.

The taxi dropped them at the door to the Majestic Theater. The Phantom of the Opera house. Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“We have tickets for the two o’clock showing.”

She beamed.

“Since you don’t like surprises,” he said. “I’ll go ahead and tell you the plan so you know what to expect. After this, we’ll have drinks at the Rainbow Room followed by dinner.” That part of his plan, at least, they could keep.

She put her arm on his, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Once they had made their way to their seats, he took her hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “About last night.”

“What do you have to be sorry about?”

“You asked me a question I wasn’t ready to answer. I didn’t want to ruin the mood. But I owe it to you to answer questions you might have. And I will. I’ll tell you what happened tonight.”

“I should be the one apologizing. You obviously weren’t ready to talk about it. Whatever it was that happened, I’m sure you had a good reason. Anyway, I don’t want to ruin the mood, either.”

“Sounds like we’re on the same page. When you’re ready to know, I’m ready to tell you.”

“That means a lot.”

Noah preferred a good movie with a storyline he could understand to singing he couldn’t. But halfway through, Savannah was moved to tears. He had to admit that the special effects were quite impressive.

“What do you think?” she asked at intermission.

“I don’t dislike it,” he said.

She laughed.

“If you want to stretch your legs, I’ll buy us a drink.”

A few minutes later, they returned to their seats with glasses of red wine.

“This should make it much better,” he said.

She shook her head. “Only spoken by the guy from Fort Worth.”

“What can I say? We had rodeos, not operas.”

After the play, they went to the Rainbow Room for drinks as he had promised. Savannah ordered a cosmopolitan – with olives – and he ordered a Crown on the rocks.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said.

“I never once imagined us here.”

“I knew our paths would cross again.”

That elicited that look again. The one that said perhaps he should be on an antipsychotic medication.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I would have looked you up. And you have to admit I’m a pretty good detective.”

“You did find me in New York. And I am impressed by that. But I gave you enough clues. Do you know how hard it is to find someone without clues?”

“You could have found me.”

“Really? Tell me how.”

“You knew I was from Fort Worth. You knew my parents’ names – unless you forgot, which is quite natural. And you knew I was a pilot.”

“Actually, that wasn’t enough.”

“No?”

“No. I looked for you.”

“It’s OK,” he said. “It wasn’t your job to find me. It was my job to find you.”

“Anyway,” she said, tipping the lime into her glass and sliding an olive off the toothpick into her mouth. “I’ve always had a gut feeling that it had something to do with the summons from your father that weekend.”

“The summons.”

“Am I right?”

“You are exactly right.”

“What was it about?”

He stirred his drink.

“You said you’d answer. But if you don’t, it’s OK.”