“Miss Smith! Miss Smith!”
Glad she was no longer Mrs. Hogsten to these people, she turned to see the desk clerk closing in on her fast. Pink message slips fluttered in his hand. “We’ve been looking for you all day,” he said as he thrust the stack at her.
She started to roll her eyes, but caught the anxious look on the clerk’s face. All the languor vanished as adrenaline rushed through her veins. “What? What’s happened?”
“There’s been an accident, Miss Smith. It’s very important you call home immediately.”
He was early, he knew that, but Ally didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would mind. She was just lucky Victor and Mickey had greeted him with a litany of problems with the Circe’s repairs and a Must Call message from his grandfather when he’d returned to the marina last night, because he’d been sorely tempted to turn right back around and join her for that shower. And, of course, sleep would have been out of the question after that.
Instead he’d spent the evening sorting out the Circe’s issues and placating his grandfather. But things were back on track and Ally was now foremost in his thoughts.
Sweet, delicious, tempting Ally.
A few phone calls and he’d borrowed the Siren, a sixty-foot cruiser with every amenity—most importantly, a plush captain’s cabin. The mental picture of Ally stretched across those sheets was enough to quicken his step. Siren was stocked with food and wine and ready to sail. They’d moor off Virgin Gorda tonight, maybe go snorkeling in Devil’s Bay tomorrow. He knew of a great secluded trail up from the beach…
His attraction to Ally was a bit of a mystery, but that combination of sweetness and sensuality was both intoxicating and refreshing, and had lifted a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. Victor and Mickey had teased him about his uncharacteristically good mood, something they said they hadn’t seen since the America’s Cup win three years ago.
In response, he’d left them to replace decking and caulk seams today.
The lobby of the Cordova Inn was deserted, and in the light of day, he noticed how shabby the hotel really was. Ally needed to fire her travel agent for booking her into a place like this. Ally’s room wasn’t far off the lobby—another thing her travel agent should have handled better—and he could see the door standing open.
Good. She’s ready to go.
“Pack a toothbrush and a change of clothes, because we won’t be back…” Ally’s room was empty, the bed stripped of its sheets. A maid came out of the bathroom carrying an armload of towels and started in shock at seeing him there.
“Where’s the woman who was in this room?”
“I don’t know, sir. I just know to clean the room for the next—”
Chris didn’t wait to hear the rest. In a few quick strides, he was back at the front desk, asking the clerk the same question.
“Miss Smith checked out.”
“Yes, I can see that,” he gritted out. “Where did she go?”
“Home, sir.”
“Why?” He really didn’t want to play Twenty Questions with the clerk, but the young man wasn’t being very forthcoming with answers.
“There was an accident. Her brother, I think the message said. We helped her arrange emergency flights, and I put her in a taxi to the airport myself this morning at six.” He seemed pleased with himself. Apparently Ally could bring out the Lancelot in every man.
“Has her flight left yet?”
“Yes, sir. The first flight to San Juan left at seven-thirty.”
He cursed, and the clerk’s eyes widened.
“However, if you are Mr. Wells, Miss Smith left a message for you.” At Chris’s nod, he passed over a folded piece of hotel letterhead.
Chris—
I’m so sorry to leave in such a rush, but there’s been an emergency and my family needs me. I wish I could say goodbye in person, but the taxi is waiting and my flight leaves in an hour. Thank you for a wonderful day yes-terday—it was possibly the best day of my life. Meeting you was the high point of this trip, and I really wish I could stay longer. Take care. I hope you and the Circe have wonderful adventures together. Love, Ally.
That was it? No phone number? No e-mail address? Not even a “look me up if you ever come to Savannah”? All that was missing was “Have a nice life.”
His good mood evaporated. Ally had left without even saying goodbye.
WELL, THAT WAS UNPLEASANT. Not the best way to start a Monday, either. Ally leaned on the sink and took a deep breath. Then she grabbed the toothbrush she’d learned to bring to work with her and brushed her teeth. Wiping the moisture from the corners of her eyes, she was glad she’d switched to waterproof mascara last week.
“Look, Kiddo, I’ll make you a deal. You let me keep my breakfast and I’ll give you a new car when you turn sixteen, okay?” Another wave of nausea had her leaning against the bathroom door taking shallow breaths until it passed. “No deal, huh? Your loss.”
Turning off the light, she opened the door to the office she shared with her friend and business partner. Molly stood waiting with a peppermint and a bottle of water.
“Seriously, now. How much longer is this going to go on?”
Ally took both offerings gratefully. The peppermint helped settle her stomach these days. “According to all the books, about six more weeks if I’m really lucky.” She sank into her desk chair and rested her head on her hands.
“You’re kidding me, right? Six more weeks of listening to you yak up your toenails every morning?” Molly’s pixie face wrinkled in an amusing mixture of concern and disgust.
Ally sipped at her water cautiously, but the nausea had gone as quickly as it had come. “So sorry to inconvenience you, Molls.”
“It’s not that. I’m just worried.”
Ally sighed. Snapping at Molly made her feel as if she’d kicked a puppy. “I know, and I’m sorry to be so witchy this morning. Dr. Barton says this is normal. Unpleasant, but still well within the range.”
It was Molly’s turn to sigh. “‘Unpleasant’ is an understatement.”
“You’re not wrong about that.” Six weeks to go? Between the sickness in the mornings and the unbelievable fatigue that set in around three o’clock, this first trimester wasn’t going well at all.
“Can I get you anything? Crackers? A soda?”
“Just help me find the Miller paperwork. I swear, this baby has stolen all my brain cells.”
Molly casually tapped a folder sitting just left of Ally’s elbow. “By the way, I talked to the landlord. He said we can have that storeroom for just a little more each month. I thought you could move your desk back there along with the baby’s stuff, and we’ll put a conference table out here to meet with clients.”
Tears gathered in Ally’s eyes. After the initial shock of Ally’s announcement had passed, Molly had gone into “prep mode,” never once questioning her decision to keep the baby, focusing instead on how they’d work out the logistics. Ally sniffed and reached for a tissue. Seemed she could check “overly emotional” on her list of symptoms, as well.
Thank goodness for Molly. She’d be a wreck without her.