“I noticed your fingers gripping the armrests, and the plane hasn’t moved.”
She jerked her hands away and folded them into her lap. After a moment she dug into her purse and pulled out the book she’d been reading but gave up a few minutes later because she couldn’t seem to concentrate. Maybe she’d work one of the crossword puzzles.
After another prolonged silence—were they ever going to leave the terminal?—Jodie asked, “How long is the flight, do you recall? I’ve forgotten what the reservations said.”
“About thirteen hours, depending on a headwind. We change planes in Los Angeles.”
“Oh.”
“We should reach Maui by midafternoon local time.”
“But we’ll still be on Midwest time.”
“True.”
Well, she’d exhausted all her skills at social chitchat with him. Jodie picked up the airline magazine and began to thumb through it.
After what felt like hours, the plane finally taxied out to the runway for takeoff. Then it stopped. The captain apologized for the delay. There were nine jets ahead of this one. Great. That gave her plenty of time to rethink this whole idea.
Dean cleared his throat. “Jodie?”
She’d just peered out the window again. “Yes?”
“I’m a little embarrassed to mention this after you’ve worked for me so many years, but I really don’t know much about you besides your work ethic, which is outstanding, and your determination to get your degree, which is admirable. I’d like to learn more about you. Why don’t we use this time to get acquainted?”
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to talk right now. I need all my concentration once we’re ready for takeoff to make absolutely certain the plane’s wings are firmly attached.” After all, there was a lot of thrust by the jet engines, and everyone knew that takeoffs and landings were the most dangerous times during a flight. Unless they happened to fly into the side of a mountain. They had to cross the Rockies, didn’t they?
Or if they went down over water…say, maybe the Pacific Ocean?
“Jodie?” She jerked her head away from the window and looked at him inquiringly.
“We’re perfectly safe, you know.”
“Of course we are,” she promptly agreed. “As long as we sit here on the runway.” She glanced back out the window to continue to check the wings.
Dean made some kind of noise that sounded as if he was either choking or coughing. She looked back at him in concern. His lips were compressed and he wore a frown. His shoulders shook and suddenly, like Mount St. Helens, he erupted into laughter.
Laughter? She had rarely seen him smile, much less heard him laugh, and she stared at him in amazement. What a difference it made in him. He looked much younger than his thirty-eight years. Who would have believed it?
He immediately attempted to quell the sound, but then he looked at her again, recognized her bemusement, shook his head and continued to laugh—a deep-throated sound that finally made her smile.
He reached for his handkerchief and wiped his eyes, blew his nose and finally, after what seemed like forever, managed to stop.
But he continued to smile and she still hadn’t recovered from the change in him. Dean was smiling and, miracle of miracles, his face hadn’t cracked into a thousand little pieces. Who would have believed it?
“Care to share the joke?” she asked. She smiled her pleasure at this unexpected peek into the man she thought she knew so well.
He touched her arm and slid his hand down, lacing his fingers between hers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed at your nervousness. You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”
“From your lips to God’s ear,” she muttered.
He chuckled again. He was certainly getting a great deal of amusement out of her fear of flying. Then again, maybe it was worth it to see that the man had a human side. A decidedly masculine side at that.
The brackets around his mouth had revealed dimples. She bet he hated them.
In fact, the man bore little resemblance to her stone-faced boss. Same hair and eyes, same strong jaw, and yet with his silver-blue eyes sparkling and his teeth flashing he was actually handsome.
Okay, she was losing it. When she looked at Dean Logan and saw a handsome man she knew she’d lost her grip. Fear could certainly do crazy things to a person’s perceptions.
“I was born in Indiana,” he said in a casual voice as though answering her question. “Came to Chicago to attend Northwestern and never left. How about you?”
She cleared her throat. “We’re from Wisconsin originally.”
“Who is we?”
“Mom, my three brothers, my sister and me. My parents got married way too young, but they were in love and didn’t want to wait until after they finished school to get married. My brother came along not long afterward, and Dad dropped out of college to get a job. He took good care of all of us, but I think he pushed himself too hard for too many years and he died of a heart attack when he was forty-five.
“Mom had to get a job but had trouble finding one since she’d never worked before. Without training or an education, it was tough going for her. She ended up as a waitress. Both Mom and Dad really stressed the importance of an education when we were growing up. All three of my brothers worked their way through college so they could take care of her.”
“Where does your family live?”
“All over the place. Mom’s in Phoenix. That’s where they lived when Dad died. One of my brothers is an attorney in Oregon, one is career Navy and based out of Bremerton, Washington, and one lives just outside of D.C. doing who knows what. If anyone asks, he says, ‘I work for the government’ in a vague way and changes the subject. My sister, Lynette, and I live here in Chicago.”
“Do any of them have children?”
She smiled. “Chuck and Lynette have two boys and a brand-new baby girl. The boys are pleased as little boys can be that they have a baby sister. My sister had two miscarriages before Emily came along.”
“Are any of your brothers married?”
“Not a one. Too busy with work or too busy playing the field.” She waited, and when he didn’t ask any more questions, she said, “It’s your turn. Tell me about your family.”
She wasn’t sure at first that he was going to answer her, but eventually he said, “My mother lives in a nursing home here. I had an older brother, but he and my dad were out on Lake Michigan at the wrong time years ago. A storm blew up and they didn’t make it back.”
“How awful. How old was your brother?”
“Twelve. I was eight and had a cold, so my mother wouldn’t let me go with them.” He looked away. After two or three minutes he added, “I haven’t talked about them in years.”
She wondered about the emotional scars he carried from that time. No doubt he’d been upset, probably angry, that he didn’t get to go. Then to lose them like that. Survivor’s guilt probably played a part. She knew him well enough not to say any more by way of sympathy for his loss.
“Why aren’t you married?” he asked bluntly.
She looked at him in surprise. “Isn’t that a rather personal question to ask?”
“Probably. But if I’m going to drag out all my personal stuff, I figure you can, too.”
“Mmm. I don’t think it’s quite the same, unless you want to discuss why you’re not married.”