PROLOGUE
Lisa Reisert stared at the droplets of rain as they rolled down the Taxi's window, silently wishing she could stretch and fall asleep. They represented everything she was: sad, lost in a sea of commonness, luminescent, bending. She was surprised she hadn't fallen over from exhaustion already. The last couple of weeks had been hell; absolute, abject, hell.
On top of her grandmother's funeral, advising her frantic in command, getting scalded by cheap coffee, and an encounter with a pushy executive, she had experienced a near nervous breakdown; she was ready to pass out. It was uncharacteristic.
And then she met him. It shocked her how much attraction she felt towards the handsome stranger with striking blue eyes. Intelligent, kind, handsome; he was everything she looked for in a man. Or at least he was everything she had looked for in a man, until two years ago.
So when he asked her to join him for a drink, she was even more shocked at her inability to accept, let alone think up a decent excuse.
His eyes had shown his disappointment. It was endearing.
Then she saw him at the bar. Her heart somehow went out to him. There he was, sitting perfectly alone, just as she was, looking extremely bored. Oh, how she ached to relieve him of being alone.
Soon she found her feet walking to the stool next to him; her body sliding into the seat. They exchanged polite, if somewhat personal, conversation. The only thing marring the picture was his dead-on guess of her choice of drink and comment on the demise of his parents. Ninety minutes they spent, talking. Soon, the flight was announced.
She walked resolutely to the entrance, somewhat distressed that she would more than likely never see him again.
Seeing him in the seat next to her assigned one was like a ray of hope. It scared her. It scared her to the point of creating a strong desire to run.
Against her wishes, she hoped he felt the same way, even if to a lesser degree. What she didn't know, was that his feelings exceeded her own.
Chit-chat commenced again. All was well. Her heart hammered in her chest every time he glanced her way. She noticed everything: the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way he contemplated whatever he happened to be looking at, and the way he leaned toward her when he couldn't quite catch what she was saying, instead of telling her to speak up.
Somehow, she found herself in the tiny bathroom, wrapped in his arms, body flush against his. It felt like breathing; coming up for air.
They walked out, hand in hand, back to their seats. They sat facing each other, talking some more. Then he glanced at his watch; his expression changed. When he looked up at her, his eyes were somehow guilty.
He started asking about her dad. She found it odd. Not long after that, his true intent and purpose slid from his lips.
And her heart stopped.
Literally.