Tally's bedroom looked like a bomb had hit it.
She had hastily gathered up all her computer disks and research materials and shoved them out of sight under the bed, but now all available surfaces were covered once again – piled high with what looked like every piece of clothing and jewelry and every pair of shoes she owned. In the middle of it all, a frazzled, nervous Tally was trying on what felt like the 112th combination.
She looked at herself in the mirror, and made a face. No. Back to the drawing board.
Shit, she thought, glancing at her watch, seven thirty. He's going to be on his way here any minute.
Shit, he thought, glancing at his watch, seven-thirty. I have to go pick her up any minute.
He checked himself in the mirror absently, not really seeing what he was looking at. His mind was on Tally and the way he had felt when he saw her again just a short while ago. God, she was beautiful…the soft honey-gold of her hair, the curve of her cheek, her expressive sea-green eyes…
He shook his head at himself in wonder…he barely knew this woman, and yet every time he saw her, the need to reach out and take her in his arms grew stronger and stronger. He had come so very close to giving in to that overwhelming feeling when he was leaving her apartment, and only his ingrained sense of what constituted good behavior, not to mention his sincere desire not to blow it with her, had held him back. And now he was going to spend the entire evening with her…
What the hell am I doing? His gut churned suddenly. It was beginning to dawn on him that he was getting in over his head here. This wasn't a casual date, or a weekend fling. This was someone he wanted to get to know better. He wanted to spend time with her, to talk to her, find out all about her. He wanted to know what she liked, what she didn't like, what her favorite color was, what she ate for dinner…what she ate for breakfast…
He stared unhappily at his reflection, thinking about the one huge, insurmountable obstacle that stood between them. She already knew he was International Rescue, so he couldn't pull the "I used to be in the air force and now I design aircraft for the Tracy Corp." routine with her, the way he had so many other times, with other women. She knew the truth, and that created a monumental security hazard that effectively gave him no way to take this any further. He couldn't have a relationship with this girl – it wasn't possible.
Which meant he couldn't go back there tonight. He just couldn't.
He had to do what was right. For International Rescue, for the safety of his family – if not for himself.
He sagged into a chair, eyes falling reluctantly on the vidphone beside the bed.
Tally was finally happy with her choice – a sea-blue silk sheath dress that was almost the same color as her eyes, elegant and just sexy enough without being overt. Her hair was softly upswept, held by a single clasp, her jewelry gold and very simple.
She paused, feeling the butterflies stir again in her stomach as she thought about Scott. She had never been this affected by a man before in her life. Not even her first love, a fierce but unrequited passion at the age of fifteen for the quarterback of her high school's football team, had been able to make her pulse race like this, her body feeling as if it was melting down and fusing together whenever he was around. Every time she looked into Scott's eyes she felt like she was falling into them, drowning in the need to reach out, to touch him, to hold him. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him…
The almost overwhelming feeling made her suddenly angry. Christ, Tally, don't be so stupid. You're not twelve, and he's not some prince coming to rescue you from your enchanted tower. She sat down hard on the edge of the bed. She had to do better than this. She couldn't blow it, not now, not when she was so close to everything she'd worked so hard for. You're on the job tonight, so think like a reporter. This is your big chance to get him to really open up. He's just a guy. And guys suck, remember? And in any case, you've gotta face it – this one is way too good to be true. A looker like that? You've got to be kidding. He's probably got someone like you in every major city in the world. They get around, that International Rescue bunch.
She thought deliberately about Mason. Then she thought about Richard. And then she thought about the rest of the long line of men who had let her down and stomped on her heart.
There. That was better. Back in control again.
The vidphone rang. She walked over and picked up the receiver. "Hello." She listened, her face falling. "Oh," she said, disappointment clear in her voice. "I see… No, really…I understand. Maybe next time…"
The door buzzer made her turn toward the living room. "I've got to go… No, Mother, it's not the pizza guy…my date is here. Yes, my date… Hello? Mother?"
She smiled to herself as she replaced the receiver and crossed to buzz Scott into the building. Mother, if I'd known it was that easy to get you off the phone, I'd have tried that trick years ago…
Scott had tried to call her from the Tracy penthouse, but he couldn't tell her like that, not over the vidphone. He had to see her in person, had to find a way to explain to her that this couldn't be, was never meant to be. On the way to her apartment he ran the facts through his mind a thousand times, reasoning that she was an intelligent person, she'd get it. She'd understand. By the time he arrived, he finally thought he was ready.
Then she opened the door, and the sight of her took his breath away all over again. "You look beautiful," he said softly.
Tally felt the flush warm her cheeks. "You like it? Because I can always put the sweatshirt back on…"
"Oh, no," he said hastily. "This is much…better."
"Thank you. You look pretty spiffy yourself, by the way. Armani is definitely your color."
"This old thing?" he grinned. "Where's your coat?"
Outside the building, he led her to the sleek black Mercedes parked at the curb. He held the passenger door open for her, and she slipped into the luxurious leather seat as he closed the door again and came around to the driver's side. She watched as he pulled the powerful car away from the curb, handling it with almost subconscious ease. "Nice car. Funny, though, I could have sworn you'd show up in something red and shiny."
He glanced at her. "Really?"
"Well, you do fly a rocket," she pointed out with a smile. "A pretty big one, too."
"Yep," he grinned. "I guess I work it all out in the air."
Tally laughed. "So, no compensation necessary?"
"None whatsoever, I promise you." Their eyes met for a moment and her mouth went dry at the heat in his expression.
She wrenched her eyes away and stared out at the traffic streaming by in the other direction, headlights like white diamonds against the night. "So," she said finally. "What brings you into town?"
"Company business," he said. "Meetings to go to, papers to sign, you know."
She smiled at the twist of his mouth. "Even International Rescue has to go to eight-thirty a.m. meetings, huh?"
He grinned. "Believe it or not. We all have to take turns. Our…boss thinks it's good for us to see the other side of things occasionally."
"You sound like it's not exactly a labor of love."
"This part? No. I'm not so good at the behind-the-desk stuff. I can't wait to get home."
"I could ask you where that is," she said lightly, "But I don't suppose you'd tell me."
He shook his head. "No."
"Well, here's an easy one. Where are we going?"
"Mademoiselle Takata's. I hear it's pretty popular."
"You got reservations at Mademoiselle Takata's?" Tally was impressed despite herself. "That's pretty tough. My boss can't even get them, and he's…"
She trailed off, catching herself just in time. "Connected," she finished.
Scott didn't seem to notice her hesitation. "You mean, connected, or connected?" he asked, saying the last one with a bad impression of a Sicilian accent.
Tally laughed. "I didn't know Groucho Marx was Italian."
Scott rolled his eyes. "Well, I haven't tripped over any violin cases in his office yet," she continued. "So I'm guessing the former. He just knows a lot of people."
"What does he do, your boss?" he asked.
Her mouth quirked. "You mean, what do I do?"
He flicked a glance at her, caught. We're both fishing, she realized.
She thought carefully before responding. "I work for a publishing house. Mostly copy editing work right now. Lots of long hours and weekends. But hopefully it'll lead to something better, eventually."
"You want to be a writer?"
"Yes," she said, surprised at his intuition, happy to realize that she didn't have to fabricate this part, at least. Despite her experience as a reporter, she felt very bad about lying to this man, and the feeling wouldn't go away no matter how hard she tried. "Since I was a kid. When the other kids were drawing pictures in kindergarten, I was writing stories with my crayons. I couldn't draw worth a damn anyway."
"Neither could I," he grinned. "I do great stick-figures, though."
She sighed. "I always envied people who could draw. It must be amazing to be able to look at something beautiful and reproduce it on paper."
His eyes were on her reflection in the windshield. "Yeah," he said softly.
She glanced around at his tone, but his eyes were already back on the road. "One of my brothers inherited most of the artistic talent in the family," he said. "He's so talented… I'm in awe of him sometimes, the things he can do."
"Big family?" she asked.
"Kind of," he nodded, but he didn't elaborate. She let it rest for now, careful not to push too far, too soon. They had the whole night ahead of them.
Moments later, they were pulling up at Mademoiselle Takata's. Scott handed the car over to the valet and they hurried inside out of the bitter cold.
Scott helped her out of her coat, Tally watching as his eyes swept the foyer. She got the impression he was taking a quick inventory, checking where everything was. She wondered suddenly if there was ever a time when he wasn't on alert, when the guard was down and he was able to just relax.
He gestured for her to wait a moment and he stepped forward to speak with the Maitre d'. Tally saw the man's face change from the usual studied indifference to impressed attention, straightening up visibly. He nodded and took them into the main room himself, leading them straight to a very private, premium table. A waiter appeared as if by magic, bearing champagne. He showed the bottle to Scott, who nodded. The waiter popped the cork and poured the glasses, then discreetly withdrew.
"Mademoiselle Takata's, a VIP table and instant Veuve Cliquot?" Tally raised her eyebrows. "You must be blackmailing somebody."
"Naah. I eat here all the time. The owner, what's-his-name, he's almost family."
"She's almost family," she corrected. "Unless… That's it, isn't it – Mademoiselle Takata is really a guy!"
"Shhh," Scott grinned. "It's supposed to be a secret."
Tally took a sip of her champagne. "Mmmm," she said. "You even picked a good year. Are you real?"
She meant it as a joke, but their eyes met and it happened again, that feeling deep inside that she was losing herself. She tried to take a deep breath but her lungs wouldn't inflate.
He broke it first this time, taking a quick gulp of champagne. He looked around the restaurant as if really seeing the décor for the first time. It was aggressively modern and rather cold, predominately black and gray with the occasional splash of red – dotted with intermittent clumps of oddly tortured-looking ikebana. To Scott, the stark, twisted arrangements looked like something left behind after a nuclear explosion.
A waiter passed close by with a plate of something that was completely unrecognizable. Tally saw Scott's expression as he watched it go by. "Not a fan of Franco-Japanese nouvelle cuisine, huh?"
"Franco-Japanese nouvelle… What the heck is that?"
Tally grinned inwardly. Mr. International Rescue wasn't quite the smooth operator he had appeared to be, obviously. "You made reservations, and you didn't even know what kind of food they serve here?"
He stared at her, caught. "Well, I, ah, I didn't actually make the reservations myself…"
"Uh-huh." She kept her face serious, enjoying his discomfort.
Scott's mouth twisted. "I had my…a friend make them. I'm not in town often enough to know what's "in" this week," he added defensively. "I wanted…"
She smiled, letting him off the hook. "I think it's sweet."
"Huh?"
"Oh, God," she interrupted him. Another waiter was passing nearby, and she was staring at the dish he was carrying with a kind of restrained revulsion.
She caught the waiter's attention, indicating the plate. "Excusez-moi," she asked, "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"
"Calamari a la pêche, mademoiselle," the waiter informed her in a slightly irritated tone, as if surprised at her display of ignorance.
Tally tried unsuccessfully to hide her dismay. "Oh, dear. And is that squid ink pasta?"
The look on Scott's face was priceless. "I've got a brother who likes this stuff, and even he wouldn't eat that."
The waiter regarded him disdainfully. "I'm sure he wouldn't, m'sieur."
He was gone before Scott realized he'd been insulted. "Well, how do you like that?"
Tally was hiding her face behind the menu, shoulders shaking with the effort of suppressing her amusement. "Oh, no," she said suddenly.
"What?"
"He wasn't making it up. It's right here. And listen to this…they flambé it at your table in a fine rice wine…"
Scott tried heroically to hold back the laughter. "Well, that's gotta improve it, right?"
Tally snorted. "And by the way, just to make your dining experience complete, the chef recommends an appetizer of saumon cru à la mousse d'avocat avec…ew!"
Scott's French took a moment to catch up. "Salmon in avocado mousse…"
"…On a bed of shitake mushrooms…in snail butter!" She managed to finish before dissolving into peals of helpless laughter that drew stares from the tables in the vicinity.
"Oh, God," Scott choked, "Don't tell me…they flambé that at your table, too…"
"They couldn't possibly," she spluttered, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. "The fumes would wipe out everyone in a fifty-foot radius!"
"You'd better be careful," he grinned, nodding in the direction of the disdainful waiter, who was watching them from across the room. "Napoleon Bonaparte over there will spit in your squid ink spaghetti."
"Oh, Scott," she gasped, trying to get her breath. "I'm so sorry, I know you put yourself through all this just for me, but I can't eat this stuff…"
"Oh, thank God," he said fervently. "Do you want to get out of here?"
"Yes, please," she said.
As soon as they were back in the car they fell apart all over again. Scott laughed until his sides hurt. "Did you see that guy's face? The one at the front desk?"
She nodded. "We'll never be able to go back in there. They'll have us on the persona non grata list forever."
"Well, you did tell them their snail butter needed more garlic," he pointed out.
"No, I said it needed more saki," she corrected. "You've been around jet engines too long – your ears are shot."
"Probably," he grinned.
"So," she said, calming down at last and glancing around her. "What now?"
Scott shrugged. "I took my best shot. Now it's your turn."
"Well, what kind of food do you want?"
"Someplace that has steak," he decided. "You can't go wrong with that."
"Surely you jest," she said. "I've had steak that would have embarrassed the cow that used to wear it. And in good restaurants, too."
"Bull," he said.
She raised her eyebrows. "Well, steer, anyway," he amended. "They don't use the cows for steaks."
"Yet another example of discrimation against women," she declared. "I'm boycotting the steak just for that."
He chuckled. She glanced at him. Despite seeming to be at ease, he had that watchful look again, scanning his surroundings, missing nothing. "Do you ever relax?" she asked suddenly.
"What?" The sudden change of subject threw him.
"You were doing this in the restaurant, too – even when we were making fun of the calamari."
"Doing what?"
"Acting like the FBI. Sweeping the area, like you're expecting something to happen. Would it help if we found an accident so you could rescue someone?"
Scott glanced at her, startled. He was silent for a moment. Then: "I'm sorry. I guess I need to get out more. This isn't…what I normally do."
"I gathered that," she smiled. "Well, what do you normally do? For fun, I mean?"
A mischievous light came into his eyes. "Seriously?"
"Uh-huh," she nodded. "I really want to know."
Scott grinned. "All right. You asked for it."
"Close your eyes," he said as the helijet began to descend out of the sky.
"What?" Tally stared at him.
"Sorry – security reasons," Scott shrugged apologetically. "If you found your way back here, I'd have to kill you."
She burst out laughing, but closed her eyes obediently. "This feels so silly."
"Shhhh." Scott grinned. "Behave yourself. And no peeking."
"Girl Scout's honor."
"Oh, you were never a Girl Scout," he said.
"I was too. Until I got thrown out."
"Aha!" he said triumphantly. "What did you do…make fun of the food?"
She hit him.
The helijet touched down and she felt the cold air hit her as Scott opened the door. He helped her out, lifting her down to the ground so she wouldn't have to negotiate the steps blind. She let her eyes open just a tiny bit as he turned to the pilot, raising her eyebrows a fraction as she caught a glimpse of the credit card he was paying with. A black American Express card. Jesus. Unlimited credit. You could buy your own island with one of those…
She squeezed her eyes back shut as he turned around. He took her hand, leading her forward. "Where are we going?" she asked.
"You'll see," he promised. "It's not far."
A couple of minutes later they stopped again and she heard the tones of a number sequence being keyed into a touch pad. There was a grinding sound and something large and metal began to move. After a moment, Scott took her hand again and led her forward. Behind them she heard the grinding sound again.
"Okay," he said after a moment. "You can open your eyes now."
Tally did so, blinking in the bright lights of the huge hangar they were now standing inside. Filling her vision was the most beautiful private jet she had ever seen – all graceful curves, clean lines and sweeping wings, totally unlike the commercial airliners and clunky, angular helijets she was used to seeing. This plane looked like it was made to fly – it felt as though it weren't made of metal but was really alive, a creature just sleeping, ready to leap into the air at the slightest invitation.
"Well?" he asked. "What do you think?"
"It's beautiful," she said. "I've never seen anything like it."
"We call her the Dragonfly," Scott said, his voice glowing with pride. He walked forward under the aircraft's wing, reaching up almost subconsciously to trail his hand across the burnished metal. It was a gesture of pure love. "Would you like to see why?"
"Really?"
He grinned at her wide-eyed excitement. "Really."
He keyed the combination that would open the entry hatch. He turned, looking at her attire thoughtfully. Then he disappeared for a minute, to a locker across the other side of the hangar. Tally glanced around her surreptitiously, trying to find something that would tell her where she was. There was a bulletin board near the lockers Scott had headed towards, but it was too far away to make out anything pinned to it.
Scott was back beside her. "Give me that coat. You'll be more comfortable in this."
The air force style leather jacket smelled faintly of him, as though he'd worn it not too long ago. She slipped it on, feeling absurdly like she was back in high school and the captain of the football team had just given her his letter jacket to wear.
He grinned. "It suits you," he said, lifting a hand to straighten the collar on one side. His gaze was soft, and for a moment she was sure he was going to kiss her – but then he took her hand instead and led her to the open hatch. "Watch your step," he warned.
He made sure she was strapped securely into the co-pilot's seat, and then she watched him as he ran swiftly through the pre-flight checks. She could feel the change in him – he was in his element now, and it showed.
He brought the engines to life and booted the Dragonfly forward, reaching to flip the remote switch that would open the hangar doors. Tally watched as they rolled toward the rapidly widening opening. "Scott…are we supposed to be doing this?" she asked.
"No," he admitted. "My boss would kill me if he knew."
"I won't tell him if you won't," she promised.
He gave her a conspiratorial grin. "Okay, now close your eyes again."
"Aw…"
"Come on," he said. "No whining. You know the rules."
Grumbling, she shut her eyes. Through her closed lids, she could tell the difference in the light when the jet left the hangar.
Checking that she wasn't peeking, Scott taxied the jet out to the end of the Tracy Aerospace runway, swung the nose around and locked the brakes. "T.A. Tower, this is Dragonfly. Request immediate takeoff clearance."
"Dragonfly, this is T.A. Tower," the voice came back. "Out for a midnight spin, Scott?"
"Hey, Art," Scott grinned. "Yeah, I thought I'd take one more run with her while I'm still here."
"I hear that, Scott…" he could hear the smile of appreciation in the tower controller's voice. "Well, she's your baby. All right, Dragonfly, you have light to moderate cloud cover, visibility of five miles, eight knot winds at 004 degrees. You are clear for takeoff."
"Roger, Tower."
Scott eased the throttles forward. The thunder began to build behind him, thrumming through the jet's sleek frame. Scott watched the gauges, then released the brakes, simultaneously pushing the engines into full afterburner. Kicked forward by the sudden explosion of power, the Dragonfly hurtled forward down the runway. Almost immediately the nose wheel came up off the ground and the sleek craft leaped into the air. Even though he had designed her himself, he was still amazed by how much this plane loved to fly. Like him, she was most at home in the air.
"Okay, Tally," he said as the altimeter reached three thousand feet. "You can look now."
Tally opened her eyes, surprised by how high they had already climbed. "What did he mean, when he said this was your baby?"
"I designed her," he said, trying to make light of it.
She looked at him with new appreciation. "You did? Wow. A man of many talents."
He shrugged, a little uncomfortably. "Well, mister designer," she prompted. "You promised to show me what she can do."
That mischievous look was back in his eyes. "How's your stomach?"
"Great," she said confidently. "Do your worst."
"You asked for it."
He opened up the throttles, kicking her into afterburner, pointing the nose up steeply. The Dragonfly hurled herself toward the stars at full speed, the thunder howling free behind her. Scott rolled her until the speed fell off, bringing her up and over on to her back in a high, soaring loop. She was barely over stall as she reached for the top of the curve, but Scott was wearing the airplane now, flying this creature of metal and plexiglass as if her wings were an extension of his body. He made her hang breathlessly, playing with the forces of velocity and gravity as if he had been born in the air, then the jet fell through, the nose right where he wanted it, and he flipped her easily out of the spin. Right on the money, he thought, grinning with satisfaction – and up they went again, screaming into a full vertical stall, hanging upright this time for that incredible moment of weightlessness before plunging back toward the earth. Beside him he was aware that Tally was shrieking with delight, loving every moment, reaching up to touch the cockpit ceiling with both hands as if the Dragonfly were her own personal rollercoaster.
"Okay?" he asked her as they leveled out again at the bottom of the loop.
"More," she begged. He laughed and rolled the Dragonfly to the right, corkscrewing her over and over before flipping her on to her back for the next soaring arc into the sky.
Scott put the sleek jet through her paces, pushing her to the limits of her performance, loving the finger-responsiveness of her controls. They climbed and plunged and rolled and spun until finally the fuel levels forced him, reluctantly, to bring the fun to an end. They broke through the thick winter cloud cover once again and this time he leveled off, the Dragonfly seeming to float effortlessly now above the blanket of white between them and the earth.
"Oh," Tally said, gazing around her, drinking in the sight. "This is incredible…"
It was quite a view. The glow of the new crescent moon reflected faintly off the snow-laden clouds below them, turning them into a carpet of spun silver. Up here there was no man-made ambient light to mar the sheer beauty of the stars, clustered thicker than she had ever imagined they would be against the deep black of the night sky.
For a long moment, Tally had no words. At last she said, "I understand now. I can see why you love it up here."
He smiled a little, gazing out at the starfield. "My whole life, all I ever wanted to do was fly. When I was a kid I'd sleep out on the porch in the summer, dreaming of being up here."
"So the pulling-people-out-of-collapsed-parking-garages bit wasn't part of your master plan?" she asked teasingly.
Scott shook his head. "No. That came much later, believe me."
She was silent for another moment, absorbing the impressive majesty of her surroundings once more. "I could get used to this."
He stole a glance at her, realizing that she was telling the truth. The light in her eyes, the slight flush on her cheeks, all were tell-tale signs of someone falling in love with the sky. He had seen that look many times, on the faces of his brothers when they were taking lessons, as well as the cadets he had seen go through flight school in the air force.
"Every time I'm up here, I never want it to end," he said quietly. "Sometimes I just want to point the nose into the sun and just…keep flying. Just to see where it would take me."
She grinned. "Like those barnstormers did, back in the twentieth century. That must have been a great life. Flying from town to town, no strings…"
"No responsibilities…"
"No consequences…"
He smiled sadly. "There are always consequences," he said.
She looked at him then, and for a moment she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Scott…" she began. "There's something…"
The fuel warning buzzed, breaking the moment, startling them both. "What's that?" Tally asked, a shade nervously.
"That's the fuel warning," he said reluctantly. "It means we have to head back now."
"Awww…" Tally stuck out her lower lip in a mock pout.
"Well, it's either turn round now or we'll be walking home."
"Oh, well, since you put it that way…"
Scott grinned and banked the Dragonfly in a high arcing turn, heading back toward Tracy Aerospace.
"Scott," she said, "How did you know where I lived?"
They were in the car on the way back into town from the airport. Tally had her legs curled up under her on the passenger seat. She was still wearing his air force jacket.
"It wasn't hard to find out," he admitted, grinning a little. "I paid a shady-looking guy in a trench coat."
She laughed. "Sure." She was silent for a moment, then: "What else did shady guy tell you?"
He glanced sideways at her, concern in his eyes now. "Nothing," he said, trying to reassure her. "Tally, I would never…"
He was so obviously sincere that the knot of fear in her stomach slowly relaxed again. "Sorry. I overreacted."
"No, you didn't," Scott said. "Everyone likes their privacy. Trust me, nobody knows that better than me."
He grinned suddenly. "You want to know why I did it?"
"Surprise me."
"I kept trying to leave you a message. Everything I came up with sounded really lame. I thought maybe if I saw you in person, you'd…"
He trailed off. She reached out instinctively and touched his hand where it rested on the seat between them. His fingers closed immediately over hers.
They drove in silence for a long few moments, both thinking about the future, neither of them liking what they saw.
A loud rumbling sound startled Tally. "Is that your stomach?"
He grinned sheepishly. "Uh-huh."
"Oh, my God, we never ate," she realized. "You must be starving."
"It's okay," he said. "Don't worry about it."
"No," she said, "I know exactly where we need to go."
They pulled up outside the little restaurant ten minutes later. "O'Hara's Italian Restaurant?" Scott said, reading the sign above the doorway in disbelief.
"It's a long story," she said, "Which I'm sure they'll tell you. In fact, you'll pretty much know everything about them in the first ten minutes."
"Are you sure they're open?" he asked. "The sign isn't lit."
"Doesn't matter," she grinned. "They're in there, trust me."
He parked the car and let her lead him around the back of the building. As they got there the door opened and a handsome, dark-haired young man came out, lugging a large can of garbage. He stopped as he saw Tally and his face broke into a big smile. "Ciao, bella!"
Tally hugged him. "Vinnie, this is my…friend, Scott. Scott, meet Vinnie O'Hara."
Vinnie shook Scott's hand, grinning. "Welcome to O'Hara's, man. Any…friend of Tally's is a friend of ours."
Scott grinned back, enjoying Tally's embarrassment a little. He took her hand firmly as they followed Vinnie back into the restaurant.
The kitchen was a bustle of activity, even though it was past midnight. Two Italian women in their sixties sat at the table in the middle, a younger woman stirring a pot on the stove behind them. The smell was heavenly, and Scott felt the emptiness of his stomach hit him.
The two women at the table saw Tally and scrambled up. Tally hugged them both as they fussed over her. "Tally, it's been a long time since you came to see us," the first woman said reproachfully.
"It's only been a month," Tally corrected, smiling. "You know how my job is."
"A month is a long time," the other woman declared. "Have you been eating? You look so skinny."
"Mama, Auntie," the younger woman chided gently, coming around from the stove to hug Tally. "Leave her alone, both of you. She looks fine."
"Thank you, Teresa," Tally smiled.
One of the older women said something in Italian, looking at Scott. The other one chuckled. Teresa made an admonishing face at them and said to Tally, "Mama wants to know who your handsome companion is."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Tally was embarrassed all over again. "Everyone, this is Scott. Scott, this is the O'Hara family…Mama Rosa, her daughter-in-law, Teresa – she and her husband Salvatore own this restaurant – Vinnie you've met, he's Teresa's son, and Mama Rosa's sister, Auntie Olivia Santangelo."
"Hi," Scott said. "Great to meet you all."
"We were out on a date and we got sidetracked," Tally said. "Scott never got to eat and it's all my fault. I couldn't take him home to my cooking..."
"Yep, you dodged a bullet there," Vinnie grinned.
Tally hit him playfully. Mama Rosa and Auntie Olivia had already steered Scott to a seat at the table and were fussing over him, plying him with a basket of fresh Italian bread and a big glass of wine. "Hey, go easy on him," Tally said. "He's not used to you guys yet."
Scott shook his head. "You'd be surprised. This is a lot like home."
"You're Italian?" Auntie Olivia asked doubtfully.
"No," he laughed. "But I have a grandma who might as well be. Every time I'm not in her kitchen she thinks I'm starving to death."
"The escarole and beans is almost ready," Teresa said from the stove. "Vincenzo, bring the plates."
Scott made to stand up, wanting to help, but Teresa waved him back. "Sit down," she smiled. "Tonight, you're a guest. Next time," she winked at Tally before looking back at Scott, "You can help with the dishes."
"I'll help you, Vinnie," Tally said quickly, wanting to do anything right now but meet Scott's eyes.
As they unloaded the dishwasher in the next room, Vinnie said to her, "So, new boyfriend, huh?"
Tally bit her lip. "First date. Who knows?"
Vinnie glanced around at her. "Tally, if you can't see the way he's looking at you, you must be an idiot."
Tally flushed to the roots of her hair. "I know. But it's…complicated."
He grinned. "That's amore, bella. It's always complicated."
Tally had to smile. "Just do me one favor, Vinnie. He doesn't like reporters very much. Don't tell him what I do for a living until I've had the chance to win him over, okay?"
Vinnie nodded, clutching his heart with great mock-solemnly. "I swear on the grave of my great aunt Carlotta."
"You don't have a great aunt Carlotta," she said, shaking her head.
"Not any more," he said with a perfectly straight face – then burst out laughing at her expression.
By the time they came back in with the plates, Teresa was ready to serve dinner. The smell was making Scott feel almost faint with hunger, even though he had already consumed half the basket of bread and drunk two glasses of wine. Finally the escarole and beans was on the plates and the family sat down to eat. "Where's Salvatore?" Tally asked.
"His sister's sick," Teresa said. "He went to take some food to the kids."
"This is great, Teresa," Scott said, trying not to literally shovel the food into his mouth.
Teresa shrugged. "My mother calls it peasant food. But we like it."
"I've got to ask," Scott continued. "Where on earth did you get the last name 'O'Hara?'"
"When my father came over to this country from Sicily," Mama Rosa said, "He met another young man on the journey, Brendan O'Hara. They became best friends. They saved their money and opened an auto repair shop. Messina and O'Hara. They worked hard, did very well for themselves. And then my grandfather was killed under one of the cars he was working on. The hydraulic jack slipped and he was crushed instantly."
"Oh," Scott winced. "I'm sorry."
Mama Rosa shrugged. "It was a long time ago. Brendan had not married – the girl he left behind in Ireland refused to come over to America. She didn't want to leave her family and friends. Anyway, Brendan took care of his partner's family – he was a good man. And eventually he and my mother fell in love."
"I love that story," Tally smiled. "It's so romantic."
"Yeah," Vinnie teased. "Especially the part about the hydraulic jack slipping."
"Oh, you're such a guy," she retorted, trying to hit him. He ducked, laughing.
"What do you do, Scott?" Teresa asked.
"Ah…I'm in the, uh, rescue business," Scott said.
"The rescue business?" Vinnie was suddenly interested. "Hey, my brother Marco's a fireman – he's in a ladder company in midtown."
"Well, we do more of the consulting end, really," Scott said, "Designing equipment, outreach, that kind of thing."
Vinnie came around the table and pulled up a chair next to him. "So, I gotta ask you, what do you think of those new helijets the firefighters are testing out in California? The MRP40's."
Scott shook his head. "Not enough horsepower for the payload. I've looked at the specs. They're never going to be able to fly in those weather conditions with a full load."
Tally watched, smiling, as Scott turned around in his chair and he and Vinnie became engrossed in conversation. Teresa saw the look on her face and leaned over. "He's very handsome. Have you known him long?"
Tally shook her head. "No."
Teresa smiled. "Sometimes, you don't need to."
An hour later, despite three cups of Teresa's delicious cappuccino, Tally was beginning to have trouble keeping her eyes open. Having happily consumed half the pot of escarole and beans, Scott had taken off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves to help Vinnie take out the trash and prepare for the morning. "He's a good boy," Auntie Olivia declared to Tally as they watched the two men go outside. "You should hang on to him."
Yeah, Tally thought, the warm glow evaporating as she remembered. I wish I could.
It must have been on her face, because when he came back in Scott looked at her and paused for a moment. She looked quickly away, feeling his eyes still on her.
"Well," Scott said to nobody in particular, "We should be going. I need to get Tally home before she turns into a pumpkin."
They said their thank yous and goodbyes, the O'Haras all insisting that Scott come back soon, and he smilingly saying that he would if he could. Then he and Tally walked to the car in silence.
"They're great people," Scott said at last.
She nodded. "When I first came to the city and started my…new job, my roommate brought me here to eat all the time. She's Vinnie's cousin – Auntie Olivia's daughter. They practically adopted me. They're so different from my family – it took me a while to get used to all the attention."
He opened the door for her. "I take it your family is less…demonstrative."
"Oh, you could say that. Unless, of course, I did something they didn't like…which was often. Then they got very demonstrative all of a sudden."
She waited while he came around the car and got into the driver's seat. "Your family sounds like so much more fun," she said, unable to keep the wistful note out of her voice.
"Uh-huh," he nodded. "I'm very lucky."
He put the key in the ignition almost reluctantly. "This was fun," he said. "Thanks."
She smiled. "They liked you. I could tell."
He glanced around at her, and the look in his eyes could have melted stone. Tally's breath stilled in her throat. "Better get you home," he said softly, after a long moment.
"Yes," she said.
He pulled the car away from the curb.
Feeling like he wanted to jump out of his skin, Scott watched silently and unhappily as Tally fished her keys out of her purse. They were both reluctant, neither one of them wanting this night to end. He had the sudden, irrational feeling that as long as he didn't say goodbye to her, as long as she didn't turn her keys in that lock, they could stay suspended somehow in this magical no-man's-land – neither in her world nor in his, free from the restrictions and duties and responsibilities of both.
It was ridiculous, of course. Nothing had changed. She was still the girl of his dreams, and he still couldn't ever have her.
"God," Tally said. "Do you realize it's three a.m.? I'm going to be a wreck tomorrow."
"Today," he corrected, biting back his bitter thoughts. "Sorry. Time flies, and all that…"
"No pun intended?" she smiled back. She unlocked the door. "Scott, it's so late, you want to stay over?" Oh, God, she thought immediately, that wasn't what I meant…
She turned quickly, embarrassed, stammering out an explanation. "I…I didn't mean…I meant, because you must be tired, and…dammit, I have a guest bedroom…"
He stopped her protests with his mouth.
In her twenty-seven years, Tally had been kissed many times – but it had never been remotely like this. She made a soft moaning sound deep in her throat as the fire raced through her veins, melting her bones, reaching up blindly and helplessly to him, feeling him respond by pulling her even tighter against his body. The blood roared in her ears and she couldn't hear, she couldn't see, she could only feel as his mouth burned into hers, taking her breath away.
After what seemed like an eternity, Scott slowly raised his head and stared down at her. When she opened her eyes at last and saw his expression, she realized that he was every bit as amazed as she was. Maybe more so.
She didn't care. All she wanted was for him to kiss her again. She had no way of knowing that he was hanging on to his sanity by a very slender thread. "Tally…I…God, I'm…" he said, the words all coming out in a jumbled rush.
She wound her arms around his neck and pulled his head back down to hers.
It was lucky, he realized much later, when his mind would function again, that she had already opened her door – because otherwise he would have taken her right there in the hallway. But when he lifted her in his arms, swept away by a torrent of unstoppable need, they crashed against the door and it opened, tumbling them into the dark apartment. Scott swung her around against the wall and her hair came down out of its single clip in a soft cloud of gold. He groaned, burying his face in it, inhaling her perfume.
He had never been so out of control in his life, all his senses filled with the smell and feel and taste of her, but she was matching him move for move, kissing and groping and tearing at his clothes with equal fervor. She gasped as his mouth scalded her neck and shoulders, felt his hands slide up under her dress, ruthlessly sweeping away all obstacles to what he wanted. Then he was lifting her in his arms again and the wall pressed cold and hard against her back, every place he touched her burning like fire. Stunned by his strength and power, she clung to him as he devoured her mouth with his, pulling his body into hers with everything she possessed, wanting him, needing him, needing him now with a desperation she had never known she could feel. And then it happened and he became a living breathing part of her and she cried out his name, hearing him gasp something incoherently in her ear as her world went black and turned inside out and stars burst inside her head. She dimly heard his final shout and then his arms went around her and held her trembling body tight against him, pouring with sweat, soaking her right through her dress.
"God," he said at last, when he could speak again. "God."
She reached up and touched his face in wonder, smoothing back the dark, sweat-dampened hair from where it had fallen over his forehead. He stared down at her, his expression tortured with guilt at his loss of control. "Tally…"
"Ssshhh." She reached up on tiptoes to kiss him.
He groaned deeply into her mouth, his hands coming up to hold her head, winding her thick honey gold hair around his fingers. When she looked into his eyes again the fire was back. "Don't stop," she whispered, wanting him with a fierceness that made her body shake. "Never stop."
Scott lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
It was getting light outside.
Scott lay awake, half propped up against the pillows, gazing down at Tally as she slept. She was so beautiful, curled up against him, her head resting peacefully on his stomach, honey gold hair streaming out over his chest. Oh, God, he thought in sudden desperation, what am I going to do?
They had made love until exhaustion forced them to stop, and even then they couldn't bear to stop touching each other, still holding and stroking and kissing even though they no longer had the strength to go further. Slowly, gradually, they had become still and drifted off in each other's arms, Scott holding her tightly to him as though his life would end if he couldn't feel every inch of her body against his skin.
He had awakened, suddenly, a few moments ago, and hard, cold reality had come crashing in with a force that left him breathless. His gut churned. He didn't belong here. And he couldn't stay. And it didn't matter that he knew now, had known ever since that sudden, blinding moment that was their first kiss, that he was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her. Because given his life, his duties and responsibilities, and the overriding need to protect his family, there was no place to go from here.
He stared down at her, trying to memorize everything about her, his heart quietly breaking – knowing he could never see her again. Leaving her was going to be the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. But he had no choice – he had to do the right thing and get out of her apartment now, before she woke up and he did something really stupid.
Like ask her to spend the rest of her life with him.
He lifted her carefully off him and lowered her back to the sheets, bending to kiss her forehead very, very gently. "Goodbye, Tally," he whispered. "I'm sorry…"
Then he slipped quietly off the bed, dressed as quickly as he could and headed out into the night.
Life, he thought bitterly, was a cast iron bitch. And then, if you got lucky, you died.