jeans. He cleared his throat too. “Um…I should go.
I’ve got to call my realtor and apologize for missing our meeting.”
“Okay.”
Another silence, this time broken by the sound of their footsteps as they headed for the glass doors at the building’s entrance. They walked outside, and the warm breeze immediately slid under Jane’s tousled hair and cooled the nape of her neck. Disappointment mingled with the desire still coursing through her blood. Damn it. She didn’t want to say goodbye to him yet. How could she, after their explosive joining in the elevator?
But Becker had goodbye written all over his face. He glanced at her for a moment, and she could swear she saw another flash of hesitation, this time over walking away from her. But then those intense brown eyes went all shuttered again and, in a quiet voice, he said, “I’ll see you around, Jane.”
“See you around, Becker,” she echoed.
He offered a final nod, and then he was gone, disappearing into the afternoon crowd bustling down the sidewalk.
Jane watched him walk away. Disappointed. Aroused. A little bit pissed.
After a few long moments, she forced herself to snap out of this silly trance of longing, and headed for her car.
“You can’t change his mind?” Maureen Willis asked, her dissatisfaction emanating from the other end of the line.
Jane sighed and shifted the cell phone to her other ear. She was stretched out in a lounge chair on Coronado Beach, enjoying the late afternoon sun heating her skin and the sight of the calm ocean. She wished the magazine had sprung for one of those gorgeous cottages sitting a hundred yards away, but she wasn’t unhappy about her suite. The Hotel del Coronado was one of the most beautiful hotels she’d ever stayed in. She was already dreading having to get into her car and drive back to LA next week.
“I can’t change his mind,” she told her editor. “He was pretty adamant. He doesn’t want to be interviewed.”
“That’s a damn shame.” Maureen’s voice grew wistful. “I’m looking at those photos your sister sent over, and the one of Thomas Becker by the helicopter is seriously sexy.” Jane knew precisely which picture Maureen referred to. He was standing by the helicopter after they’d landed at the Navy base. The sun was just beginning to set, his big muscular body looked amazing, and his head was turned to the side, revealing his handsome profile. Jane had stared at the photo several times last night, and each time she saw his face, she remembered what they’d done in the elevator.
And wished they could do it again.
“I could just run the photo anyway,” Maureen said, sounding thoughtful. “We’ll mention his name in the caption, say he was the head of the rescue mission.”
“You can’t,” Jane answered firmly. “He doesn’t want his picture in the article. He said he prefers to keep a low profile, and he definitely won’t sign a photo release. Don’t worry, though, I’m working on the first draft, using my interview with Liz, and it’s pretty good. I don’t think we even need Thomas Becker.”
“What about the other members of the team? Can you speak with them?”
“I could try, but I was hoping to get the one who led the rescue.” Jane chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I think Liz’s firsthand account will be enough, Maureen. It’ll be an emotional piece, trust me.”
“Fine,” her editor said. “Try to talk to the other men if you think you need to, otherwise email me the story by the end of the week. You may as well stay there, since the hotel is already paid for, so enjoy the vacation.”
“Will do.”
Jane flipped the phone shut and tossed it into her green oversized beach bag. She leaned back in the chair, which caused the big straw hat on her head to shift. She hated the damn hat, but if she didn’t shade her face, she sunburned like crazy. She’d slathered the sunblock all over her body too, but already she could see her skin
I’ve got to call my realtor and apologize for missing our meeting.”
“Okay.”
Another silence, this time broken by the sound of their footsteps as they headed for the glass doors at the building’s entrance. They walked outside, and the warm breeze immediately slid under Jane’s tousled hair and cooled the nape of her neck. Disappointment mingled with the desire still coursing through her blood. Damn it. She didn’t want to say goodbye to him yet. How could she, after their explosive joining in the elevator?
But Becker had goodbye written all over his face. He glanced at her for a moment, and she could swear she saw another flash of hesitation, this time over walking away from her. But then those intense brown eyes went all shuttered again and, in a quiet voice, he said, “I’ll see you around, Jane.”
“See you around, Becker,” she echoed.
He offered a final nod, and then he was gone, disappearing into the afternoon crowd bustling down the sidewalk.
Jane watched him walk away. Disappointed. Aroused. A little bit pissed.
After a few long moments, she forced herself to snap out of this silly trance of longing, and headed for her car.
“You can’t change his mind?” Maureen Willis asked, her dissatisfaction emanating from the other end of the line.
Jane sighed and shifted the cell phone to her other ear. She was stretched out in a lounge chair on Coronado Beach, enjoying the late afternoon sun heating her skin and the sight of the calm ocean. She wished the magazine had sprung for one of those gorgeous cottages sitting a hundred yards away, but she wasn’t unhappy about her suite. The Hotel del Coronado was one of the most beautiful hotels she’d ever stayed in. She was already dreading having to get into her car and drive back to LA next week.
“I can’t change his mind,” she told her editor. “He was pretty adamant. He doesn’t want to be interviewed.”
“That’s a damn shame.” Maureen’s voice grew wistful. “I’m looking at those photos your sister sent over, and the one of Thomas Becker by the helicopter is seriously sexy.” Jane knew precisely which picture Maureen referred to. He was standing by the helicopter after they’d landed at the Navy base. The sun was just beginning to set, his big muscular body looked amazing, and his head was turned to the side, revealing his handsome profile. Jane had stared at the photo several times last night, and each time she saw his face, she remembered what they’d done in the elevator.
And wished they could do it again.
“I could just run the photo anyway,” Maureen said, sounding thoughtful. “We’ll mention his name in the caption, say he was the head of the rescue mission.”
“You can’t,” Jane answered firmly. “He doesn’t want his picture in the article. He said he prefers to keep a low profile, and he definitely won’t sign a photo release. Don’t worry, though, I’m working on the first draft, using my interview with Liz, and it’s pretty good. I don’t think we even need Thomas Becker.”
“What about the other members of the team? Can you speak with them?”
“I could try, but I was hoping to get the one who led the rescue.” Jane chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I think Liz’s firsthand account will be enough, Maureen. It’ll be an emotional piece, trust me.”
“Fine,” her editor said. “Try to talk to the other men if you think you need to, otherwise email me the story by the end of the week. You may as well stay there, since the hotel is already paid for, so enjoy the vacation.”
“Will do.”
Jane flipped the phone shut and tossed it into her green oversized beach bag. She leaned back in the chair, which caused the big straw hat on her head to shift. She hated the damn hat, but if she didn’t shade her face, she sunburned like crazy. She’d slathered the sunblock all over her body too, but already she could see her skin
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