Vivian's Return Page 9

  “How long is eventually?” Vivien asked.

  “How long is a piece of string?” Morris rubbed his rumpled hair, making it stand up even more. “You know Paul, Vivvy. If he’s got something to work out he may be up there all day. The only thing that works against that is that he’s gliding and it depends on how the thermals are running today. Sheer physics says he’s got to come down some time.”

  “Thanks, Morris,” Vivien told him and stood up.

  “No worries.” He hooked a thumb toward the front door. “I’ve gotta get back.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry about interrupting. Give my apologies to your friend.”

  “Sure. She’s fine about it. But I don’t want to stretch her patience too far and gabbing to another lady while she’s waiting would be pushing it.”

  “I understand completely.” Vivien grinned. “I’m out of here.”

  Morris smiled and headed back inside and Vivien went back out to her car.

  So many changes! Why was she so discomforted by them? She had expected changes, after all. A lot moves on in seven years, but some things she had been relying on staying the same—like Morris. If they had remained the same over time it would have been a reassurance that her departure hadn’t created too much upheaval. She had been depending on those things remaining the same. She had, in fact, been reacting and behaving as if everything was as it was seven years ago, and her reactions were causing her grief.

  People had moved on.

  What about Paul, then?

  He would have moved on too but she was still using the old standards.

  She needed to open her mind, sit back and take measure. Assess people for what they were now, instead of treating them as they had been seven years ago.

  Assessment. Wasn’t that what she was being paid to do? Perhaps she wasn’t being as scrupulously fair as she had thought.

  Vivien headed out toward the airport, having no trouble remembering the way.

  Morris hadn’t asked her why she wanted to catch up with Paul so urgently, although his instant cooperation probably meant he thought he knew the answer. It would be a safe enough guess that she would be trying to contact Paul because of yesterday’s alarm. Which, in a way, she was. Yesterday afternoon had been the last of a long series of similar events—a nicely generic incident that could have been plucked unchanged out of the past and slotted into the present. She was looking to find Paul to apologize for the complications they were living with as a result of the past.

  The airport was the same deserted, desolate group of buildings skirting the single runway that she remembered. There was a passenger terminal, a small, newish building of glass and concrete, empty and waiting for the next commercial flight. Further to the south was a group of hangars and the control tower and a grassed, fence-enclosed compound with two old World War II kites and a dedication plaque. Lined up along the fence were over a dozen cars—empty. The gliding club members’ cars, she assumed. At the end of the row—or the beginning, depending on one’s perspective—was the sleek black sports car that Paul drove.

  Vivien parked her Range Rover next to Paul’s car and climbed out. She locked her car despite the apparent dearth of people around. She had too much valuable equipment in the back of the car to risk theft—some of it virtually irreplaceable pieces tailored to her unique requirements.

  Looking up, Vivien spotted five or six gliders up in the air, far over by the hills where the thermals would hardly ever fail. They were barely specks to her naked eye and with their long wing span and slim aerodynamic shape, they could easily be mistaken for hovering birds as they circled around looking for hot air to lift them higher.

  There was a hint of movement and noise from the closest hangar and a people-sized door was open along the side of the huge corrugated iron shed. Vivien crossed the grass to the door and went inside.

  A handful of people milled around a low, long glider sitting on the ground. By the focus of interest at the nose of the craft, Vivien judged they were attaching the tow cable to the glider, ready to take it up into the air. A small Cessna sat at the entrance of the hangar, the cable firmly attached to the tail.

  Vivien approached the closest person. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Paul Levissianos. Is he up in the air?”

  The man frowned. “I only just got here myself,” he confessed. “Hey, Blue,” he called to another man standing at the tail of the glider. “Is Paul here today?”

  Blue was, naturally enough, a redhead. Vivien had battled all her life to avoid being lumbered with feminine versions of the peculiarly Australian nickname. It didn’t seem to bother the man who answered to it now, though. He simply looked out through the mouth of the hangar and up into the sky. “He’s out there somewhere,” he replied. “Been out a while. If you want to wait, he’ll land sooner or later for a break. It’s his glider but there’re others waiting for a turn.”

  The first man she had spoken to grinned. “His glider’s all white, with royal blue trim. Real neat-looking plane. There’s some chairs out the front of the hangar if you want to wait.”

  “Thanks, I will,” Vivien replied. She made her way to the front of the hangar to the ragged row of folding chairs she found there, set out in the early morning sunshine.

  She sat down in one and began to wait.

  * * * * *

  It wasn’t working.

  Paul sat at the controls of the sleek little glider, listening to the wind whistling against the fiberglass hull, his hands tightened around the grips, his knuckles white.

  Gliding—any sort of flying—always helped Paul clear his mind but today it wasn’t working.

  Which made it all the more frustrating because it had always worked before, even during that dark time when she first left Geraldton. But now Vivien was reaching into his thoughts even when he was flying.

  “Frustrated” didn’t do justice to the way he felt. He just couldn’t get rid of her. Why now? Why couldn’t he dismiss her now? What was different?

  She was.

  Paul looked at his altimeter and realized that he was getting dangerously low. Time to go back to the thermal and lift up, or land.

  “Bugger it,” he muttered and wrenched the joystick around to line the plane up with the runway. He would land short but sod it.

  Jenny, with all her questions about Vivien’s past, had managed to point out something about Vivien that he had not noticed before. She had changed. Radically.

  While Paul was still treating her the way he used to. It had been like sliding on an old set of reactions and assumptions.

  I want to see her again. I want to look at her with my eyes open.

  He stood on the brakes, slowing the glider to a manageable speed but preserving enough impetus so that he could steer it toward the hangar a little and save the club towing it with the Cessna.

  He climbed out and stretched and glanced at his watch. He’d been up for over an hour. What a waste. He pulled off his leather jacket and headed for the hangar. They were fixing the wheel assembly of one of the member’s gliders. Perhaps he could help out there. Having people around him and something to do with his hands might exorcise her enough—

  She was here. He saw her sitting on a folding chair, lounging. He would recognize that flaming hair anywhere. Her long legs were stretched out, her slim body elongated. The eye was drawn to her. How could she possibly have been considered ugly, even in adolescence? That flesh of hers was beautiful...she seemed to glow.

  He’d been thinking of her and here she was. It was as if he had summoned her. The idea made him smile a little. How many times, when she first left Geraldton, had he wished that he could summon her up just by thinking of her?

  She saw his approach and unfolded herself and stood up. Paul’s soul sighed. She wore some sort of narrow-legged pants that emphasized the length of her legs and a sweater that clung to her hips and waist and emphasized her curves. The sweater was olive green and her glorious hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders, blazing in the
sunlight. It made a dramatic impact—she wore it much longer these days, almost to her waist and the length and weight of it banished much of the frizz that had been the bane of her life. It hung now, a heavy mass of rippled richly shining locks that made Paul’s fingers itch to tangle themselves in and run his palm across the curls.

  City polish.

  It wasn’t just her appearance that had changed, or the fact that she was seven years older, for to Paul she had always seemed older than Eve. He halted in front of her and was almost surprised to find her eyes were lower than his...for he always remembered her as being taller and from a distance she seemed a statuesque six foot tall at least.

  He took off his sunglasses. “Hello, Vivien.”

  “Hello.” Full control.

  “Have you been waiting long?”

  She shrugged.

  Paul couldn’t help himself. “Why are you here?” he asked, lowering his voice to defeat any casual eavesdroppers.

  “To see you, of course. I wanted to apologize for last night.”

  “Apologize?” He was startled and annoyed at himself for being surprised. Wasn’t Vivien the one who taught him not to duck blame or guilt? She had shown him how to face it squarely, accept it and learn by it. He should have seen this coming.

  “I was a bitch,” she said. “You don’t deserve to be lumbered with my emotional fallout. I’m sorry for that—for dumping it on you. There were probably other, better ways of getting even with you, if I’d known that was what I wanted to do. I could have thought of another way.” She shrugged. “But I didn’t.”

  Right to the guts of it.

  Fearless.

  No, not fearless. He remembered the shark. It wasn’t fearlessness. There were plenty of things that scared her and she had a realistic sense of caution. It was pure, cast-iron courage that let her stand there and speak harsh, unflattering truth.

  He looked about for people within hearing distance. There were three people hooking up his glider to the club’s Cessna. Everyone else was very busy doing something but he caught Blue’s quick glance their way. Even if they didn’t know who Vivien was, her appearance alone made her a curiosity.

  Paul took her arm. “Come with me.”

  “Why?”

  “Let’s find somewhere more private to talk about this.”

  “I’ve said everything I was going to say. That was all of it.”

  He paused. Where to go? He looked back over his shoulder as the Cessna started up noisily. The glider. He looked back at her. She was close to him, the closest she had been to him since her arrival in Geraldton at the beginning of the week and it was affecting her—her lips parted and he could see a pulse beat at the base of her throat, where the creamy skin slipped beneath the neck of the sweater. It would taste sweet there....

  He frowned. “Have you tried gliding yet?”

  “No.”

  He was surprised.

  “My job these days is ninety percent paperwork. I just don’t have time. And gliders were few and far between up in the northwest.” She lifted a brow as if she were challenging him to dispute her.

  Instead he wanted to trace the arch of her brow with his fingertip. He wanted to follow the curve of her cheekbone and feel the warmth of her skin, to run the backs of his fingers under the curve of her chin and down her throat and feel her stretch in response to his touch.

  He saw her shiver, the eyes close a little.

  She knew what he was thinking.

  Damn. He dragged his gaze away from her face, stared at the puffed-up windsock moving gently as the wind changed and when he thought he could, he looked back at her with something like a neutral expression.

  “Maybe you’re not the only one who needs to apologize,” he said. “Revenge doesn’t feel so good the morning after, does it?”

  Vivien shook her head. “No.”

  “Come on.” Gently, he tugged her toward the glider.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, picking up speed so she was walking beside him, her long legs stepping out.

  “Up. There’s nowhere as private as that.”

  “Up?”

  “In the glider.” He risked a glance at her. “Let me show you what real flying is like.”

  He checked with Blue, who stepped aside, giving up his turn in Paul’s glider with a knowing grin. Paul escorted Vivian to the glider and watched her step into the low craft, her long legs settling in behind his seat, before getting in himself. Despite the fact that she was behind him, he was preternaturally aware of her presence. He was occupied with the takeoff, until he hit the tow cable release and they were on their own but the entire time he was wondering how she was reacting to the flight, was she enjoying it, would she want to do this again.

  His body was tightening up, tensing with arousal, as his mind kept throwing images of her into his thoughts—the long legs straddling the plane as she climbed in, the way she had unfolded herself from the chair, the arching brow, her light, pleasant scent when he had stood next to her. Then he realized that he wanted her. Badly.

  Some things never changed.

  Chapter Six

  Vivien fell instantly in love with gliding.

  She understood immediately what it was that Paul liked about it. Why he loved it. There was no man-made, mechanical intervention that kept one afloat. There were merely two wings that obeyed physics and lifted you up into the air. You had to rely on your own flying instincts and the luck of finding an uplifting thermal to give you more height when you needed it.

  The rest of the time you spent in eerie quietness, listening to your own heart beat and the different cadences of the wind. It was as close to having your own set of wings as man could get.

  No wonder Paul loved it.

  Vivien was too enraptured with the short flight to even think of discussing the reason she had sought Paul out today. Instead she followed his quiet advice. “Stretch out with your mind. Feel the wings as a part of you.”

  Paul didn’t seem to be in any rush to start a discussion, either. They sat in silence, enjoying themselves.

  Just like old times, Vivien realized, with a start. But the spell of flying caught her again and she sank into a reverie, enchanted.

  She realized Paul was swinging the glider around and lining up with the runway and gave an audible exclamation of dismay. “Already?” she asked, barely having to lift her voice above the sound of the air rushing past them.

  “There’s a commercial flight coming in soon. It’s better to have as few gliders up in the air as possible to save problems.”

  She nodded, even though Paul could not see her. It was just another hint that Paul’s sense of safety was intact and active—particularly where other people were concerned.

  They touched the ground with a gentle kiss and then were rattled about as the primitive wheel system took the full impact of their landing. Paul brought the plane to a slow halt, judging it with such precision that they were as close to the glider club hangar as possible when the glider came to a halt.

  People helped Vivien out and the glider was pushed well away from the runway. Paul straightened up from pushing and turned to face Vivien, where she had been following the glider’s progress. The furrow between his brows had disappeared.

  “What do you think?” he asked her, halting her progress by simply standing in her way. “Do you like it?” Enthusiasm radiated from every angle of his body.

  Vivien nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s been so long since I flew a fixed-wing aircraft, I’d forgotten how exhilarating it can be. Gliding is the essence of flying, isn’t it?” She cocked her head to one side. “Is that why you love flying so much, Paul? Is that what makes you keep going out there, time after time, to feel it all over again?”

  It was a question that she had never thought to ask him before. Flying was an unquestioned part of his life. It just was.

  He smiled, a slow, easy smile that half-closed his eyes and gave him a languorous, satiated expression that Vivien had only ever seen when
she was in his arms, after making love and for a confused moment she found herself recalling some of those moments. She was appalled at the power of the craving it set off. Trying to school her face to the neutral expression Paul used so effectively, she swallowed dryly and picked up the conversational thread again.

  “We didn’t do a lot of talking, did we?” she said. “So much for privacy.”

  Paul’s expression changed to a happy one. “These things happen. Besides, I’m glad I got the chance to show you what it’s like up there.”

  “Did Jenny like it?” Vivien asked, knowing that it was envy that made her ask that question.

  For a brief second his face clouded. “I’ve never taken Jenny up. She’s afraid of flying.”

  Vivien felt her jaw dropping a little. “She’s afraid of flying?” she repeated blankly. Then the humor hit her and she felt her lips twitch and tried to hold back her laughter. “She’s afraid of flying and she’s working for an air charter company?”

  Paul shrugged, although Vivien could see an answering twinkle in his eyes. “She’s employed as a receptionist and radio operator. As far as her job goes, I have absolutely no complaints.”

  “Yes, she’s very good at her job.” The laughter bubbled up again. “It’s just that you—who can’t keep his feet on terra firma for longer than twelve hours at a stretch, taking out a girl that can’t stand flying is really kind of funny. What on earth do you find to talk about?”

  Paul merely lifted one brow and continued to gaze at her levelly. Abruptly Vivien’s giggles vanished, evaporated under a hot flash of pure jealousy. The inference from his look was that they didn’t talk—not a lot, anyway, or at least that was the interpretation Vivien gave it.

  She looked away, down at her feet, then up, over to her right, unable to look Paul in the eye again.

  She felt his hand on her arm. “Where’s your car?” he asked.

  “Next to yours.”

  “I’ll walk you back there,” he said, once more tugging her gently into motion, drawing her alongside him.