HEATH STEWART WAS in no mood to celebrate. His head was splitting, though he couldn’t decide if it was from the alcohol he’d consumed or the drugs the doctors had given him after the accident. His body ached in a dozen different places. His mouth was so dry his tongue seemed too big for it, and every time he blinked, his eyes felt scraped by sandpaper.
“Happy New Year, sir.”
At the flight attendant’s chipper greeting, he could barely keep from snarling. If he heard one more cheerful voice, he’d really have to punch something.
He leaned a hand against the wall and waited for the dizziness to pass. Cursing through gritted teeth, he took another step. He was getting aboard this plane if he had to crawl.
His life had taken an ugly turn. He’d had his fill of so-called friends and party animals. For a little while at least, he was looking forward to something he’d never expected to want again in his lifetime. Peace and quiet. All he wanted was to be left alone to lick his wounds.
He put one foot in front of the other and moved doggedly along.
Ally settled herself in the first-class section of the plane and, because she was almost the last to board, considered the empty seat beside her a good omen. Maybe she would be lucky enough to have this space to herself so she could really get some work done. She flipped open her palm notebook and began transferring information from it to her laptop.
“Here you are, sir.”
Ally nearly groaned as a flight attendant directed a late-arriving passenger to the seat beside hers just as the plane’s doors were slammed shut.
“Thanks.” His movements were shuffling and awkward as he stowed a duffel in the overhead compartment, then slipped out of a well-worn backpack and jammed it in as well, before taking his seat. “Oh. Sorry.” He folded his long legs into the cramped space, bumping Ally in the process.
She moved her feet and shrank back against the window, all the while keeping her attention glued to the screen of her laptop. There would be only a few minutes more before she’d have to stow her equipment until after takeoff, and she still had a dozen or more things she wanted to transfer to her hard drive.
After several muttered oaths while he struggled to fasten his seat belt her seatmate turned to her. “I hate to bother you, but would you mind giving me a hand with this?” He rubbed his shoulder. “This arm just doesn’t want to cooperate.”
His voice had the burr of Scotland.
As she reached over to help him with the seat belt, she had a quick impression of shaggy coal-black hair badly in need of a trim, a stubble of beard darkening his chin, and a world-weary expression in the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
“Broken?”
He shook his head. “Just bloody sore. The doctor gave me some pain medication, but all it’s done is make me fuzzy-headed.”
“That’s not the worst thing. It’ll help you sleep.” She turned away and concentrated on her laptop.
When the flight attendant paused beside his seat to ask if he needed some help, he seemed to have trouble rousing himself from his medicated fog to answer. “Thanks, but you’re a bit late. My seatmate was kind enough to lend a hand. If you don’t mind, though, I’ll take a pillow.”
The attendant placed it behind his head. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”
“I will. Thanks.” He closed his eyes.
Ally studied the way he was sprawled all over her space as well as his own. Once they were airborne she kicked off her shoes and touched the speed-dial button of her cell phone. “Marti? Ally. By the time you get this message at your office I’ll be in Scotland. I’d like you to fax me a list of clients interested in antiques, along with their wish lists. Underline anything specific that might fetch a higher price for the firm. As soon as I get to my destination I’ll start faxing you a list of what I’ve found. I’m sure, from my research, that some of them will be one-of-a-kind family heirlooms. Scottish, mostly. Others will probably be French, English, Italian.”
Beside her, Heath listened to her rapid-fire delivery. Did she never stop? As soon as she finished leaving one message, she was off and running to the next, and the next, without bothering to catch a breath.
She wiggled in her seat, and he opened one eye to watch as she adjusted it to the most comfortable position. If he’d heard that voice on his telephone, he would have thought he was talking to a human dynamo. A dynamo with attitude. Nothing shy or hesitant about her as she plowed through a list of business details that would have had most executives reeling. But the voice didn’t seem to fit the slender woman who was busily tapping a pen on the armrest as she left yet another message, this time to someone named Armand.
“Ally Kerr here. I may have just the sort of treasures you’ve been looking for since last December. As soon as I have a chance to catalog the pieces, I’ll fax you a copy.”
A cap of fiery curls framed her small heart-shaped face. Her fair skin was that amazing porcelain trademark of a true redhead. She wore oatmeal-colored woolen slacks and a matching turtleneck. Her only adornment was a pair of small gold studs in her ears. Heath had already checked her fingers for rings and had noted none. Not that he was interested, but when a guy had reached thirty-five without falling into the marriage trap, it was an automatic reaction.
As her voice droned on, he found himself drifting into the first restful sleep he’d had in days.
Ally set aside her phone to enjoy a quick meal, while indulging herself for a few minutes with her favorite mystery author. It wasn’t exactly the way she’d imagined spending New Year’s Day, but it could have been worse. Her smile slipped a notch. She could have been watching football with Tedious Ted and some of the professional athletes he claimed as close personal friends. Come to think of it, Ted surrounded himself with celebrities. To make himself feel important? Why hadn’t that occurred to her when they’d first met? Because, she thought with a sense of shame, she’d allowed him to dazzle her with his lavish lifestyle.
As the attendant removed her tray it occurred to Ally that although her ego had been badly bruised, she had escaped that relationship relatively unscathed. It hurt to think that Ted had been cheating with her best friend. Ex–best friend, she mentally corrected. But at least she’d learned the painful truth about him before it was too late. Though she had enjoyed his shameless pursuit, and the expensive gifts he’d lavished on her, she hadn’t lost her heart to him.
It was easy to see in retrospect that he’d been all flash and no substance. That’s what hurt the most. That she had been so blind to what should have been so painfully obvious.
“Looks ominous.” The sleep-roughened voice beside her brought her out of her reverie.
Ally managed to compose her features, annoyed that this stranger had caught her wallowing in misery.
“It can’t be that bad.” He nodded toward the book in her hand. “Grizzly murder, though. The butler did it.”
“There is no butler.”
“The cook, then. I always get those two mixed up.”
“No cook either.”
“Ah, well, it’s not worth fretting about. Old fool deserved to die. He’d been mistreating everyone in the book.”
She bit back a smile. “The victim is young and beautiful.”
“Now I remember. It’s all this medication. The brain’s muddled, and I—”
Hearing his quick intake of breath, she leaned a bit closer. “Are you hurting?”
“Some. Probably time for another pain pill.” He released his seat belt and started to get up, but quickly slumped back into his seat, overcome by waves of pain. “Not a good idea, I guess.”
Ally could see the pallor even that small effort had caused. “I’ll get your medicine. Where do you keep it?”
“There’s a bottle in my backpack.”
She eased past him and stood in the aisle, opening the overhead bin and removing his backpack.
As she did, he indulged himself in the view of softly rounded hips and long, long legs. This was way better than the nurse he’d had to endure in the emergency room, who’d been built like a fullback and had barked orders like a drill sergeant.
Because Ally didn’t feel comfortable rummaging around in his belongings, she set the backpack on his lap. With his good hand he dug in and came up with the prescription bottle.
Ally shook a pill into his hand and returned the bag to the overhead compartment, then slid past him to her seat. “The label said you should take that with food.”
“Did it?” He wondered how she would react if she knew how much he’d just enjoyed the press of her backside brushing across his knees. “No wonder I’m feeling so loopy. Right now, even without a plane, I’d be flying.”
That flash of droll humor had her grinning despite herself.
Minutes later, after Ally pressed the call button for him, an attendant arrived with water and a dinner tray.
Ally dialed her cell phone and watched as her seatmate downed the pill, then struggled with his knife and fork. After a few attempts, he set them aside and simply stared morosely at the food.
Cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, Ally picked up his knife and fork and began cutting his food into bite-size pieces, all the while chatting away to a message machine somewhere in Manhattan.
“Thanks.” Heath couldn’t figure out what surprised him more—the fact that she would offer help without being asked or the fact that she did so without even pausing for a breath. “Sorry to be such a slug.”
Ally put a hand over the mouthpiece of her phone. “You can’t help it if you’re hurting.”
“But I’m not used to causing so much trouble.”
“No problem.” She put the fork in his good hand and continued her conversation. “Caroline? Ally Kerr here. You can expect a fax from me no later than tomorrow with a list of available antiques. I’d appreciate it if you’d get back to me by the end of the week. There’s going to be quite a rush on these things, since they’re all one of a kind and have been held by the same family for generations.”
When she disconnected, her seatmate shot her a long look before proceeding to eat. When he finished, he leaned back and sighed, as though exhausted by the effort. “That’s the first food I’ve had in more than twenty-four hours.”
Ally looked up from her laptop computer. “Why?”
He shrugged. “No time. I was airlifted off the slopes and—”
“Slopes?”
He nodded. “I was skiing in Montreal.”
That brought a jolt of surprise. For some strange reason, she’d imagined him being mugged on the streets of New York, not skiing in Canada. In that frayed sweater and ski pants with the tear in the knee, he didn’t so much resemble a ski bum as a real bum, or a down-on-his-luck visitor, eager to escape the big city before anything worse happened to him. “Your first time skiing?”
He shook his head. “Far from it. But I’ve never done anything like this before. A stupid mistake. I misjudged a turn. One moment of carelessness, and the next thing I knew, I woke up just as I was being hauled down the mountain and loaded onto a copter for a flight to the local hospital. From there I decided to fly to New York and return home.”
“Where is home?”
“It’s a wee bit of a place in the Highlands that no one has ever heard of. What about you? What would bring a lovely lady to Scotland this time of year?”
“A business trip.”
“Business? On New Year’s Day?”
Ally laughed. “I wasn’t supposed to be here. But my boss is about to become a father for the first time, and I’m taking his place.” Without thinking, she reached up and adjusted the pillow behind his head. “Once that pill kicks in, you should probably think about getting some more sleep. Would you like a blanket?”
He nodded, pleasantly surprised by her concern. “That would be nice.”
Again Ally slid past him and opened the overhead compartment. By the time she’d draped a blanket around him, his eyes were closing.
“You may not look like it, but you’re definitely an angel of mercy.” His voice was thick with sleep.
Ally squeezed back into her seat and watched as he drifted off. Judging by the curve of his lips, he was having a pleasant dream.
Ignoring the words on her computer screen, she turned to stare out the window at the night sky, wishing she could escape with as much ease. She needed to be fresh when she arrived. But between business and these negative thoughts that kept flitting through her mind, she couldn’t seem to settle. If she had so badly misjudged Ted, what made her think she could trust her judgment in other things? Where was her life headed? She’d worked her way up from a low-level job at an auction house to a position as assistant to one of the executives at Harkness and Crewel. She was the hardest worker on the company’s payroll. She knew that if she just stayed the course, she would soon join the ranks of the executives. But though the work was satisfying, she wasn’t certain it was something she wanted to do for the rest of her life.
So what did she want?
The answer came instantly. Her own business, where she could call the shots. It would have to do with antiques, she knew. She had become something of an expert, as she’d always been attracted to the old and the odd.
She stifled a yawn. For now she would settle for a satisfying ending to that dream. She struggled to remember everything about it, but the thing that stayed in her mind wasn’t just the primitive landscape, or the lush gardens, or even the beauty of the manor house itself. It was that feeling of coming home.
She closed her eyes. If she concentrated hard enough, she might just be able to slip back there and finally meet her dream lover. She hovered on the edge, waiting for sleep to claim her, desperately craving the feeling of peace she’d sensed in her dream.
Something heavy brushed her, and she jerked awake to find that her seatmate had shifted until his head rested beside hers. Before she could shove him away, he moaned and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek.
At the sound of his own voice, he sat bolt upright, which only caused him to suck in a breath at the sudden, wrenching pain.
He swore softly and rubbed his aching shoulder. “Sorry. I seem determined to inflict myself on you even when I’m asleep.”
“It’s all right. I know how hard it is to get comfortable when you’re in pain.”
“I’m not sure I’d be as understanding if I were in your place. Tell me, have you ever been in this sort of pain?”
“No. But I watched my mother suffer, and saw the way my father was able to ease her pain with nothing more than a little tenderness.” She had a sudden thought. “Are you a doctor?”
“Afraid not. Why do you ask?” Despite the drugs, his eyes seemed clearer now. Cool blue, they peered into hers with such intensity that she flushed and looked down at her hands.
“I’ve heard that doctors who’ve had to suffer become more tolerant of their patients. It makes you more aware of another person’s pain.”
His smile was quick and sly as a rogue, and she felt it go straight to her heart. “So you’re saying that some good will come out of all this, and all my suffering will actually make me a better person?”
She couldn’t help laughing. “I didn’t realize I was preaching. But my mother used to say that a certain amount of suffering builds character.”
“I’ll remember that in the days to come when I’m gritting my teeth and swearing as I try to button my shirt.”
That only made Ally laugh harder. “I don’t think swearing comes under the heading of building character.”
He sat back, studying her with a bemused expression. “You really ought to laugh more often. You go from lovely to beautiful in the blink of an eye.”
At his unexpected compliment she could feel a sudden flush stealing over her cheeks.
Seeing that he’d caught her by surprise, he offered his good hand. “We’ve not been formally introduced. My name is Heath Stewart.”
“Allison Kerr.” The moment she placed her hand in his, she felt the most amazing rush of heat. It started in her fingertips and shot along her arm before settling deep in her core. “My friends call me Ally.”
“ ‘Allison’ is far too lovely a name to ever be reduced to ‘Ally.’ ”
She withdrew her hand, wondering if she’d just imagined that jolt. Still, the tremors continued to shudder along her spine, leaving her feeling oddly off balance.
He merely smiled. “Kerr. You’ve a bit of Scots blood in you.”
“Some. It was my father’s dream to visit the home of his ancestors.”
“Did he like it?”
“He never made it.”
“I’m sorry. And your mother?”
She ducked her head. “They’re both gone.”
“And now their daughter is fulfilling their dream.”
Ally shook her head. “I wish I could. But this trip is strictly business. After a few hours in your country, I’ll be on a plane heading home.”
“A pity to come all this way and see nothing of the place.”
“It is.” She sighed and clasped her hands, turning to look out at the darkened sky. “Maybe next time.”
Beside her his voice took on a low growl of anger. “I consider those three words to be the cruelest ever spoken.”
She glanced over and saw that his eyes had already closed, shutting her out. Perhaps she’d only imagined the edge to his tone. Or perhaps it was a combination of pain and sleep. Whatever the reason, it caused a tiny ripple of unease along her spine.
Maybe next time. How many times had she used that phrase? It ranked right up there with If only . . .
Annoyed with the direction of her thoughts, she snapped open her laptop and forced her mind back to her work. But every so often she found herself glancing at the sleeping man beside her and wondering what had set off that sudden flash of emotion. The depth of it seemed at odds with this quick wit and droll humor.
At some other time, in some other place, she might have enjoyed getting to know Heath Stewart better. Unfortunately, right now there just wasn’t time for anything more than the business that had brought her here.