Annie flushed. "That's one thing about you, Chase Cooper. You always did have a way with words. I thought I told you, Milton is a professor at the college."
"He's a limp-wristed twit, and I'll bet anything you're taking one of his dumb courses. What is it this time? How To Speak Sixteenth-Century English In A Twenty-First Century World? Fifty Ways To Turn Simple Thoughts Into Total Obfuscation?"
"Obfuscation," Annie said, batting her lashes. "I'm impressed."
"Yeah, well, I'm not. How can you be so gullible? Flocking to dumb courses given by jerks with too many initials after their names..."
"You have a lot of initials after your name, Mr. Cooper. But, of course, you're not a jerk."
"You're damn right, I'm not. At least I've got some calluses on my hands. I know the meaning of honest labor."
"Sorry, Chase. You've lost the right to use that word. 'Honest' does not apply, after the whopper you told our daughter."
"Is that how you met him?"
"Who?"
"Hoffman. Am I right? Did you take a course he taught?"
"Milton is a Shakespearean scholar with an outstanding reputation."
"In what? Seducing married women?"
Annie's eyes flashed. "I am not a married woman. Yes, I took a course he taught and yes, he writes poetry. Beautiful poetry, which I'm sure is beyond your comprehension. Unfortunately, since I know it'll disappoint you to hear this, Milton is not gay."
Chase folded his arms over his chest. "I suppose you speak from personal experience," he said, and felt his stomach clench.
Annie barely hesitated. Why worry about telling a lie to the master of the art? "Of course," she said, with a little smile.
Chase's jaw tightened. This was a moment for some cleverly sarcastic remark. Unfortunately, his mind was a blank. No, that wasn't true. It had filled with an image of Annie in Hoffman's arms, of his fist connecting with Hoffman's narrow jaw.
"How nice for you both," he said coldly.
Annie tossed her head. "We think so."
"So, when's the big day?"
"What big...?" She swallowed. "You mean, the wedding?" She shrugged and mentally crossed her fingers. "We, ah, we haven't set an actual date yet. And you?"
"And me, what?"
"When are you and Janet tying the knot?"
Knot was right. Chase could feel the noose, slipping around his throat.
"Soon."
"This summer?"
"It depends. I've got this project starting in Seattle."
"And, of course, that comes first."
"It's an important job, Annie."
"I'm sure it is. And I'm sure Janet understands that."
"She does, yes. She knows it takes twenty hours out of a twenty-four-hour day to take a firm like the one my old man left me to the top."
"Better her than me."
"You're damned right!"
They glared at each other, both of them remembering-just in case it had slipped their minds-how glad they were not to be living with each other anymore, and then Chase turned away.
"I've got a plane to catch," he said.
"That's it. Just take off. Turn your back on the mess you made."
"Dammit, what would you like me to do? I'm due in Seattle for a site inspection tomorrow afternoon. Hell, what am I talking about?" Frowning, he pushed back the sleeve of his sweater and checked his watch. "It's this afternoon."
"Run away," Annie said coldly, folding her arms, "before we've even finished talking or found a solution to the problem you created."
"Fine. You want to talk? You can drive me to my hotel so I can pick up my things. Then you can drive me to the airport."
Fifteen minutes to his hotel, Annie thought, eyeing him narrowly, and then forty more to Bradley Airport. One hour, more or less. Surely she could survive that much time in his company if it meant they might come up with a plan.
"All right," she said, then hesitated. Maybe she should go upstairs and change...? No. What for? Chase deserved to be driven to the airport by a woman in an Oscar the Grouch sweatshirt.
"Well?" she said impatiently, sweeping her car keys from a hook on the wall. "What are you waiting for, Chase? Let's go."
* * *
Annie waited in her car while Chase collected his suitcase from his hotel room.
Offering to drive him to the airport hadn't been such a great idea.
They hadn't come up with one single good idea during the time it had taken them to get here. And sitting so close to Chase in the bucket seats of her little Honda made her, well, uncomfortable. He was too big for the car. His thigh was right there, an inch from her own. His shoulder brushed hers, on a tight turn, and his aftershave wafted in the air.
The sooner she got rid of him, the better.
"Okay," she said, once he was seated beside her again, "what airline?"
"West Coast. Something like that." He dug into his pocket as she pulled the car into traffic. "Here's the ticket. West Coast Air, that's it."
"How original," Annie said with a tight smile. "Must be new. What terminal is it at? A or B?"
"What do you mean, A or B?"
"Bradley's got two terminals," she said patiently. "One's A. One's B. I need to know which we're going to."
"We're not going to Bradley."
Annie looked at him. "We're not?"
"I'm flying out of Logan. In Boston. I thought you understood that."
Boston. A two-hour drive, instead of forty minutes. Annie's hands felt sweaty on the steering wheel.
"Boston," she said faintly. "I don't think..."
"My flight leaves at noon. Will we make it? Maybe I should phone the airline. If there's another flight in an hour or two, we could stop for a bite to eat first."
"Don't be silly." Annie glanced at the dashboard clock. "I'll get you there in plenty of time," she said, and jammed her foot to the floor.
* * *
They got to the airport with twenty minutes to spare.
Annie stopped her car at a stretch of curb marked No Parking. Chase opened his door and got out.
"Well," he said, "thanks for the lift."
She nodded. "You're welcome."
"Sorry we didn't come up with a solution."
"Yes. Me, too."
"As soon as the kids get home..."
"I'll call you."
"We'll figure out something, by then."
"Sure."
"Dawn's a good kid. She'll understand, if we decide to make a clean breast of things."
"Chase. Your plane."
"Oh. Right. Right." Chase slammed the car door. "Well..."
"Goodbye," Annie said. She stepped on the gas and drove off.
A block away, she pulled to the curb. Her heart was racing and her eyes felt grainy.
Why had they quarreled over so many silly things? Why had they sniped at each other?
"Because you're mismatched," she whispered, answering her own questions. "You were always mismatched. It's just the sex that kept you from realizing the truth-"
Annie frowned. What was that, on the floor in front of the passenger seat? She bent down and scooped a long white envelope from the floor.
It was Chase's airline ticket.
"Damn," she said, and threw the car into a rubber-burning U-turn.
* * *
He wasn't in the terminal, or maybe he was. There were people milling around everywhere; how could she be certain?
Annie raced to look at the Departures screen. Where had he said he was going? Seattle, that was it. On West Coast Air. There it was. Gate Six.
She flew through the ticket area, through the lounge, toward the gate. She almost stopped at the security checkpoint when the guard asked to see her ticket, but then she remembered that was the reason she was here, that she had a ticket clutched in her hand, and she waved it at him and hurried through.
Where was Chase?
There! There he was! Her relief at finding him diminished everything else, including how he'd managed to clear security without a ticket.
"Chase," she yelled, "Chase!"
He turned at the sound of her voice. "Annie?" She saw his face light. "Annie," he said again, and opened his arms.
She told herself later that she hadn't meant to run to him, that she'd simply been going too fast to stop. But the next thing Annie knew, she was locked in Chase's embrace.
"Annie," he said softly, "baby."
And then her arms were around his neck and his hands were in her hair and they were kissing.
"Chase," she whispered shakily, "your ticket..."
"It's okay," he said, against her lips. "Don't talk. Just kiss me."
She did, and it was just the way it had always been. The sweetness of the kiss. The sheer joy of it, and then the rush of excitement that came of being in Chase's arms...