The Last Man She'd Marry. Helen R. Myers
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at Grace, who’d abandoned the front door to stand before her. No doubt she found her tone discomforting, or wanted her mistress, or would like the front door open to just escape. “You were more help than you know,” she told E.D., managing to sound almost tender. “I’m sorry for being such a—anyway, give that luscious baby a kiss for me.”
“How sweet. I’ll give him two. Call me anytime.”
Once Alyx heard E.D. disconnect, she shut off her phone, immediately diving into introspection. Contrary to what she’d said, she hadn’t really learned anything she didn’t already know, and she’d been trained by the best to be skeptical of support or flattery.
You learned that she and Dylan thought Jonas had been sincerely disappointed in being rejected.
It was hopeless—and perfect. Confirmation that she was a hard-hearted, cold witch. Hurrah, she thought grimly. She hadn’t lost her edge one iota, bad news for the Realtor who wanted to sell her Austin house, but terrific for her Texas clients, who wanted blood from estranged spouses; they, at least, would be popping corks when they heard that reassuring news.
Seeing Grace shift on her plainly stiff legs, Alyx put a quick end to the self-deprecation. “Gracie, if I look half that bad when I wrangle myself off the machines at the health club, you have permission to bite me if I accidentally bump into you or stroke you too hard. Now what do you say we get your stiff-joint medicine? That’s about all I know for wrecks like us, until your mommy checks in to suggest something more.”
At the sound of Mommy Grace started whining.
“Oh, jeez.” Alyx leaned over to gently stroke the dog. “I’m sorry, Grace. I’m sorry. I know I’m no replacement by a long shot, but I’m trying—I’ll try to do better, okay?”
The greyhound stepped closer to rest against her and sighed.
It was too ridiculous to be believable, but Alyx closed her eyes. History had shown her that there were few perfect moments in life, yet this sure felt like one of them. Hoping she could mimic that heartfelt sound, Alyx sighed, too.
Chapter Three
Jonas repressed a surge of humiliation as he dialed Dylan Justiss’s private cell phone number, but he managed to hold on until he heard his old friend’s rebuke.
“About time.”
“Figured you’d deleted me from your address book by now,” Jonas replied with equal aplomb. His, however, was mostly bravado.
“You know better than that.”
“Yeah, sure. Listen, I’m sorry for the unanswered calls.”
“What ignored calls?”
That had Jonas’s mouth corners curling downward. He knew that Dylan was both letting him off the hook and making sure Jonas understood that he’d slipped badly with their friendship. At the time, he’d felt there was no recourse, and yet, as days slipped into weeks, and weeks into months, he knew he deserved whatever Dylan wanted to say.
“I’m sure there’s an appropriate quote about pride to mouth right now, but I can’t remember it, and you don’t deserve to suffer through it.”
“Stuff the eloquence, Hunter. You were never good at it.”
That won a choked laugh from Jonas. “That might finally be sinking in. Thanks for sticking in there.”
“Well, you know how we analytical types are, I needed to know the answer to the riddle. What happened and how are you?”
“You haven’t talked to E.D. this afternoon?” Jonas countered.
“Should I have?”
“I thought maybe…never mind.”
“Don’t start that. What’s up?”
Jonas drew a deep breath. He was sure Alyx had run straight home and had called E.D. to vent. Didn’t all women do that? His ex sure had. Claudia would call her mother and then everyone else in the family tree down to second cousins—another reason to avoid getting involved with southern belles. For their part, Alyx and E.D. had grown particularly close during E.D.’s divorce, and Alyx had said that while the svelte, blond DA had a disgusting weakness for Dylan, she was one of the few people she could trust with a secret. He’d still had his doubts.
“I ran into Alyx,” he muttered.
“Is that so? Alyx is out of town, maybe out of state from what I can discern from E.D.’s cryptic comments.”
“Sedona, Arizona, to be exact.”
“Has the divorce rate suddenly skyrocketed there?”
He had to know that she wasn’t yet able to resume her usual work schedule. “I don’t know what’s going on, all I know is that it’s just too suspicious to have both of us decide to take leave from our jobs in separate parts of the country and end up in the same place.”
“What’s your reason?”
“My original flight instructor busted his leg. These days he runs an air-tours business and asked if I could cover for him for a few weeks. He’s ex-FBI, too. Back in my mustang days, his was, more or less, the last push I needed to go with the Bureau.”
“Good grief, are you saying he crashed and you’re now in those hot-air contraptions?”
“Much better. I’m flying his First World War facsimile biplanes.”
Dylan uttered something indistinguishable. “You’re worse than certifiable. I hope you at least know that?”
“They’re the modern Waco rendition. It’s a little eccentric, I’ll admit, but not as bad as you think. No acrobatics involved, just smooth, wide turns and gentle landings. Everything to assist adventurous tourists in procuring the optimum photographs to bring them back for another visit.”
“The question is, can you bring yourself back to earth in one piece? I know a little about the terrain over there. It could get pretty wild trying to find a suitable landing spot on short notice.”
The topography was a challenge; nevertheless, the highways were excellent and certainly not as heavy with traffic as in metropolitan areas. This was an experience Jonas was glad not to have missed out on.
“And you can take that much time from the job?”
“I have plenty of time built up,” Jonas replied evasively. “Look, are you sure E.D. didn’t say something about Alyx?”
“Nothing beyond the concern about her, about both of you.” After a few seconds Dylan added, “You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I guess I’m still somewhat—I’m getting too old to play games.”
“She wasn’t playing games with you,” Dylan ground out. “Good God, what’s the correct way to behave after coming upon a butchering and almost dying yourself?”
Jonas had gone through all of this dialogue already, had witnessed her being wheeled out to the ambulance and had tried to be supportive and patient, giving Alyx all the time she needed to recover physically and get her balance psychologically. They’d been in the early days of a hot and heavy affair when they’d been thrown into that meat chopper of a bad situation. Regardless of all his attempts to be there for her, even when necessity had demanded he return to Washington, D.C., she’d been the one to sever ties, not him.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But better than what she did.”
“What’s really got you all bent out of shape now?” Dylan asked. “Get a bad MRI or CAT-scan report after an assignment?”
“Not quite like that. But I guess I’m still trying to find grace under pressure while I work out what’s increasingly an uncertain professional future.” No one liked to share bad news and this wasn’t the moment to elaborate on his.