Danielle Steel - Passion's Promise

“I was missing you, babe.” He grinned broadly as she spluttered and pulled the strands of wet hair from her eyes. She was naked, save for the ostrich-plumed slippers.

“Oh! You … you … bastard!” She pulled the slippers from her feet, tossed them out of the tub, and hit him in the shoulder with the flat of her hand. But she was fighting laughter too, and he knew it. He silenced her with a kiss and her arms went around him as he leaned down to kiss her. He shielded her from the sheets of steaming water, and she found her hands traveling down from his waist to his thighs.

“I knew you’d like it once you got in.” His eyes were bright and teasing.

“You’re a miserable, rotten, oversized bully, Lucas Johns, that’s what you are.” But the tone did not match the words.

“But I love you.” He oozed male arrogance and a sort of animal sensuality, mixed with a tenderness all his own.

“I love you too,” and as he closed his eyes to kiss her, she ducked him and directed the shower head full in his face, ducking down to nip playfully at one thigh.

“Hey, Mama, watch that! Next time you might miss!” But where he feared she would bite him, she kissed him, as the shower rippled through her hair and down her back, warming them both. He pulled her up slowly, his hands traveling over her body, and their lips met as he pulled her high into his arms and settled her with legs wrapped around his waist.

“Kezia, you’re crazy.”

“Why?” They were comfortably ensconced in a rented limousine, and she looked totally at ease.

“This isn’t the way most people travel, you know.”

“Yeah. I know.” She smiled sheepishly at him, and nibbled his ear. “But admit it, it’s fun.”

“It certainly is. But it gives me one hell of a guilt complex.”

“Why?”

“Because this isn’t my style. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

“Then just shut up and enjoy it.” She giggled, but she knew what he meant. She had seen other worlds too. “You know, Luke, I’ve spent half of my life trying to deny this way of life, and the other half giving in to it and hating it, or hating myself for being self-indulgent. But all of a sudden, it doesn’t bother me, I don’t hate it, it doesn’t even own me anymore. It just seems like a hell of a funny thing to do, and why not?”

“In that light, it isn’t so bad. You surprise me, Kezia. You’re spoiled and you’re not. You take this stuff for granted, and then again you laugh at it like a little kid. I dig it like this. You make it fun.” He looked pleased as he lit a cigar. She had armed him with a box of Romanoff Cubans.

“I dig it like this, too. Like this, my love, it’s a whole other trip.”

They held hands in the back of the limousine and JFK Airport appeared much too soon. The glass window had been up between them and the chauffeur, and Kezia pressed the button to lower the window, to remind him which terminal they wanted. Then she buzzed the window back into place.

“Sweetheart, you’re a bitch.”

“That’s a nice contradiction.”

“You know what I mean.” He looked briefly at the window.

“Yeah. I do.”

They exchanged the supercilious smile of people born to command, one by her heritage, the other by his soul. They rode the rest of the way in silence, holding hands. But something inside Kezia quivered at the thought of his leaving. What if she never saw him again? What if it had all been a fling? She had bared her soul to this stranger, and left her heart unguarded, and now he was going.

But in his own silence, Luke had the same fears. And those weren’t his only fears. He had felt it in his gut. Cop cars were all the same, pale blue, drab green, dark tan, with a tall shuddering antenna on the back He could always feel them, and he had felt this one. And now it was tailing them at a discreet distance. He wondered how they had known he was at Kezia’s. It made him wonder if they had followed him that night from Washington, if even on the late-night walk to her apartment, he had been tailed. They were doing that more and more lately. It wasn’t just near the prisons. It was getting to be everywhere now. The bastards.

The chauffeur checked Luke’s bags in for him, while Kezia waited in the car. It was only a few moments before Luke stuck his head back in the car.

“You coming to the gate with me, babe?”

“Is this like the shower or do I have a choice?” They grinned at each other with the memory of the morning.

“I’ll let you use your judgment on this one. I trust mine in the shower.”

“So do I.”

He looked at his watch and her smile disappeared.

“Maybe you’d better stay here, and just go back in to the city. It would be stupid for you to get into a lot of hassles.” He shared her concern. He knew what it would do to her to have a fuss made in the papers, in case someone saw them. And he was no Whitney Hayworth III. He was Lucas Johns, and newsworthy in his own right, but not in a way that would have been easy for Kezia. And what if the cops in the blue car approached him? It could ruin everything with her, might scare her off.

She held her arms out to kiss him, and he leaned toward her.

“I’m going to miss you, Lucas.”

“I’ll miss you too.” He pressed his mouth down hard on hers, and she stroked the hair on the back of his head. His mouth tasted of toothpaste and Cuban cigars; it was a combination that pleased her. Clean and powerful, like Luke.

Straightforward, and alive.

“God, I hate to see you go.” Tears crept close to her eyes, and suddenly he withdrew.

“None of that. I’ll call you tonight.” And in a flash, he was gone. The door thumped discreetly shut, and she watched his back as he strode away. He never turned back to look, as silent tears slid down her cheeks.

She left the window to the chauffeur as it had been. Closed. She had nothing to say to him. The drive back to the city was bleak. She wanted to be alone with the cigar smoke, and her thoughts of the day and two nights before. Her thoughts rambled back to the present. Why hadn’t she gone to the gate with him? What was she afraid of? Was she ashamed of him? Why hadn’t she had the balls to …

The window sped down abruptly and the driver looked in the rearview mirror in surprise.

“I want to go back.”

“Excuse me, miss?”

“I want to go back to the airport. The gentleman forgot something in the car.” She pulled an envelope from her handbag and clutched it importantly in her lap. A flimsy excuse, the guy had to think she was nuts, but she didn’t give a damn. She just wanted to get back there in time. A time for courage had come. There was no turning back now, and Luke had to know that. Right at the start.

“I’ll take the next exit, miss, and double back as soon as I can.”

She sat tensely in the back seat, wondering if they would get there too late. But it was hard to argue with the chauffeur’s driving, as he weaved in and out of lanes, passing trucks at terrifying speeds, all but flying. They pulled up outside the terminal twenty minutes after they had left it, and she was out the door almost before the driver had brought the car to a full stop at the curb. She darted through traveling executives, old women with poodles, young women with wigs, and tearful farewells, and breathlessly she looked up to check the gate number for the flight to Chicago.

Gate 14 E. Damn … at the far end of the terminal, almost the last gate. She was racing, and her hair pulled free of its tight, elegant knot Talk about a story! She laughed at herself as she pushed through people and came close to knocking down children. The paparazzi would have a field day with this—heiress Kezia Saint Martin dashing through airport, knocking people down, for a kiss from ex-con agitator Lucas Johns. She choked on a bubble of laughter as she covered the last yards of the race and saw that she had made it in time. The vast expanse of his shoulders and back was filling the open doorway at the gate. She had just made it.