The Last Man She'd Marry. Helen Myers R.

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      “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. Who knew—right now it was looking like a relief that things weren’t going to turn out as he’d first hoped. “I’ll let you know the details when I get back to D.C.”

      “I’ve still got several minutes before my next appointment.”

      “I appreciate that, but…”

      After another uncomfortable silence, Dylan said, “Whatever you want to do. Jonas, listen…I’m sorry that I came down a little hard on you—”

      “You didn’t.”

      “Well, from the little E.D. shared, Alyx deserves support and protection. That’s where I was coming from.”

      “Fair enough.”

      “Don’t hesitate to call. I mean it. And take care.”

      “I will. And I’ll be in touch.”

      “I’ll hold you to that.”

      

      Jonas knew Dylan would keep his word and want an update soon. That did nothing to improve his mood for the rest of the evening. Jonas had survived a divorce, managed to keep a decent relationship with his now fifteen-year-old son, and had been holding his breath for an anticipated promotion. When Alyx Carmel had entered his world like a tsunami, he’d been blindsided. He’d never been attracted to female renditions of himself—professional and driven. In fact, he’d avoided dating anyone inside the Bureau or even within coagencies. Yet five minutes after he’d entered her office last year to support Dylan and E.D. during E.D.’s rough divorce, Alyx had him under a spell he had yet to break free of.

      He couldn’t sleep without being pulled into some intoxicating dream about her. Last night’s had been a fuse-buster, a reminder of their first night together.

      

      “Why did you agree to join me for dinner?” Jonas asked as they sat across a candlelit table from one another. “You know I’m only here for a brief stay.”

      “You offered me a drink,” Alyx replied. “The invitation to dinner was mine.”

      So it was—a thank-you for helping Dylan help E.D. It struck Jonas, as he’d eyed the steak and lobster plate a waiter suddenly placed before him, that he was tangled in his own web. He’d come after Alyx unabashedly only to find himself snared, and yet the time between ordering and drinking a half glass of shiraz had been one of the most provocative yet awkward times he’d spent with a date. He would ask her a question about herself and if she answered, it was with a single word, “yes” or “no,” then asked nothing in return. He’d never felt so inept. Every clever word, his gift for disarming and charming, was a total flop.

      It was those smoky СКАЧАТЬ