Risky Business. Jane Sullivan

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СКАЧАТЬ it back into his coat pocket. He reached for his wallet, grabbed the first bill he saw—a ten—and tossed it onto the bar. The blonde gave him a surprised look, but he was already off his bar stool and heading out of the lounge.

      He ran into the lobby, glanced out the window again and panicked when he didn’t see her. He burst through the revolving door onto the sidewalk, the cold winter wind slapping him in the face, just in time to see her pulling a cab door closed behind her.

      “Rachel!”

      He ran toward the cab, shouting her name, but the wind caught his words and blew them right back at him. The cab pulled away from the curb.

      He spun around and ran to another cab, leaped inside, slammed the door and pointed madly. “Follow that cab!”

      The driver, a gray-haired guy who seemed to be moving in slow motion, looked at him as if he was out of his mind.

      “I know,” Jack said impatiently. “Cliché. Just do it anyway, will you?”

      The man shook his head and hit the gas, accelerating quickly to keep the cab ahead of them in sight. It was no small task, since its driver seemed hell-bent on setting a new land speed record.

      “Stay with him,” Jack said.

      “Lots of traffic. I’ll give it a shot.”

      By going five miles over the speed limit, the driver managed to stay just one car behind the other cab. And the whole time, Jack was consumed by thoughts of the day he’d met Rachel and the incredible hours they’d spent together.

      That afternoon he’d gone by the Alamo in downtown San Antonio, partly because he had a little time to kill, and partly because it was one of his favorite places. She’d been out by the well behind the chapel, one of the only buildings in the Alamo complex left standing. He was first struck by her beauty, but it didn’t take long for him to discover that much more lay beneath her surface. After only a few minutes of conversation, he realized she knew more about the Alamo than he did, and that was saying a lot.

      After spending a good two hours talking about nineteenth-century history, Jack had been positively entranced. Later they’d had dinner together, then strolled along the Riverwalk. And then they’d done something that was impulsive even for him.

      As evening turned to dusk, their walk took them past the old Stonebriar Hotel. He didn’t know who made the first move toward it, but looking back, their thoughts had been so in tune that he imagined they must have done it together. Within minutes they’d checked in. He’d barely waited until they’d gotten into the elevator before he kissed her, and it was all they could do to get down the hall to their room before they came together in a fiery sexual encounter that made every other experience he’d ever had with a woman pale by comparison.

      Then he’d awakened the next morning to find her gone. No note, no phone message, no nothing. And he realized that while they’d talked endlessly about history, she’d sidestepped more personal conversation, leaving him with only three pieces of information about her: Her name was Rachel, she was from out of town and she was an architect. And that was it. And from that day forward, he’d fervently hoped that somehow, someway, someday, their paths would cross again. How could he have known it would be a thousand miles away in Denver, Colorado?

      All at once, the cab they were following accelerated, weaving hard to the right, then to the left, putting two more cars between them.

      “You’re losing them!” Jack told the driver.

      “The guy’s a maniac,” he muttered. “I’m doing the best I can.”

      Jack yanked two twenties out of his wallet and held them up. “You need to do better.”

      The driver had a sudden change of attitude and stomped the gas. “Hang on.”

      With a little creative maneuvering of his own, Jack’s driver managed to gain on the cab ahead of them. Every muscle in Jack’s body was tense, every nerve ending alive. He had to catch up to her. He had to.

      Then the light at the next intersection turned yellow. Jack’s driver slammed on the brake and brought their cab to a tire-squealing halt, while the other cab crossed the intersection and buzzed away.

      “Damn!” Jack said, smacking the back of the seat with his fist. He couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t believe he’d come so close to finding her, only to lose her again. He slumped back against the seat, still cursing under his breath.

      “Hey!” the driver said, “It’s stopping half a block up!”

      Jack sat up again, hope surging through him. Looking down the street, he saw that the cab had pulled up next to the curb and the woman was getting out. Her straight dark hair swung across her shoulders as she bustled herself and her packages through the door of a high-rise bank building.

      The light changed. Jack’s driver hit the gas, and a moment later he pulled up to the curb in front of the building into which she’d disappeared. Jack tossed him money, then leaped out of the cab and raced into the building. Scanning the lobby, he spotted her standing in a crowd near the elevators.

      As he sprinted toward her, a set of elevator doors opened and she got on. The crowd followed her, leaving just as big a crowd behind waiting for the next elevator. He pushed his way through the people with as much civility as he could given his desperation, getting dirty looks left and right. But he had to catch that elevator.

      The doors were closing.

      “Rachel!” he shouted.

      He reached over the shoulder of a man in front of him and tried to wedge his hand between the doors.

      “Hey, buddy!” the guy said. “Back off! The elevator’s full!”

      The doors closed, and the elevator began its ascent. Another came, and the people turned and hurried toward it, leaving Jack standing there alone, cursing his luck. Or lack of luck. This was a forty-story building, and thousands of people worked here. How would he ever find her?

      He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. In a moment he had the manager of the Fairfax Hotel on the line and told him something had come up and he’d have to reschedule his tour for later in the day. The man sounded a little annoyed, but Jack couldn’t have cared less.

      Then, as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket, he remembered that he did have one piece of information about Rachel. If she’d been telling him the truth about her profession, she was an architect.

      He strode back through the lobby, found the building management office, and a few minutes later he got what he was after: the names and addresses of five architectural firms housed within the building.

      He returned to the elevators, his body humming with anticipation, images of Rachel swirling through his mind. She was beautiful, but the world was full of beautiful women, and his attraction to her had gone way beyond that. Even though their time together could have been counted in hours, for maybe the first time in his life he’d been thinking about the possibility of making a relationship permanent.

      He’d find her. One way or the other, before this day was out, he’d find her. And if he had his way, he’d have her back in his arms again.

      2

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