“This message came in for you while you were on the phone.” He handed her a pink slip. Liza Watson. Producer, the Today show. Calling about DS appearance. Call back ASAP.
Jessica let out a little gasp. The Today show. In New York – it was her ticket to Tony. “Stu-ey. You are my guardian angel.”
He grinned. “I knew you’d be happy about that one, although Stockard’ll balk at the travel. The T-38’s are all booked for a couple of weeks. Can they do a satellite feed?”
“No, it’s never as good. Our Commander can fly commercial for once. He’s not going to miss this interview. No way.” She treated Stuart to her brightest smile. “I’ll take him there myself.”
* * *
Within a few hours, she had finalized Deke’s appearance on the Today show for the following Monday morning. It had been so easy. The producer handed her off to an assistant, probably because the regular anchors had already started long holiday vacations. It wasn’t that big of an interview, especially since he’d go on air with a young stand-in anchor, Caroline Hunter. Jessica breathed a sigh of relief. Pure fluff and tons of it. Just what she wanted.
She arranged for them both to fly out Sunday night, giving Deke more time at the Cape. He could come home any time Monday after the interview and she would be on Tony Palermo’s calendar for a lunch meeting. Tony needed to see her to remember how much he liked her. No matter how well things were going, this disappearance was professional suicide.
Despite the threatening news from Carla, Jessica hummed an upbeat tune as she drove home, fixed some dinner, and waited for the call from Lydia Davis, the account contact in L.A. who’d escorted Deke to Burbank. She calculated the time difference and knew that the taping would start around eight East Coast time. She wondered what he’d say if she called to wish him luck. Something sarcastic, probably.
Lydia’s call came at precisely ten p.m. “I think you’ll be happy, Jess. He was damn good.”
“Really? Well, he’s—”
“He’s gorgeous, funny, smart, and sexy. You’ve got yourself a winner, girl,” Lydia cooed.
“He’s not mine. He’s NASA’s. And now, America’s.”
“Really? The way he talks about you, I figured, well… anyway, you watch the show. You’ll be happy. I’ve gotta go.”
A thrill slid through her. She couldn’t believe he’d say anything that wasn’t derogatory about PR in general and her plans in particular. She mentally replayed Lydia’s words right up to eleven thirty-five, when she turned up the volume on the TV facing her bed. She crossed her fingers in front of her chest and whispered, “Come on, Stockard. Amaze me.”
Leno seemed particularly sharp during his monologue. Then, he promoed Deke with a teaser, calling him ‘the coolest thing in a space suit since Clint Eastwood.’ Jeez. Deke would hate that.
He was Jay’s second guest after a young actor with three names who’d starred in a movie called The Sixth Sense. As Deke sauntered onto the set in a Hollywood black blazer and black collarless shirt, a band of anticipation squeezed her. Here you go, Commander. You gotta play ball in the big leagues.
Lydia had understated. Cool, funny, a little self-deprecating and completely in command of the interview, Deke adroitly handled Jay’s needling. He was divine. Pride and attraction and anxiety volleyed through her until the end of the seven-and-a-half-minute interview.
Then Jay brought out a breathtaking model from Sweden who was just announced as the cover girl for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition. As much as she wanted to switch off the TV, Jessica remained mesmerized, watching the lithe beauty flirt outrageously with Deke.
“Ven you get lonely in outer space, you read the issue, yes?” Her hand rested on his arm and she leaned her lush body closer to him.
“Only the articles, ma’am,” he quipped. Jessica imagined the feel of his muscular arm in the model’s hands and hated the sensation it caused in her stomach.
But this is what she wanted to have happen. It’s perfect. Let it go in the National Enquirer that these two started up a steamy affair after the taping of the show—
The jangling phone interrupted her thought. Of course, Bill Dugan or Jo would call to congratulate her. She grabbed the phone on the second ring.
“So, how’d I do?” Deke’s voice was low and sexy and Jessica thought she just might drown in the sound of it.
Leaning back into her stack of pillows, pure joy washed over her. “Nice wardrobe choice.”
“You expected my Navy uniform?”
She laughed. “I knew better than to counsel you on what to wear. You’d just do the opposite anyway. You were great.”
“Leno is funny as hell.” He sounded relaxed.
“You knew you’d get the inevitable bathroom in space question.”
“You called that one the day you were playing the pretend Today show,” he said.
It reminded her that she had to ruin the moment by telling him he had to travel again. “Speaking of the Today show, you’re booked for next Monday.”
“What? It better be a satellite feed.”
“Listen to the media mogul,” she teased. “No, you’ve got to do it in person, Deke. Please. This will be the last one for a while. It’s a stand-in anchor. Piece of cake. Please.”
He sighed. “At least it’s home. I could see my parents.”
His comment erased some of the guilt she had about pushing for the in-person interview for her own selfish reasons but left her a little curious about the family he had there. She started to ask, but something stopped her. She didn’t need to know about his perfect family.
“Good. We leave Sunday night.”
“We?”
She tried to sound noncommittal. “I have some other meetings there, so I thought I’d go to the set with you for moral support.”
“I don’t need it, sweetheart. But you’re always welcome.”
The tone in his voice and the endearment, however sarcastic, tantalized her. Oh, how she wanted to continue that train of thought. Not a good idea.
“Well, thanks for calling,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound as lame to him as it did to her.
“No problem. I figured you were still up critiquing the performance.”
“I’m surprised you had time, Deke. I figured you’d be having a late dinner with Helga the swimsuit model.”
“That’s my next call.”
She could only laugh a little in response. “Good night, Deke.”
Chapter Ten
Throngs of disheveled families, tense from travel with high-strung youngsters, packed every corner of Orlando International Airport. Jessica dodged a ten-year-old with his face stuck in a handheld video game as she rushed to make the pre-arranged seven o’clock meeting.
As she approached, she saw Deke at the gate, dressed casually in work boots, jeans, and a blue oxford shirt. His attention seemed riveted on the aircraft on the other side of the glass, but he turned just in time to catch her staring at him. Her mind raced to think of a neutral greeting that would hide the impact he always managed to have on her.
“You look confused.” He stood and stepped toward her.
Confused. That was one way of describing it. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re going to bite my head off or be a polite military man and take this bag.”
“I am polite.” He reached for the suitcase handle and rolled it to where he sat. “I made friends at the desk so you can sit next to me on the plane.”
Every muscle tightened at the thought of being thigh-to-thigh with him for three hours. “I thought we had pre-assigned seats.”
“We did, but somehow we weren’t together.” He smiled and moved his jacket so she could sit down. “But I rectified that. You’ll see when you check in.”
She tried to shrug casually. “I figured you’d want to sleep or read or second-guess the pilot.”
His slow smile was like a wake-up call to every female cell in her body, not that any of them were sleeping with him around. “You just
hate it when I mess with your careful planning, don’t you, Jessie?”
The nickname rolled off his lips. A name she’d rarely been called, a name that he made sound… sexy.
Determined not to let him know his effect on her, she reached for her handbag and checked out the line to the desk. Not too long. “At least the flight isn’t full. Still, I have to check in.”
“So you can escape to an empty seat?” He leaned closer and she caught his scent. Clean and masculine and... heady. “Don’t you want to try a one of your simulated interviews to get me ready for the big day tomorrow?”
“No need, Stockard. You’re a pro. I’ll just fire up my laptop and work. I won’t bother you a bit.” She walked away and took a place at the back of the line. After a moment, she looked back at him. He grinned lazily. She flashed a controlled smile in return.
Oh boy. It was going to be a long flight.
After the boarding call, they followed the routine of finding their row, storing luggage and getting settled in Twelve C and E. Seat D appeared to be blessedly empty.
He stowed her bag and coat and offered her a choice of the aisle or window before they sat down.
“You’d probably be more comfortable in the aisle, so I’ll take the inside.” She slipped into the window seat and he settled into the aisle seat.
“To be honest, I’d only be comfortable up there.” He pointed to the front of the plane. “This is not a natural place for me in any aircraft.”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of flying?”
His laughter rang through the quiet cabin. “No, Jessica. I just like to be in control.”
“Mmm. I know the feeling.”
“I’m sure you do.” He pushed his seat back and tried to stretch in the cramped space. “Are you afraid of flying?”
“I don’t like it. I know the statistics are in my favor.” She looked out the blackened window. “But they do go down.”
“Don’t worry. There’s no weather tonight and that’s the real problem in most cases. That and pilot error. This is a 727. It’s solid and has a phenomenal safety record. It’s pretty simple to fly.”
“Can you fly this, too?”
He raised a brow. “I can fly anything with wings.”
She turned to the window and studied his reflection in the glass, speckled with beads of condensation. As they taxied down the runway, the hushed, darkened plane and their proximity to one another invited intimacy. She decided to ask him something that she’d wondered about since the day she’d media trained him and he spoke fervently about ‘not coming home from work.’
“Are you ever afraid that you are going to die in… in your line of work?”
He didn’t answer immediately. “Not if I’m in control and I know everything’s been inspected and is functioning properly.” He ran his finger along the armrest. “But there’s no way to anticipate everything when you’re moving at hundreds of miles an hour, avoiding incoming missiles, or landing on a carrier in rough waters. You can only be about ninety-nine percent sure. Never a hundred.”
“Have you ever come close?” Jessica didn’t try to hide the concern and curiosity in her voice.
He nodded. “I had to bail out of an FA-18 in the Persian Gulf. It was hairy.” He waited a beat and looked at the window behind her, then back into her eyes. “I lost a really good buddy that same day.”
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t fight the natural response to touch his arm across the empty seat.
His deep sigh was from the heart. “He left behind a beautiful wife who was expecting their first child. Now that little guy is, well, however old you are in eighth grade. And he’s just as full of it as his dad was.” His smile broke the mood and she casually removed her hand. “Anyway, to answer your question, shit happens.”
His tone effectively closed the topic, leaving her to wonder if she’d opened a tender wound. When they reached cruising altitude, he paged through a magazine without reading a single article and she pulled out her laptop.
“Don’t you ever stop working?” he asked, his chin resting on his knuckles as he watched her.
“Only on special occasions. But I have a very important meeting with the president of the agency tomorrow and I want to prepare my notes. Will I bother you?”
“Not at all. Want to tell me about it so I can offer unsolicited advice?” He leaned over a little to look at the screen. She lowered it out of his view.
“No. Thank you.” That she’d left on an assignment only to get squeezed out of her position by the competition was the last thing Deke Stockard needed to know.
“Suit yourself. But I’m really good at—”
“Everything. I know.”
He laughed softly. “That’s right.” He closed his eyes and left her alone for the rest of the flight. She tried to think. To input her arguments to Tony. To prepare for her battle. But she remained acutely aware of the man next to her. Somehow, Deke Stockard managed to invade her every thought.
* * *
Jessica slept fitfully in her room at The Plaza following their late-night arrival in the city. By five o’clock, she was up and dressing, sipping coffee from room service and trying to organize her strategy for the day ahead. By six, she was ready to meet him in the lobby, walk to Rockefeller Center and then, after his interview was over, she’d plead her case with Tony Palermo.
As the elevator door opened, she saw Deke leaning against a white marble column near the front desk, reading a copy of The New York Times. He wore dark trousers and a coffee-colored sweater over a shirt and tie. He’d hooked his bomber jacket on one finger and had hung it over his shoulder, ready for the brisk temperatures.
At the sound of the elevator opening, he looked up with a gleam in his eye that jabbed straight to her heart. The tiniest moan escaped her lips.
Treating her to a half-grin, he folded the paper as she approached him.
“Morning.” His voice was soft, confidential, as though they shared a secret mission.
Jessica reached deep down for every ounce of professional training in her, but her true thoughts just came tumbling out. “You know, I sell a lot of products for a lot of companies, but you certainly have the best packaging.”
“Is that what I am? A product?” He groaned.
She turned as he helped her slip into the sleeves of her coat. “Sorry, but we’re positioning the brand, Deke. NASA is the brand and you are their top-selling commodity right now.”
He shook his head. “I hate being a commodity.”
As they nudged their way through the heavy glass doors, the icy December air stung their faces. Jessica took a deep, invigorating breath. “Oh, this is heavenly. Probably too much for your thin Florida blood. Want to take a cab?”
“You keep forgetting I go into space for a living. It’s cold there. I defer to you on the transportation.”
“Great. Let’s walk. It’s only eight or nine blocks.”
They started off down the sidewalk, assaulted by the temperature, the pungent aroma of exhaust fumes, and Manhattan’s constant din of trucks and traffic. They kept a brisk pace, their breath coming out in soft white puffs, their steps synchronized. When they turned the last corner and were met with the glorious sight of the giant Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, Jessica’s gasp broke their silence.
“Look, Deke!” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “Isn’t it beautiful? I love New York this time of year.”
“I used to come here every year with my family at Christmas,” he told her as they paused at a steel rail overlooking the world-famous Rockefeller Center skating rink. “My mother insisted we all see the Christmas Show at Radio City and eat goose at Luchow’s. It was the official start of Christmas.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining what it must have been like to have such unwavering family traditions. “Where do they live?”
“In the house where I grew up, in Westchester. My sister is in L.A. In fact, I saw her after the Leno taping. The senior
Stockards will never leave New York, but they have come down for a few weeks in the winter since I’ve been at the Cape.”
She longed to know more about his family, but a noisy and excited crowd gathering outside the studio diverted her attention. “We better get going, Deke.”
“Aren’t you going to brief me before this interview?”
She buried a pang of guilt for not doing a more thorough job of prepping him. “Just expect more of the same. Like Leno, People and the rest.”
He didn’t respond, his gaze riveted on the gathering mass of tourists. “What the hell—?”
She immediately saw the two homemade, hand-painted signs: “DEKE MAKES ME WEAK!” and “FLY ME TO THE MOON, DEKE STOCKARD!”
With a gleeful giggle, she punched him on the arm. “See? It’s working! It’s working!”
He muttered a curse and glared at her as they entered the elegant lobby of the NBC offices. “Will you stop gloating?”
But she couldn’t keep the smug smile off her face, all the way into the studio and through the introductions to the crew and producers. Her sense of victory stayed while she waited as Deke went through makeup and briefings. Liza Watson, the producer, confirmed that Deke was on after the 7:30 news update.
“I’m surprised it’s so early,” Jessica said to Liza as she settled in a visitor’s chair at the far side of the set. “You guys usually save the fluff for the 8:30 segment.”
“This isn’t fluff,” Liza responded coolly, sending an icy chill up Jessica’s spine. “Some Russian’s dying up in space. We don’t consider that fluff.”
Speechless, Jessica stared at the producer. Liza held up a finger to silence her and whispered into her headset.
“Quiet on the set. We’re going live in three… two… one.”
Chapter Eleven
The interviewer and Deke suddenly seemed a million miles away. Cameras and grips and lights blocked her way, but she could see Deke facing the eager young anchor as the news wrapped and a red light flashed at the studio door. Jessica had no way to warn him.