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She handed the phone to Dr. Myerson, who didn’t look as though he wanted to talk to Mona.
“Hello?” he snapped as he took the phone.
Tabitha sat wondering if this tour was to be the shortest one on record, ending only minutes after it had begun.
“We will now begin boarding Flight one-nine-eight to San Francisco. All first-class passengers are invited to board now, please.”
Tabitha stood and reached out for the phone. “I’m sorry, but we have to board now.”
He handed her the phone, not looking any happier than he’d been before he learned of Mona’s accident. He folded the newspaper he’d been reading, stuck it under his arm, picked up his laptop and headed for the gate without saying a word.
Okay, so the good doctor had major attitude.
Tabitha picked up her briefcase and followed him onto the plane. He might think he could ignore her, but he had another think coming.
Alex knew he’d been rude. But the events of the morning were a complete disaster. He hadn’t wanted to go on this tour in the first place, despite his publisher’s insistence.
After he’d met Mona, he’d finally agreed. A pleasant woman approaching fifty, Mona didn’t flirt or try to get too personal. In fact, she’d assured him she was only there to make his trip run smoothly.
Since this was his first foray into a real social situation since his beloved Jenny had died a year ago, Alex had been worried. Mona had put him at ease. He’d even stopped dreading the tour.
Until this morning.
When he discovered the sexy blonde in the sleek designer suit was replacing the comfortable Mona, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t look at her. He was going to spend six weeks with this woman? He wouldn’t survive. How could he get out of the tour?
His options faded as the plane pushed away from the gate. Panic built in him.
The blue-eyed blonde leaned over. “Are you a bad flier, Dr. Myerson?” There was sympathy in her voice, which made him even angrier.
“No, I’m not!”
Rather than retaliate, which he deserved, she put her briefcase on her lap and opened it, drawing out a folder on San Francisco. She ignored him as she read.
Finally he muttered in a low voice, “I’m sorry, Miss Tyler, but I’m not sure this tour should continue. Mona—I was comfortable with her.”
“I’m not surprised. Mona is a comfortable friend, isn’t she? But if she loses this tour, she’s afraid she might lose her business. That’s why I’m here. I just finished teaching and am now on summer vacation. This tour was not in my plans, but I’ll do my best to make it successful, if you’ll give me a chance.”
That was the longest speech of their short acquaintance.
Alex drew a deep breath. “I’m used to being left alone, but I still shouldn’t have been such a bear this morning. You took me by surprise.”
“I’m sure it was a shock. I’ll try to limit our interaction.” Her voice was cool, unemotional. “Mona received some likely questions for your first interview this afternoon. Do you want to read them, or shall I read them to you and let you practice your response?”
“I’ll read them,” he said, returning to his grouchy demeanor.
She handed him the paper without comment.
It only took thirty seconds for him to erupt again. “I can’t answer these questions!” he exclaimed and practically threw the paper in her face.
Catching the paper, she read the questions.
He turned his head toward the window, not wanting her to see how upset he was.
“Dr. Myerson, what is your book about?”
He turned around to stare at her. “You’re my publicist and you don’t even know what it’s about?” he thundered.
The stewardess popped up beside their seats. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, we’re fine,” Tabitha said calmly. “But it would be nice to have something to drink.”
“Of course. What can I get you?”
“I’d like a diet cola. Dr. Myerson, would you care for something to drink?”
“Yes, thank you. I’d like an orange juice,” he said.
They sat silently for several minutes, then his companion reminded him, “I only agreed to go yesterday afternoon, Dr. Myerson. Certainly I’ll read your book as soon as possible. I asked about your book because I’m not sure why these questions are unacceptable.”
“Those are personal questions. I don’t talk about my personal life!” He wanted to be sure she understood where he was drawing the line.
“And why does your book draw these kinds of questions?”
“It’s—it’s about my marriage.”
“And you think your wife will object?”
He hesitated. Then he said firmly, “Yes.”
Bending over, he took a book out of his laptop bag. “Here. You can read on the plane.”
“Thank you. While I’m reading, you need to think of alternative questions that you think will best sell your book. We can’t leave an interviewer with nothing to say.”
He glowered at her, but her statement made sense. Reluctantly, he pulled out pen and paper and put down his tray. “Fine. I’ll write some questions.”
Tabitha feared Dr. Myerson’s book would be as difficult to read as he was to talk to. How Mona had thought it would do him good to be interviewed, Tabitha didn’t know.
She settled back in her seat and opened Making the Most of Life. Based on what she’d seen of him, she didn’t think the title was appropriate for this man.
Before she started reading, she checked the dust jacket for his bio. There was no picture and only a short blurb, saying Dr. Alex Myerson had been educated in the east, where he was awarded a Ph.D. He’d had a successful New York City practice before moving to Texas. A few words, Tabitha thought, just like the man himself.
Opening to page one, she began to read. It was hours later when she finally closed the book, her emotions stirred. The book was a personal exploration of the marital relationship between Dr. Myerson and his wife, Jenny.
“You’re a fast reader,” he said, snapping her from her thoughts.
“Yes, I enjoy reading.” She paused, trying to think how to pose the next question she had to ask. “Your book is wonderful. It’s also very personal. Don’t you understand why the interviewer might want to ask personal questions?”
His jaw squared and he stared straight ahead. “No personal questions.”
“May I see the questions you’ve devised?”
He handed over a piece of paper. Tabitha slowly read what he’d written. They demonstrated the man’s intelligence, if the book hadn’t already done so. What fascinated her was the difference between the man beside her and the man who’d written the book. The author had had such warmth, such caring. He and his wife shared such a beautiful existence, all because his wife had taught him to enjoy life.
Though wealthy, Alex was the product of a miserable marriage, which had provided him with a miserable childhood. He had studied psychology to learn to deal with his own problems in life. And because of his parents’ debacle, he’d determined never to marry.
Until he met Jenny.
“Your wife sounds like a wonderful person, Dr. Myerson. Are you sure she would object to all the questions about your marriage?”
“Yes, all of them.”
Tabitha sighed. Mona hadn’t warned her how difficult the man could be. She looked at his questions again. Taking out a pen, she made some changes that would personalize the questions a little more, but would not totally focus on the man’s own life.
Then she handed the paper back to him. “Can you live with these?”
He took the paper back and reread the questions with her changes.
Tabitha was patient, relaxing in her seat and sipping what was left of her soda.
“You’re not a dumb blonde, are you?”
“Shall I take that as a compliment, Dr. Myerson?” She was working awfully hard to satisfy this man. Mona really owed her!
“Yes. I misjudged you, Miss Tyler. Yes, I can accept these questions, as long as you explain to the interviewer that I do not want to talk about my personal life.”
“I’ll do the best I can, Dr. Myerson, but I can’t control these people.”
“Did you have that problem when you did your tour?”
“Absolutely. All the men wanted to discuss my sex life. All the women wanted to know what I ate, implying that I lived on watercress sandwiches.”
His chuckle seemed to surprise both of them, as if he hadn’t laughed in a long time. “I can see their point,” he finally said.
Gently, she said, “After reading your book, I can understand why they would want to ask you about your marriage.”
He stared out the window, saying nothing.
Suddenly, a horrible thought struck her. “Oh, no! You haven’t just gone through a divorce, have you? Because someone will find out and it will destroy the tour. Tell me now if that’s the case.”
Glaring at her, he shook his head. “That’s not the case!”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Then we’ll be all right, as long as you don’t lose your cool. If they ask you something personal, just steer it toward generalizations. I’m sure your wife won’t mind that.”
At that moment the flight attendant interrupted to serve them lunch. Tabitha abandoned any pretense of conversation. It was hard enough when she was concentrating on it, but she wanted to enjoy her meal.
Not surprisingly, Myerson remained silent too. She took the opportunity to sneak a glance at her companion and study him surreptitiously. His jawline looked as if it was chiseled from granite, hard and sharp-edged, and the firm set of his mouth added to his imposing look.
Still, she knew he had a sensitive side, though it had yet to show itself. Jenny, his wife, no doubt had brought it out in him. Was that it? she wondered suddenly. His moodiness was a result of missing her? She could help that.
“Dr. Myerson, if you want your wife to join you for part of the trip, I can arrange flights for her. Just let me know.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Really, Mona wants you to be happy, and after reading your book, it’s easy to see how close you are to Jenny, so I’d be glad to—”
“No, she can’t join me!” His voice was harsh again.
“Why not?”
She thought he wasn’t going to answer her question. But he finally did. “Because she’s dead, Miss Tyler. Now will you leave it alone?”
Mona certainly hadn’t told her that. “I’m sorry. When—”
“A year ago today.”
Alex hadn’t intended to tell anyone of Jenny’s death. He had kept his mourning to himself. Jenny hadn’t had family, and his didn’t care, so he’d tried to appear as if nothing had happened.
He’d begun the book a couple of months before Jenny had failed to return from the store one evening. That night several police officers had knocked on his door, telling him a truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and killed three people. Jenny was one of the victims. He’d finished the book as a posthumous tribute to his wonderful wife.
He was sure, however, that he couldn’t talk about Jenny during the interviews. He’d lose emotional control. And he didn’t want people to buy his book because they pitied him.
Staring out the window the rest of the flight, he said nothing to the young woman beside him. She was even more beautiful than Jenny, and unlike his wife she had the gift of life. He hoped she appreciated it.
When they finally left the plane, she offered to carry his laptop case for him, in addition to her own briefcase. Did she think grief had incapacitated him?
That thought angered him even more.
He didn’t want to think about his grief.
“No thanks,” he ground out. “I’m fine.”
“Very well.” She went down the aisle ahead of him. When they reached the walkway, she said, “I’ll meet you at the baggage claim.”
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“I’m going to the ladies’ room. Did you want to accompany me?”
“No,” he growled. He’d deserved that response, he supposed. But she sure wasn’t Mona.
He already had his bags off the baggage carousel when she found him.
“Show me your bags and I’ll get them for you,” he said. It was his way of apologizing again.
“No need. I have a porter with me,” she assured him. “Oscar, these are Dr. Myerson’s bags, if you want to put them on the trolley.” A minute later she pointed to the carousel. “Oh, there they are. Those two tan bags. Thank you, Oscar,” she added as the porter snagged her bags. “Now we need a taxi, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Right this way, Miss Tyler,” Oscar said.
Alex frowned. She’d certainly gotten friendly with the man in a short period of time.
