The Secrets of Her Past. Emilie Rose

her watch. They’d arrive so late that she wouldn’t get more than a few hours’ sleep, and she’d be good for nothing in Dr. Drake’s office tomorrow.

      The doors slid open automatically, revealing an asphalt tarmac—not another parking lot. A half dozen planes were tethered in a row. Adam was already halfway to one small white aircraft with blue and silver stripes and three windows on the side. Her feet stalled. The cool air from the terminal swirled past her, blending with the warmth radiating from the pavement.

      He opened a door on the side and shoved her bag through it. Her brain screamed in protest. He turned and then did a double take, as if he’d only now noticed she wasn’t immediately behind him.

      “Are you coming?” He folded his arms and waited with one leg bent, staring at her through the dark sunglasses he’d lowered over his eyes. He presented an all too appealing picture—like a cologne advertisement for an adventurous man or something. “Madison, we need to get in the air.”

      Dear heaven. She wasn’t mistaken. They were traveling by plane. “I thought you and Andrew were deathly afraid of flying after that near-miss midair accident when you were kids.”

      “I don’t run from my fears.”

      But Andrew had. Goose bumps danced across her skin as awareness drifted over her like a chilling mist. How could she have missed that when she’d been married to the man for five years? But the moment she heard Adam say the words she recognized the truth. Every vacation she and her husband had ever taken had been within driving distance. They’d either stayed in a hotel or the family’s pop-up camper.

      She looked at the tiny aircraft and apprehension tickled her spine. “That is our plane?”

      “It’s a Piper Seminole, a safe one. Fast, too.”

      She swiveled her head from side to side. There wasn’t anyone else nearby. “Where’s our pilot?”

      “You’re looking at him.”

      Her mouth dried and adrenaline raced through her veins. “You own a plane?”

      “In partnership with several surgeons at the hospital.”

      He closed the distance between them, then pushed up the dark lenses. His steady gaze held hers. “Madison, I became a pilot so I could understand what happened that day and make sure it didn’t happen to me again. You’ll be safe with me—safer than on the interstate in Andrew’s old truck. Once we get in the air you’ll see some amazing scenery, and in a couple hours you’ll be on the ground again.”

      She wasn’t convinced.

      He huffed an impatient breath. “Flying will save you ten hours of travel time round trip each week.”

      When he put it that way... “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m a little apprehensive. I’ve never flown before.”

      “Conquer your fears, Doc, or they’ll conquer you. Trust me, you’ll love it once we’re airborne.”

      Trust a man who detested her? Tall order. She wasn’t sure she’d love flying, but she ordered her feet forward, taking one step, two, on legs as weak and numb as they’d been after she’d finished her first half marathon. Was it fear? Or excitement?

      Adam stepped in front of her. “I have to get in first since there’s only one door, then you’ll step up onto the wing and slide down into your seat. Watch where I put my feet.”

      Another bubble of nervousness rose in her throat. She hesitated, running her gaze over the aircraft and searching for loose seams or bolts or anything that didn’t look...right. Not that she knew what she was looking for. But she hated the idea of climbing into that tin can and being trapped beside Adam for the length of the flight when her body was having fits of nostalgia for her missed sex life.

      But Adam was not Andrew, and she was not going there with him.

      Adam climbed aboard, then turned and offered his hand to help her climb inside. The moment their palms met and his long fingers curled around hers a current of awareness flowed through her, and she realized she was in trouble because her body obviously did not know what was good for it.

      * * *

      A PRICKLE OF foreboding crept up Madison’s spine when the headlights’ beam landed on the brick pillars marking the entrance to Adam’s neighborhood. Surely Helen and Danny weren’t waiting for them? It was almost ten o’clock—too late for visiting.

      Adam had said little during the flight, communicating more to the people on the other end of the radio headset than with her. He’d only spoken to Madison when pointing out pieces of interesting scenery—a winery and a lake and the tail end of the Appalachians. His silence had screamed louder than a crowd of rowdy teenagers at a rock concert that he didn’t want her here. That made two of them.

      But she had to admit, he’d been right. Other than twinges of anxiety during takeoff and landing, she’d enjoyed the flight.

      The lack of conversation had been both a blessing and a curse. What could she say to someone who only tolerated her out of necessity? But the lack of interaction had given her time to worry about how she’d handle staying at the Drakes’ home—a place where she’d once experienced so much love but which now held open hostility, at least from Helen. Mostly she’d tried to prepare herself for sleeping in the bed she’d once shared with Andrew.

      Adam steered the car into his driveway and hit the remote to open his garage door. Her sense of foreboding rose along with that door.

      “Are your parents meeting us here?”

      “No.” He parked and turned off the ignition. The garage door lowered behind them with a hum of gears, sealing her inside.

      A sinking sensation weighted her stomach. Adam left the car, opened the trunk and extracted her duffel bag. Her brain screamed in denial. She threw open her door and bolted to her feet. “I’m staying here? With you?”

      “Yes.” The bite in the word revealed his displeasure.

      “Why not a hotel or at your parents’ house?”

      “They’re living in a motor home parked in their driveway while the renovation is underway. There’s no room for you.”

      No. No. No.

      “This isn’t going to work. Call Danny. I’m sure he’ll make arrangements for a hotel.”

      “He’s having surgery tomorrow. For cancer—a life-threatening disease. He has enough on his plate without worrying about your demands. Could you think about someone other than yourself for once?”

      She gasped at the injustice of the statement. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

      “Dad wants you here.”

      “How will I get to his office? Is he going to loan me his car?”

      A bark of laughter severed her words. “No one drives Dad’s Corvette except him.”

      “But—”

      “Madison, he asked me to make sure you kept your promise. I’m to drive you to work each morning and pick you up each evening.”

      Adam was her babysitter. “He doesn’t trust me?”

      “Why should he? You’ve given him no reason to believe you won’t cut and run when things get tough.”

      Madison gulped the panic welling within her. She was trapped. Trapped in hell with the spitting image of her dead husband. With no escape. No matter how bad things got. And she was too far from anywhere to pay what would no doubt be an exorbitant taxi fee.

      Two nights under Adam’s roof. She inhaled and exhaled, fighting for calm. Two nights, she repeated silently. She could get through them, but next week she’d insist on alternative accommodations.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ADAM