Page 38 of Plane Passion

Their pie arrived. As expected, it failed to solve any of his problems, but he scarfed it down like a starving man, nonetheless.

“I should get going,” Ernie said after the last bite. He pulled out his billfold and left a few bills on the table.

“Good luck,” said Jack.

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

Heading to the front desk, he caught Mr. Dunston’s eye. “Any luck finding another room?”

Mr. Dunston shook his head. “I’m sorry. I tried calling around but haven’t had any luck yet. Plenty of folks are already snowed in from the storm, but I’ll keep trying, Mr. Pritchard.”

No room. No escape. A snowstorm that was probably going to ground him tomorrow. How could this day possibly get worse?

14

“Any update on a room?” Millie asked Mr. Dunston for the fifth time. She’d been lingering in the lobby reading “Pride and Prejudice” for two hours now. Anything to avoid the situation upstairs.

“I’m afraid not, Miss Aldrich. I’ve called everyone I can think of in walking distance, but none of them can take you. Most have guests already for the harvest festival. Anyone farther out is unreachable in this storm. I’m afraid you and Mr. Pritchard will have to make do.”

No. Anything but that. Didn’t Mr. Dunston realize what a perilous situation they were in?

Of course, he didn’t. How could he? Nobody knew about her and Ernie. Nobody knew about the kiss. Nobody knew how impossible it would be for them to stay away from each other cooped up in a tiny hotel room.

But she had to try. There was nothing else for it. She couldn’t very well sleep in the lobby.

It was after 9 p.m. when she made her way up the stairs to the room. She knocked on the door before opening it, not wanting to catch Ernie in a state of undress. He opened the door to let her in. His shirt was untucked, and his sleeves rolled up leaving his swallow tattoo visible, but thankfully he was fully clothed.

He inhaled sharply upon seeing her and then seemed to stop breathing as she entered the room. She was hardly any better, her heart pounding and her eyes wide as she eased past him, keeping as much distance as she could manage, but still far too close.

Unable to take her eyes off him, she sidled over to the unoccupied bed, sat down, then cleared her throat. “Mr. Dunston couldn’t find another room.”

Ernie closed the door, and the click of the latch boomed in her ear. They were alone, nothing to keep them apart but their tenuous self-control.

“I was afraid of that.”

“I’ll uh… I’ll…” Good Lord. Could she not even form sentences? “I’ll take this bed, and you stay over there. All right?”

“Yes,” he said in a husky voice. “I’ll just sit here and sketch,” he said, gesturing at his pad. A half-finished drawing of Jack Thompson eating pie lay face up on the bed.

“That’s very good,” she said, forgetting herself and coming closer to look. “I didn’t know you drew.”

“It’s been a hobby of mine since I was a child,” he said, running his hand up the back of his neck and turning slightly pink.

“It looks one of those illustrations by that fellow who does covers for the Saturday Evening Post.” It was so true to life and detailed she could hardly believe it.

“Norman Rockwell?” he asked, coming up beside her.

Too close.

“Could be. I don’t know the name.” She inched away.

“I’m very flattered,” he said, turning those big, caramel-colored eyes on her.

Oh, dear.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” she said hurriedly, picking up her bag and bolting to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She was safe, at least for a few minutes. Maybe she could sleep in the bathtub?

Taking off her dress, she put on her light blue striped cotton pajamas. She’d always preferred men’s pajamas to nightgowns, and tonight she was grateful for her preference. There was nothing frilly or suggestive about them. They covered her completely.