Everlasting - Iris Johansen [46]
She was conscious of his hand running lazily down her arm to her wrist. “Take a nap, love. We have all night.”
She nodded. She would sleep presently, but right now she wanted to lie here and enjoy this wonderful closeness. Then his fingers were threading once more through hers in the intimate embrace that now seemed peculiarly their own. She smiled contentedly as her heavy lids closed. The last memory of which she was conscious was the sight of their hands joined in companionship and…
It was early afternoon when she heard the whir of the helicopter. At first the sound was so faint it might have been the hum of a bee and she didn't bother to open her eyes. She was drowsy and content sitting here against the trunk of the beech tree, with the sun on her face and Zack's head in her lap, and it was impossible to believe anything could disturb the bucolic enchantment of the moment.
Then the chugging whir became louder and her eyes flew open. “Zack!” There was an edge of panic in her voice. “Zack, I hear something.”
“Um-m,” he murmured, not opening his eyes. “So do I.”
“It's a helicopter.” She pushed his head from her lap and jumped to her feet in a flurry of petticoats. “I'm sure it's a helicopter.” She ran to the edge of the hill, her gaze searching the sky. “Zack, for God's sake, just don't lie there. They've found us!”
“I'm lying here because you nearly knocked me out when my head fell off your lap,” he said dryly as he sat up.
“Oh, dear, I'm sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder with a stricken expression. “But they're here, Zack.”
A cinnamon-colored helicopter had appeared on the horizon. It was moving purposefully in their direction.
Zack rose to his feet and strolled over to stand beside her. “So I see. But the question is, Who are they?” He suddenly grinned down at her. “Don't worry. It's not Stefan's storm troopers. I've been expecting this particular helicopter. I radioed Perry Bentley last night after you went to sleep and told him to fly in from Switzerland today.”
“Perry Bentley?”
“My assistant. You probably saw him that night outside the theater in Tucson.” He turned and started down the hill. “Put your boots on and let's go down and meet him as he lands.”
She stared after him. “How did you know I was outside the theater that night?” But he was halfway down the hill and could no longer hear her. She hurriedly thrust her bare feet into the boots and tucked the tail of her blouse into her skirt. Then she was hurrying after him.
She caught up as he reached the open field. Zack's own helicopter was stashed on the perimeter, beneath the cover of overhanging trees. She watched as the aircraft landed in the exact center of the field. “How did you know I was outside—”
His hand closed on her arm as he stepped forward eagerly. “Come on. I want you to see your present.” He was pulling her toward the helicopter, his expression endearingly boyish.
“My present?” she echoed bewilderedly.
The door of the helicopter was opening and the plump man who had run interference for Zack at the theater the first night she'd seen him jumped to the ground. He was dressed in casual jeans and a yellow T-shirt, and was carrying a small cardboard box.
“Perry Bentley. Kira Rubinoff.” Zack introduced them absently as he took the box and handed it to Kira. “Your present.”
“How do you do,” Kira murmured as she opened the box. A camera. A state-of-the-art Nikon—with every conceivable lens and attachment. Her eyes lifted to Zack's. “You had him fly from Switzerland to bring me a camera?”
“You wanted it,” he said simply. “You said it was important to you and Marna.” His brow suddenly furrowed in a frown. “Don't you like it?”
She felt tears sting her eyes. What an extravagant and touching gesture! She felt a surge of feeling so intense it took her breath away. “I love it,” she finally whispered huskily. Her index finger caressed the camera. “It's the most wonderful present I've ever received. Thank you, Zack.”
“It's far more advanced than the first one he bought you,” Bentley