Come Saturday morning, it was the stark evidence of the Lear family wealth that frightened him.
He should have suspected what he was in for when Robin answered her door wearing a cool, milk-chocolate pantsuit and turquoise blouse and jewelry that made the color of her eyes radiate. “Wow,” she said, eyeing the one decent pair of tan trousers he had, a white button-down he had had for God only knew how long, and a navy sports coat. “You look great!”
That was nice, but he was totally inadequate next to her. What he knew about women’s clothing could be put on the head of a pin, but he knew expensive clothing and accoutrements when he saw it. Expensive clothes, expensive woman.
And still he was not prepared for what greeted him at Hobby airport.
Robin couldn’t help but laugh, because he was, like any mere mortal, blown away by the so-called company plane. It was a Lear family jet, the implication being, of course, that there was more than one. It came complete with a small kitchen and eating area, a sleeping bunk, and four thickly padded leather seats that faced each other for cozy tête-à-têtes in the sky. Even the pilot—Pete, Robin called him—was wearing a uniform that reminded Jake of the air force.
“Help yourself to any chair,” she said as they entered the cabin. “I’m going to put some coffee on.”
Jake lowered himself carefully into one of the Corinthian leather seats and looked around. There were fresh roses in a secured vase on the dining table; he could see into the compact bathroom in the back where towels monogrammed with an L were hanging over the basin. The finishings around the windows and trays were brass and mahogany. This was something he had only seen at the movies, never in real life. At least not his real life.
Robin returned from making the coffee and settled into the seat directly across from him. “Have you been on one of these before?”
She asked in all seriousness, and sometimes Jake wondered if she wasn’t just flat-out nuts. He’d only flown a few times in his life to begin with. “No,” he said simply.
“Dad has two of them. He started flying lessons a year or so ago—”
“Miss Lear, we’re ready for taxi, so if you and your guest would please fasten your seat belts,” a voice boomed above them.
Robin instantly fastened her seat belt, then leaned across to help Jake when he couldn’t find his. It was rolled up and tucked away in a little pocket.
“We should have invited Cole. He’d like this,” she said as they settled in and the plane started to move.
Yeah, he’d like it all right. Any mere mortal would like it. “You and Cole seemed to be getting along pretty well yesterday,” he observed.
Robin nodded. “He’s really a cool kid!”
Which just went to show, Jake thought, how clueless she really was. “Hard to see it.”
“No, really! When he talks about something he likes, he’s very animated. It’s kind of funny, actually. His voice gets really high.”
Jake had never heard Cole’s voice get really high. And he’d certainly never heard Cole say he liked anything. “So . . . what does he like?”
“Well, a girl named Tara, for one.”
Bowl him over with a feather—a girl? Cole showed no interest in the opposite sex; he showed no interest in anything. “You’re kidding,” he said flatly.
Robin shook her head.
“Since when?”
“Since the third grade. But he didn’t think she liked him until she sat with him at lunch one day. That apparently put a spring in his step. Unfortunately, the very next day, she sat with Randy Somebody, and Cole didn’t know what that meant. So he cut class.”
“Are you telling me that he cut class because some girl didn’t sit with him at lunch? That’s it? That’s the whole stupid reason his world collapsed?”
“That’s it!” Robin said cheerfully. “He’s really sensitive, you know.”
Oh God, it was worse than he thought. He had a sensitive nephew. Nooo, nooo . . . not good. Sensitive boys made for very strange men.
“What’s that?” Robin asked.
“What’s what?”
“That. That sort of grunting sound you’re making.”
“I’m not making any grunting sound.”
“See there? You did it again. What’s the matter, haven’t you ever had a devastating crush on a girl before?”
Actually, he had one so devastating at the moment he thought he might just crash and burn with it, thank you very much. But Jake snorted at her question, leaned back, looked out the window as they taxied down the runway. That idiot kid—so what if his girl sat with another guy? It didn’t mean anything. And he’d remind himself of that the next time Mr. Pompous Ass showed up at Robin’s, instead of thinking how to rub the smirk off his face.
The plane lifted, the sharp ascent pushing his stomach back to his spine.
“So?” Robin asked, oblivious to the plane’s laboring up the incline. “Have you?”