This preview shows pages 1–3. Sign up to view the full content.
This preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.View Full Document
Unformatted text preview: TOMORROW'S PROMISE Sandra Brown Contents: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 Chapter 1 ^» A merican Airlines flight number 124 from New Orleans to Washington, D.C., was in trouble. At least it seemed so to Keely Preston, whose cold, damp hands were clasped tightly in her lap as she stared anxiously out the window at the frequent blinding flashes of blue-white lightning. The first-class cabin provided a more comfortable flight than the passengers in the coach cabin must be experiencing, but then Keely always flew first class for that reason alone. "Miss Preston." Keely jumped and whipped her head around to face the airline hostess who was bending solicitously over the vacant seat on the aisle to address her confidentially. "Would you like something to drink?" Keely pushed back a few strands of caramel-colored hair and tried to smile with tight, stiff lips. She wasn't sure she was successful. "No, thank you." "It might help calm you. I've noticed that you're nervous about the storm. I assure you that everything is fine." Keely looked down at her clenched hands and smiled in self-derision. "I'm sorry that it shows." She glanced back up at the attendant and smiled with more conviction. "I'm fine. Really." The young woman smiled her professional smile and offered, "Ring me if you need anything. We should be out of the storm in the next several minutes and will land in Washington in about an hour." "Thank you," Keely said and made the effort to relax, to sit back against the thick luxury of the first-class seat and block out the ferocity of the storm by closing her eyes. The man across the aisle admired her display of courage, though he sensed she was terrified. As a matter of fact, he had admired everything about this woman since she had boarded the aircraft a few minutes after he had. She was in possession of many admirable qualities. Her hair for instance. It was soft and casually styled. He despised trendy hairstyles copied from punk rock stars or women athletes. The lady across the aisle had hair that swept her shoulders each time she moved her head. It looked well-brushed and clean and he suspected it must smell like flowers. He wouldn't be a man if he hadn't noticed her tidy, compact figure when she had passed him on his aisle seat to find hers one row in front of and across the aisle from his. She was wearing a green two-piece knit suit. The sweater tapered to a trim waist. The skirt clung to taut hips and widened gradually to flare just below her knees. She had damn good legs too. He noticed that when she reached overhead to toss her trench coat in the compartment over her seat. That was when he had seen her in profile and noted that the front of her sweater conformed to a ripe, but not overfull, bosom....
View Full Document