Vicki Thompson - A Fare To Remember

2006

IF HANNAH HADNT PACKED twenty-seven cans of tuna in her suitcase, she would have taken the bus from JFK.

Shed researched it, and the bus stopped a mere two blocks from her hotel. Her hotel. Just knowing she had a room reserved in a New York City hotel almost gave her an orgasm. Shed flown in on a red-eye, which had two things going for it-the el cheapo price and the 7:00 a.m. arrival, which meant she wouldnt have to worry about muggers.

Besides, muggers werent a problem if you walked with purpose and didnt wear your hair in a ponytail they could grab hold of. Shed left her hair loose and she always walked with purpose, so she wasnt the least bit afraid. But the flowered suitcase weighed close to fifty pounds thanks to the tuna, and wrestling it on and off a bus didnt fit her picture of how she wanted to make her Big Apple entrance.

Logically she should be exhausted after being up all night, but she was wired and ready for the adventure of a lifetime. She, Hannah Robertson, was lining up at the taxi stand outside JFK, waiting for a bright yellow cab to take her to the place shed dreamed about ever since reading the Eloise books as a kid.

Shed finally made it! So what if she wasnt staying at the Plaza? Her hotel was in Manhattan, and that was all that mattered. So what if her first deep breath of genuine New York air made her cough? She wasnt expecting clean, dry Arizona air. Shed had her fill of clean, dry Arizona air.

She wanted this place, gasoline fumes and all. She wanted Times Square, Central Park, the Empire State Building, Fifth Avenue, the Statue of frickin Liberty! It was all she could do not to spread her arms wide and shout Hey, New York! Hannahs here!

OUT-OF-TOWNER. After spending all his sixty years in NYC, Mario Capelli could spot a newcomer with one eye closed. But any fool could see that the redhead wearing a taxi-yellow sundress and pulling a flower-print suitcase hailed from somewhere other than New York. For one thing, she was smiling. New Yorkers didnt smile while waiting for a cab, especially coming off the red-eye.

For another thing, she had all that color going on-yellow dress, blue-and-yellow purse, gaudy flowered suitcase. Mario counted the cabs in front of him and the people standing in front of the redhead. Unless hed miscounted, shed be his fare. Perfect. From the minute hed seen that smile and that cloud of dark copper hair, hed started thinking of Zach.

Mario didnt believe in coincidences. He did believe in fate. For six months hed wanted to find somebody for Zach, somebody who could save him from becoming a jaded corporate hack, somebody whose glass was not only half-full, but seriously overflowing. Mario thought he might be looking at her.

As he inched up to the head of the line, so did she. The more he studied her, the more he could see her with Zach. She was stacked, and Zach liked stacked women. It didnt hurt that she had a pretty face, either. Mario even liked the way she stood so straight, with her shoulders back. Too many women slouched these days, trying to look like a magazine model or a bored superstar.

Her red hair was a bonus. Adrienne was blonde, and Mario didnt want to introduce any echoes of Adrienne into the equation. Anyone whod dump a guy like Zach for somebody with a bigger bank account wasnt worth remembering, but Zach was sensitive enough to remember, and he might be off blondes for the time being.

Of course, Zach would object if he knew Mario was trying to fix him up. He would hate it, in point of fact. So Mario would have to be sneaky about the whole deal. He could do that. He hadnt spent thirty-five years with the NYPD for nothing.

Reaching for his cell phone, he speed-dialed Iris, who would have opened her coffee stand by now. Iris Rivera made the best espresso in the city, but that wasnt what kept Mario coming back. It was more about the whiteness of her teeth against her olive skin and that dimple when she smiled at him.

She was a kind person, so he wasnt sure if she really liked him, but he thought she might. That was a miracle, that a woman like her could be interested in a guy with more gray than black in his hair and the beginnings of a paunch. He hadnt decided what to do about his feelings for Iris, so until he did, buying coffee was a good excuse to see her a couple of times a day.

S, Mario! She always yelled into her cell phone because she couldnt believe the thing worked in the first place.

He didnt care if she yelled. He just loved hearing her Puerto Rican accent, which made him think of swaying palms and swaying bodies. Has Zach come by for his espresso yet?

No! But I expect him soon!

When he comes by, can you stall him until I get there? I want to talk to him about something.

Ill try! Zach, hes in such a hurry these days!

Exactly. Thats why Zach needed a girl. Sell him a pastelito and hell have to stick around to eat it. Thinking of those pastries made his mouth water.

Okay! Are you trying to fix him up?

I am, but dont you dare tell him. The taxi in front of Mario pulled away from the curb, so Mario eased his foot off the brake and coasted to the front of the line. Gotta go! Snapping his cell phone closed and throwing the cab into Park, he jumped out and came around to help the redhead with her flowered suitcase.

Be careful, she warned. Its really heavy.

Mario had guessed as much. No problem. He gave the redhead an indulgent smile. Out-of-towners always overpacked. They hadnt caught on to the concept of basic black, which meant you could get away with a much smaller wardrobe. Flexing his knees, he lifted the suitcase.

Shit, it really was heavy. A little flowered job like this wasnt designed for this much weight. You got bowling balls in here? he asked.

No. I just brought-

She was interrupted by the rip of fabric giving way and the clatter of cans hitting the pavement. Tuna cans. Mario dropped the suitcase and grabbed a couple before they rolled under the cab. By the time he stood, the redhead was frantically trying to stuff the cans back through a fifteen-inch-long tear along the seam.

Her face was the color of a stoplight. It wasnt an expensive suitcase.

Im glad to hear that. Mario ignored the impatient honk from the cab behind him as he adjusted his Giants baseball cap and surveyed the situation.

Were holding up the line.

I know. Dont panic. If I lift the suitcase up flat, itll go in the trunk without spilling. When we get to where youre going, Ill throw some duct tape on it.

She blew out a breath in obvious relief. Thank you. Still blushing, she stood back while he maneuvered the ripped suitcase into the trunk of the cab. He only lost one can.

Snatching it from the pavement, she threw it in the trunk before he closed it. Okay, lets go. She wrenched open the back door and got herself into the cab in short order.

Mario hurried around to the drivers side. Tuna? As he pulled into traffic, he wondered if his instincts had been off. He didnt want to saddle Zach with a nutcase. Where to? he asked.

The Pearson Hotel, please. Its on- She gasped as Mario cut across traffic.

Hey, dont worry. Mario usually had to reassure first-timers. I know what Im doing.

Im sure you do. She took a deep breath. They say that New York City cabdrivers are the best drivers in the world.

And they would be right. Anyway, I know where the Pearson is. Her choice of hotel told him a little more about her. The Pearson was on the seedy side, but safe enough for a woman traveling alone. The combo of the Pearson and the tuna meant that his passenger was pinching pennies.