Free Once in a Blue Moon by Kristin James Page B

had probably witnessed her nervous reaction.
    Michael smiled, but there was no mockery in his face, only a faint warmth, even sympathy. He winked, and Isabelle’s heart gave a lurch. Though long-forgotten, that wink was instantly familiar, and the warmth it spread through her body was only partly a reaction to unexpected kindness. Isabelle looked away quickly.
    When the plane taxied up to the terminal and stopped, Isabelle waited for Lyle to get his briefcase and bag together, then exited behind him. Michael stood waiting politely for them to pass in front of him before he stepped out into the aisle, so that Isabelle wound up sandwiched between him and Lyle. She was very conscious of Michael’s long, lean body behind her, especially when the crowd of disembarking passengers swelled frontward, pushing him intimately close to her back. She was relieved when the door opened and the people in front of her started off the plane, so that she could move away from the warm pressure of Michael’s body.
    They moved into the small, modern airport and waited through a short line for Customs, then walked out into the bright Mexican sunshine. A limousine waited to take Isabelle, Lyle and Michael to their hotel. The crew, with their expensive cameras, film and other gear, would take a longer time to get through Customs and would be following later, along with the day players, in two vans.
    The heat was immediate and pervasive, the sunlight dazzling. Isabelle slid into the dark, air-conditioned limousine gratefully. Michael and Lyle came in after her, Lyle sitting on the far end of the wide, plush seat where Isabelle was. Michael, after a quick glance at the empty expanse of seat between Isabelle and Lyle, took one of the fold-down side seats. Isabelle noticed he had more or less done the same thing on the airplane this morning, insisting that Lyle take the seat beside Isabelle while he took the seat across the aisle by himself. She wondered if he was being sensitive to her feelings or if he wanted to be close to her as little as she wanted to be close to him. She suspected that it was the former, and she was grateful to him for his gesture. But at the same time, it left an odd, empty feeling in her.
    Impatiently, she thrust the thought away from her. She was only feeling the sense of loss she experienced anytime she was away from her daughter for more than a day. It had nothing to do with Michael Traynor. Isabelle turned and gazed out the window at the landscape, thickly grown with scrubby brush and trees. There were no people or buildings in sight, only a road sign or a billboard now and then. Lyle was talking about the schedule tomorrow, but she paid little attention to him. Cassie, his assistant, would bring a photocopy of the schedule tonight, and until then Lyle might change it, so there was little point in learning it yet.
    They drove across a bridge, and a few moments later they were suddenly back in civilization. Hotels, sprawling or tall and narrow, were clustered along the right side of the road, and every once in a while, Isabelle caught a glimpse of the ocean surf pounding upon the shore. She decided she’d take a walk along the beach this evening. Perhaps here she would not be recognized, especially if she wore a beach hat and sunglasses.
    Their hotel was a typical resort hotel, with cool tiled-and-marbled floors and, between the building and the beach, a meandering pool built to look like a tropical stream, except for the swim-up bar thrusting out into the middle of it. Her room, also tiled, was pleasant, colorfully decorated and there was a long balcony off it that looked out over the ocean. Two chairs and a small table sat on the balcony, and potted plants had been set in the two front corners. A large pottery vase decorated one of the inside corners.
    Isabelle went out onto the balcony and stood at the railing, drawing in a long breath of satisfaction. She loved the smell and sight of the ocean. In the past, she had