6pm.

Her flight wasn’t for another hour and a half but Imara had come to the airport early just in case she could have gotten on the 4:45pm flight. Of course trying to manage that on a Friday and going to San Francisco was as likely as shooting a good eight point buck.

Leaning back in the airport chair, Imara kicked her feet up on top of her weekend bag. This was nothing more than one of her get away trips for a short burst but that didn’t mean she found waiting any more comfortable.

Stretching her arms back over her head, she stopped when she felt them smack something soft and rather like flesh.

Jerking forward, she quickly turned in the seat and looked back. “Oh! Sorry. Didn’t think anyone was behind me.”

Donovan was at the airport getting a quick beer before his flight to South Africa. It was going to a long one but he couldn’t really turn down the assignment. His boss had made that pretty clear. It wasn’t such a bad thing, a shorter assignment than most. He’d be gone two weeks and be back before Marlin knew he was gone.

He felt an arm strike him.

He turned around to meet red eyes with his own green orbs.

“It’s nothing, lass. My fault entirely.”

He sized her up, liked the look of her.

“Can I buy you a drink and beg your forgiveness for being in your way?”

Donovan motioned for the bartender who came attentively, eyeing his still full mug suspiciously. He motioned to the lady to explain, smiling at this upturn in an otherwise boring wait for his transcontinental flight.


“Oh. Well…” Imara eyed the bartender and if they weren’t going to question it, she wasn’t going to say no. Who was she to turn down a free drink? Especially when she was trying to waste time. Not to mention, the company seemed interesting. “The drink is the easy part.” Pointing to the beer the stranger was having. “Whatever he is drinking.” She commented before her attention was back on green eyes...and long hair...and was that muscle tone?


“Begging my forgiveness will be a touch more difficult. I am not one to forgive so easily when you are in my range of stretching. After all, how dare you enter my bubble.” She was grinning now as her entire body turned to face him. My my. He was very interesting.

That was indeed muscle tone.

“Well I hope I’m able to in the next hour, lass. I’m afraid after that it’s off to South Africa.”

Though he certainly didn’t mind trying in that time. He was known the be charming and rather liked the ladies. He looked her over from stem to stern and tried to be subtle, but not too subtle, about it. The bartender handed her a beer, the same rich amber Donovan was nursing. He’d have been going at it harder but after the last “incident” his boss demanded that he fly sober or find a new job.

This was just the more convenient thing at the moment. Money was freedom.

“Donovan’s the name but my friends call me Flynn.”

He lifted his glass to her in salute.

“To forgiveness, then.”

“To attempted forgiveness.” Imara corrected as she clinked his glass with her own and took a long drink of the rich liquid. Man had good tastes. She needed to remember to ask later what the name of this beer was. Her brothers and she could really enjoy this out at the camp.


“Well Flynn, why don’t you start by telling me what in the world has you going to South Africa? That is not a common destination I hear many people going too now a days. Though most who do are drinking something stronger than this.” The traveler in Imara was coming alive as she set the glass back on the table and leaned forward slightly. She wanted him to talk more. That accent needed to be placed.

“If you give me that bit of curiosity, I’ll give you my name.”

“Well, dear lady, I happen to be a photographer for Wild World magazine. Just now they have me going to an assignment in South Africa.”

He smiled at her comment about stronger drink and wished to God that he was able. The Xanax he had in his bag would just have to do the trick, knocking him out for at least 8 hours of the journey. By then he’d have a layover in Australia coming soon. That was the plan, anyway, and one he’d been plotting for a little while while he sipped his beer.

“I suppose in the mean time I’ll just have to get drunk on your beauty instead.”

He arched an eyebrow at her and smiled as he said it to lead her to believe that yes, he had actually said that and yes, he did actually say cheesy things like that with sincerity.

The response to his words and that cheesy look was a return gaze that simply read as ‘really?’ An eyebrow cocked up and was met with her eyes rolling in an exaggerated manner. Beauty was not a word that Imara ever used to describe herself. She didn’t try to look good and she sure as heck did not make it part of her normal day. Heck, the woman didn’t even own a hair dryer! But if he wanted to play this game, she would play. Not to mention, she had just pegged his accent.

“Alright then handsome. While you get drunk on whatever beauty you claim to see, why don’t you tell me about this assignment so that my desire to travel to far off lands that my mere budget can only dream of seeing can be met. And since you have made San Francisco look very dull and very boring, I am tempted to reach over there and steal your ticket.”

Leaning forward, she raised her elbow to the counter and leaned her chin atop her raised hand. Her lips were curved into a smile and her eyes staring straight into his, awaiting what he had to say.

“And it’s Imara.” She added in there with a wink. “Brothers call me Mars. They claim it fits my fiery disposition.”

What lingering accent he had came courtesy of Pappy, who was from the shores of Erie. It wasn’t strong but the way he pronounced certain words definitely had the brogue of the Irish in it, a strong resemblance to the exact way his grandfather spoke. There wasn’t much of the man he wouldn’t emulate.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, isn’t it Imara? I happen to like what I’m looking at.”

After all, it was his job to see the beauty of the world, wild or not, for his career. Besides, he didn’t have a type so much more than “woman.” Well, comparable age woman.

“If you want to deal with my editor, be my guest. I could spend a few days in sunny San Fran.”

He’d been there before, of course, on assignment. His passport was certainly well stamped and it was almost mandatory to get it renewed every period.

Just to prove his sincerity he picked up her hand and kissed it lightly, being every inch the gentleman his grandfather demanded.

This would be what her three older brothers liked to call a smooth talker. She would have said fast but the mix of Irish and beer nullified that little detail. His words were well trained, polite and from what she could tell, practiced. Heck, she had heard similar things from her eldest brother when he was wooing his now wife! Lord that had made her roll her eyes.

Much as she was going now. Even with her smile, Imara pulled her hand back from his touch. Fair maiden she was not. A kiss on the hand gave zero brownie points. He would have been better off ordering them a snack. “I think the better question is could your editor could deal with me.” [/color]Using the hand she had pulled back to lift her glass again, Imara took a slow drink.

When she put it down, her eyes opened to him again. “I’m having a hard time picturing you as a photographer. You seem more like the type of person who should be there.” She pointed over his shoulder towards the bartender cleaning out a mug and glancing around at who might need refills.

Ouch…

Just, ouch…

Sure he liked his beer but his adventuring spirit could never be satisfied by standing behind a bar for eight hours in a shot, no matter how nice the view. He liked to try new things, experience life. His job was somewhat perfect for him, allowing him to do just that in locations he might never have dreamed of otherwise. And, best of all, he got paid for it!

Hunting with natives in the outback of Australia? Yep, done that.

Encountering a wild jaguar in the Amazonian rainforests? Yeah, he’d done that too.

Tasting the hottest pepper in the world among the shouting natives of Trinidad who laughed when his face changed 10 shades of red with just a tiny bite?

Unfortunately, he’d done that too.

“Lass, you do me wrong,” was all he said, frowning a little.

Pretty? Yes. Claws? Yes. This might be a challenge.

“What takes you to San Francisco?” He asked, attempting to change the subject.

The frown did not escape her notice and Imara raised an eyebrow. What was wrong with being a bartender? Heck, she was not afraid of it and even if you had to listen to people’s sobs stories, the money was dang good. If she wasn’t an acting manager, she most likely would have gone for behind a bar. Though her staff did joke she would make a better bouncer.

“No offence meant.” She gave as a peace offering, raising her glass to him. “But I can tell you have stories. Stories that could sooth minds and and calm people. Tales of adventure.” She eyed him sideways as if daring to say she was wrong. “And most good bar owners have that.”

But she would play nice. He was paying for the beer she held after all.

“I was bored.” Her answer was simple and true. “Been a good year since I last went so figured hope over for a few days. It was a destination several magazines published when I submitted the writing.”

“Very little taken, I promise. It’s alright. Despite not looking like I should be a photographer I am actually sort of good at it. They seem to like me.”

Which, honestly, was only true on certain days. Or, at least it was only acknowledged on certain days when his editor was in a good mood. Usually when he was smoking a cigar or was otherwise gloating over something he’d been commended on by the higher ups but was actually the work of people like Donovan.

“Though you’re right about the stories. I have plenty of those.”

He grinned, feeling confident again. He was never daunted for very long and usually rushed into things without thinking or weighing the consequences.

“Perhaps when I come back from South Africa you’ll let me take you out so I can tell you a few?”

Though he did need to admire a girl that could up and go when she pleased, like he did.

Now that was an offer Imara had not seen coming. As if a ball hit into the out feel and smacked her upside the head. Frankly, for a moment, she was a deer in the headlights.

And then it passed. She blinked quickly a few times and gave a single nod. “You know, why not. I only can afford to travel in the states so I would love to know more about the rest of the world. One day I will get there.”

The last part was said with a bit more determination than she might have meant to express. One fist came down on the counter between them giving a thud and shaking their glasses.
“Money will not always hold me back!” Again she declared with a strong nod of her head. “And let’s be candid. If they ship you off to South Africa and expect you to come back with something good, then yea, I would say they like you.”

Giving him a wink as if to enforce her words, Imara reached into her travel bag and pulled out a pen. Using a napkin, she scribbled down her number. “So you don’t forget that you offered to tell me about your trip.” Sliding the seven digits towards him, she offered “Flynn, be happy I don’t have my passport on me. I was serious about stealing your plane ticket.”

“As I was about my editor!”

He took the napkin and smiled, feeling both lucky and grateful. It was always a wonder to meet an interesting woman and gain her attention in return. This was a process he enjoyed, the chase. Maybe one day he’d find a woman that could put him in line but, for now, he just liked women and was going to enjoy his time with them.

“I’ll call you when I touch down. I’m sure you’ll make wherever you want to go, Imara. The world is an extraordinary place.”