Falling by Sahara Kelly

himself, for a change. Not as the high-powered manager of a successful hotel, but as a man.
    They were a match made in some tropical heaven. And if the damn meeting went on much longer he might be forced to kill somebody to find out if that tropical heaven was in her hotel room or his suite.
    He sighed and focused to the best of his ability.
    Two hours later, the end of his tether had come and gone and was at least a mile behind him. It was all he could do to be polite and shake hands with the men who considered the evening a raging success.
    And he barely suppressed a scream of frustration as he slipped into a cab for the half hour trip back to the Palms. It was a punch in the gut to realize the evening was pretty much over and done with. Bureaucratic bullshit had interfered at precisely the wrong time and kept him away from the most interesting woman he'd met in years.
    It was definitely Not. Fucking. Fair .
    Now he was going to have to rethink his campaign of seduction all over again. He reached for his phone. "Hey Evan, it's Cris. Need a favor…"
    *~*~*~*
    Jen had thoroughly enjoyed her evening. Which was a huge surprise, since if anyone had told her she'd have fun sitting with a bunch of folks older than her parents and listening to an admittedly wicked old man tell jokes with all the professional expertise of a comedian on a TV show-well, she'd have never believed it. Not in a million years.
    But she had laughed with everyone else, listened intently as Palmer used that humor to get his point across, and at the conclusion applauded as loudly as anyone.
    He was good. He was more than good, he was brilliant in many ways.
    He'd held her captive with his words, rich and colorful, as he'd talked about his years of traveling with an advertising company. He touched on funny moments in airports far away, and sobering incidents where the civilization they all took for granted seemed absent.
    He'd been in war zones and bazaars. He'd nearly bought a wife, he mentioned, only to realize the one he had wouldn't be pleased at the purchase. That made everyone laugh, but Jen had a suspicion he was telling the truth.
    He was the ultimate mature bad boy and the several women in his audience were every bit as attentive as Jen. Some things about an attractive man never fade with time. And Palmer had more than his fair share.
    His lecture was punctuated with references to his wife, who he referred to as his other half. Not better half, because he explained they were both human and therefore flawed. But the one person who complemented him perfectly. The rare person who understood him and shared so many of his interests. She also disagreed with him on a regular basis, wasn't shy about telling him he was wrong, and kept him in line. And when she looked at him he felt ten feet tall.
    Jen had swallowed down a sigh. Palmer had been loved and loved in return. There were no perfect relationships, she realized as she listened. But if there was love, there was someplace to start from. To build on.
    It dawned on her that Palmer wasn't mentioning his wife's name and always referred to her in the past tense. Sure enough, in a rare somber moment, Palmer touched on his wife's passing.
    "A light went out for me that cannot ever be re-lit." His words were soft and echoed into the stillness that had fallen in the lounge. "But I know my wife will always be with me. And that, my friends, is how love will continue to illuminate what's left of my life. I won't marry again, but I will not be afraid to love, to share that magic if I find the right person who can return it. We can take love, use it, abuse it and ignore it. We can do a lot of things with and for love that we probably shouldn't. But how often do we just simply appreciate it? How often do we take a few moments from our day and say to ourselves I am loved . And if we do, can we fully comprehend the magnitude of those three words? How can we get away from the need to say I love you and understand that I