hundredth time since the flight began she felt the touch of the hand that had touched her aim before. It was strangely comforting to feel the nurse's hand, and it pleased her that she could already tell the difference between them. One woman had thin, delicate hands with long narrow fingers; her hands were always cold but there was great strength in the way she held on to Nancy. It made Nancy feel brave again just to touch her. The other nurse had warm, chubby soft hands that made one feel safe and loved. She patted Nancy's arm a lot, and it was she who had given Nancy the two shots for the pain. She had a soft soothing voice. The first woman had a slight accent. Nancy had already come to like them both.
“It won't be much longer now, dear. We can see the bay now. We'll be there in no time at all.”
Actually, it would be another twenty minutes. And Peter Gregson was counting on that as he raced along the freeway in the black Porsche. The ambulance was meeting him there. He could have one of the girls from his office pick his car up later that morning. He wanted to ride into the city with the girl. He was intrigued by her. She had to be Someone for Marion Hillyard to be so concerned about her. Four hundred thousand dollars was quite a sum, and only three of that was going to him. The other hundred was to keep the girl comfortable in the next year and a half. And she would be. He had promised Marion Hillyard that. But he would have seen to that anyway. It was part of what he did. He would get to know the girl's very soul. They would become more than friends; he would mean everything to her and she to him. It had to be that way, because by the time that new face was born, she would be the person she looked like. Peter Gregson was going to give birth to Nancy McAllister, after a pregnancy of eighteen long months. She was going to have to be a very brave girl. But she would be. He would see to that. They would face it together. The very idea excited him. He loved what he did, and in an odd way he already loved Nancy. What he would make of her. What she would be. He would give her all that he had to give.
He looked at his watch and stepped on the gas. The car was one of his favorite releases. He also flew his own plane, went scuba diving whenever he had time, skied, and had climbed several mountains in Europe. He was a man who liked to scale heights, in every possible way. To defy the impossible and win. It was why he loved his work. People accused him of playing God. But it wasn't really that. It was the thrill of insuperable odds that stimulated him. And he had never yet been defeated. Not by women or mountains or sky, not even by a patient. At forty-seven he had won at everything he touched, and he was going to win now. He and Nancy were going to win together. His dark hair blew softly in the breeze and his eyes almost crackled with life. He still had a tan from his recent week in Tahiti, and he was wearing gray slacks and a soft blue cashmere sweater that was just the color of his eyes. He was always impeccably dressed, perfectly put together. He was an exceptionally good-looking man, but there was more to him than that. It was his vitality, his electricity, that caught one's attention even more than his looks did.
He pulled up to the curb at the airport precisely at the moment Nancy's plane was touching down. He showed a special pass to a policeman, who nodded and promised to keep an eye on the car. Even the policeman smiled at Gregson. Peter was a man no one could ignore. He had an almost irresistible charm, and a strength that showed through everything he did. It made people want to be near him.
He wove his way expertly into the airport lobby and spoke rapidly to a ground supervisor. The man picked up a phone, and within moments Peter was ushered through a door, down a flight of stairs, and into a tiny airport vehicle, then rushed out to the run-way, where he saw the ambulance standing by, the attendants waiting for
“It won't be much longer now, dear. We can see the bay now. We'll be there in no time at all.”
Actually, it would be another twenty minutes. And Peter Gregson was counting on that as he raced along the freeway in the black Porsche. The ambulance was meeting him there. He could have one of the girls from his office pick his car up later that morning. He wanted to ride into the city with the girl. He was intrigued by her. She had to be Someone for Marion Hillyard to be so concerned about her. Four hundred thousand dollars was quite a sum, and only three of that was going to him. The other hundred was to keep the girl comfortable in the next year and a half. And she would be. He had promised Marion Hillyard that. But he would have seen to that anyway. It was part of what he did. He would get to know the girl's very soul. They would become more than friends; he would mean everything to her and she to him. It had to be that way, because by the time that new face was born, she would be the person she looked like. Peter Gregson was going to give birth to Nancy McAllister, after a pregnancy of eighteen long months. She was going to have to be a very brave girl. But she would be. He would see to that. They would face it together. The very idea excited him. He loved what he did, and in an odd way he already loved Nancy. What he would make of her. What she would be. He would give her all that he had to give.
He looked at his watch and stepped on the gas. The car was one of his favorite releases. He also flew his own plane, went scuba diving whenever he had time, skied, and had climbed several mountains in Europe. He was a man who liked to scale heights, in every possible way. To defy the impossible and win. It was why he loved his work. People accused him of playing God. But it wasn't really that. It was the thrill of insuperable odds that stimulated him. And he had never yet been defeated. Not by women or mountains or sky, not even by a patient. At forty-seven he had won at everything he touched, and he was going to win now. He and Nancy were going to win together. His dark hair blew softly in the breeze and his eyes almost crackled with life. He still had a tan from his recent week in Tahiti, and he was wearing gray slacks and a soft blue cashmere sweater that was just the color of his eyes. He was always impeccably dressed, perfectly put together. He was an exceptionally good-looking man, but there was more to him than that. It was his vitality, his electricity, that caught one's attention even more than his looks did.
He pulled up to the curb at the airport precisely at the moment Nancy's plane was touching down. He showed a special pass to a policeman, who nodded and promised to keep an eye on the car. Even the policeman smiled at Gregson. Peter was a man no one could ignore. He had an almost irresistible charm, and a strength that showed through everything he did. It made people want to be near him.
He wove his way expertly into the airport lobby and spoke rapidly to a ground supervisor. The man picked up a phone, and within moments Peter was ushered through a door, down a flight of stairs, and into a tiny airport vehicle, then rushed out to the run-way, where he saw the ambulance standing by, the attendants waiting for
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