Arta Shahani stood at the curb of the one-runway Summertown Airport, took a deep breath of clean air, and admired the pristine mountains. An eagle floated overhead, enjoying the updraft. He wished he could ride the wind with the bird, and watch the green vistas and mountains roll under him again. One of the hazards of living in the Washington D.C. area was he sometimes forgot the more remote, less populated portions of the country. No matter, once he was with Eliana, it didn’t matter where he was. “With thee, my love, hell itself were heaven…”

He tapped his foot and jingled the change in his pocket and then stopped, suddenly self-aware of his mannerisms. Arta felt a flush of embarrassment dashed with a tinge of boyish anticipation. Eliana. All he had to do was think her name and crazy things came over him. His pulse raced, muscles tensed, blood rushed to all the wrong parts of his body. He knew the term for it, flight, fight, or f—

The sharp blast of a car horn interrupted his musings.

The object of his fascination sat in a black government sedan in front of him.

Eliana.

For a frozen moment, he stopped breathing. His stomach plummeted, and his pulse kicked into erratic beats. He couldn’t stop staring at her. Her green eyes sparkled with humor, and a mischievous grin spread from one flushed cheek to the other. Just as lovely as the first time he met her and took her hand. A jolt of joy headed for his pants. That would never do. He placed his briefcase over his groin and waved.