“Yeah, sure, no problem,” he said. He glanced over at Kelly and saw her glaring at Caitlyn.
“Really, it’s okay. I don’t mind helping at all,” he added. Whatever it took to spend time with her worked for him.
Her eyes shifted and she acted like she’d just remembered him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to appear ungrateful.”
Ian gestured to the cruiser. “Permission to come aboard?”
Pink tinged her cheeks, sending Ian’s sex-starved brain on a fool’s jaunt to lustful thoughts. Would her whole body glow like that after—
“Permission granted, sailor. But you don’t need to help clean the boat—you didn’t get to ride on it.” She stepped back from the transom door allowing him access to the cockpit.
She slid her sunglasses down her nose and looked at him over the rims. “So, what’s up—just happen to be in the neighborhood and decided to stop by?”
The sparks of humor in her eyes made him want to laugh and groan at the same time. Instead, he stood grinning like an idiot at someone more likely to kick his heart around like a soccer ball. And walk away without a backward glance when she tired of the sport.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts and glanced around the cruiser. “I’d heard a rumor about you living on a boat and thought I’d check it out.” This excuse sounded lamer than his real excuse. And now, asking her about the other rumor seemed exceedingly stupid, to say nothing about being self-serving.
Kelly’s look turned speculative, but when she pursed her lips, his brain took a detour south again. Her full mouth spoke volumes without even moving. Unfortunately, the body part doing the most listening was about to embarrass the hell out of him.
Abruptly he moved away, pretending to check out the helm. “You handled this baby like you’ve been driving a boat all your life. Is that another genetic thing?”
Smart, Razz, bring up her family when you know damn good and well that’s not a pleasant subject for her. The array of the sophisticated instruments he was staring at finally sunk in and he whistled softly. “Man, you’ve got everything on here.”
Radar, sonar, GPS, hell, there was even a built-in computer with charts displayed on it. He looked over his shoulder at Kelly, a different kind of excitement making his blood run fast. “Have you had her off shore?”
She shook her head and skimmed past him to settle her cute little butt on the flipped-up captain’s seat. He jerked his gaze back to the instrument array, desperate to concentrate on what she was saying, not on how good her legs looked in those damn shorts.
“Only fifteen miles or so. I’d like to take a long cruise down to the Keys to do some diving. I’m a fish at heart, so put me on, or in the water and I’m happy,” she said, a wide smile lighting her face.
Suddenly Ian didn’t care if she didn’t want to settle down, or if she’d kick him to the curb in a couple of weeks. He hadn’t been this strongly attracted to a female since he’d lusted after Melissa in ninth grade. And while that attraction had been all about his awakening hormones, this need for Kelly went beyond such a simple explanation. Hell, he couldn’t even identify what he was feeling.
Now he needed to know; was she, or wasn’t she?
“Have you heard the talk about you being gay?”
God, had he just blurted that out? He’d never wanted to be washed overboard in his life, until that minute.
She stilled and his gut tightened. Hell, he’d blown it big time now. But Kelly’s hoot of laughter burst out without any nervous restraint. “Boy oh boy, Ian. How long have you been in the military? That rumor comes ’round every time a guy gets his nose out of joint around a semi-competent female in uniform. I’m straight, but here’s a clue—sexual orientation doesn’t affect job performance, one way or the other.”
She pulled her sunglasses off and looked at him candidly. “I don’t even have to use any brain cells to come up with the guy who started that one,” she said and rolled her eyes dramatically.
His own laughter evaporated his earlier tension like spit on a carrier deck in summer. He’d rarely—if ever—been around a woman so sure of herself. Whether she was right for him or not, didn’t seem to make a damn bit of difference—he wanted her and that was all that mattered.
Acting on pure instinct, Ian leaned in and captured Kelly’s lips in a hard, demanding kiss. He tasted shock, but also hunger, encouraging him to press for more. The tip of his tongue touched hers and she stiffened, then pulled back, her eyes going wide.
Disbelief chased across her face, followed closely by chagrin. The corner of her mouth kicked up and she eased back on the captain’s seat with a small shake of her head. “Gee, let me guess. You selflessly volunteered to check me out. To verify I’m not gay?”
* * *
Ian’s features hardened and Kelly unconsciously leaned further back. No matter how much she might want him, she wouldn’t let herself become a hash mark on his personal scorecard.
“What? You think I’m coming on to you as some kind of test?” He blew out a harsh laugh then scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Hell, if I was the kind of guy who only cared about getting laid, I wouldn’t have turned you down that first night we met.”
Her indignation buckled under embarrassment and she sagged in her seat. He was right. She’d practically begged him to come home with her and he’d refused. She narrowed her eyes. “So why now? Why the interest now that you know who I am?”
Heck, for all she knew they had a wager going. The first guy to bed her would win the cash. She’d seen it before, and not just with the men—female Coasties wanted their fun, just like the guys.
“I thought it was pretty obvious that first day in the break room.” He dropped to the bench seat next to hers. “Come on, you’re not going to pretend you didn’t feel anything when I kissed you just now.”
He gave her his full charm workout, including the crooked smile and innocently raised brows. Yeah, like he could wear innocent convincingly. But he did make her laugh, mostly at herself.
“What I felt was your tongue invading restricted territory, sailor,” she said with attempted censure. Except she couldn’t claim it restricted any longer, at least not to him. Add weak to that growing list of negative attributes for herself.
He grinned and bobbed his eyebrows suggestively. “Wanna kiss and make up? Maybe you should put this in your ship’s log—our first fight.”
“And maybe you should become shark-bait.” Oh yeah, they’d gobble him up like pigs after truffles. How could she even pretend to be mad at him? Boy, she was in big trouble and she’d only known him a couple weeks.
He had a reputation for being a good guy, the one both men and women wanted to work with. Added to that was his way of looking at her as if she were the only one who mattered. God forbid, what would she be like if she allowed a physical relationship? She’d have no way to defend her heart, something she’d done for six long years.
“Come on, let me take you out to dinner. I know a great little burger shack with artery-hardening fries worth every ounce of LDL you’ll get.”
“Gee, how could I turn down such an offer—maybe I’ll get a chance to do a little extracurricular CPR.”
“Honey, any time you want to practice your rescue breathing technique on me, just holler.”
Oh yeah, she was in big trouble all right. Apparently resistance was futile against Ian Razzamenti’s blue-eyed charm.
* * *
“I can’t believe they let planes land at airports without any kind of control towers. That’s insane,” Karl fumed at his nephew as he scrambled out of the tin-can of an airplane. How in hell had he allowed the kid to talk him in to flying in something smaller than his car?
The airport had one tiny paved airstrip and a cluster of buildings on the north side of the east-west runway. A half dozen single-engine pla
nes sat in tidy tethered rows
“You think there’ll be control towers in Colombia?” Andrew asked as he headed toward the open hangar door.
“Over half the country is jungle and mountains, so no, I don’t expect there to be control towers. Hell, I doubt there will be a real airport. But this is America. They can’t just let planes fly anywhere they want, landing and taking off without any kind of control.”
Andrew laughed. “Jeez, lighten up. I was in control. And I radioed my intentions to any other planes in the area.”
A teenage boy trotted out of the sliding metal door. “You need fuel?”
“Yeah, it needs to be topped off. Is Henry Cook around?” Andrew asked as he removed his sunglasses.
Karl scowled at his nephew. The kid was getting a little too cocky.
“He’s out with a student. He should be back in about fifteen minutes or so. You can wait inside in the pilot’s lounge if you want.”
“Thanks. Andrew, why don’t you help him with the plane,” Karl said and jerked his head toward the retreating teen.
Andrew winked at Karl and then followed the kid on his way toward the parked Cessna. “You learning how to fly?” he asked the boy.
Karl shook his head. Online or in person, his nephew had a knack for getting information. He pulled off his sunglasses as he stepped into the hangar. Several planes, twins and single engines, were shoe-horned into the tight space. To the left, another tall sliding door was half-way open and he could see the tail of a larger plane. A DC-3? Karl threaded his way between planes and rolling chests of tools.
The guy’s website had showcased a DC-3 he was restoring. Cook, the owner, had purchased several from South America, refurbished, and then resold them for a tidy profit. Karl stopped at the edge of the metal track for the rolling door and stared at the silver plane. Bare aluminum reflected the overhead mercury-vapor lights. The rounded lines and blunt nose called to mind old black and white news reels or maybe movies.
“Lookin’ for Henry?”
Karl turned at the voice behind him. An older man in a gray work shirt and navy pants stood slightly stooped, wiping his hands on a faded red bandana.
“The kid said he was out with a student.” Karl gestured to the plane. “This looks a heck of a lot better than those before pictures on your website.”
“Yep. A lot of cosmetic work and even more mechanical work to go before she’s airworthy again.” He stuffed the bandana into his back pocket. “You fly?”
Karl grinned. “No, I leave that to my nephew.” He turned back to the DC-3. “But seeing something like this sure fires up the imagination.” Was the old guy a mechanic, relative, or a part owner? Before he could decide how to play it, he heard Andrew’s voice.
“Hey Karl, Danny says they have a Coke machine in the pilot’s lounge.”
Glad for the interruption, Karl made his excuse to the old guy and joined his nephew on the way through a glass door marked Lounge.
“Danny’s mom, Cathy, is the receptionist and general office manager. He and his brother Ray, the one out taking flying lessons right now, work for Cook part time. The old guy in the hangar used to own this place before Cook bought him out.”
Karl pulled open a second glass door. “Jesus, is there anything you don’t know about this guy and his operation?” Andrew’s skills went way beyond the typical pale cyber geek holed up in a windowless computer lab.
“Nope. Why don’t you pay the nice lady for the fuel Danny pumped into our plane while I go buy you that Coke?” Andrew sauntered toward an open area with a couple of vending machines, coffee pots and a scattering of white Formica tables and wire-framed chairs.
Cathy smiled and handed him an invoice while chattering on about the good flying weather and some upcoming fund-raiser fly-in pancake deal. Early to mid-forties, pretty in a quiet way, she flirted with a casual “sir” that said she wasn’t serious but still gave him an ego boost. He handed her cash for the fuel and folded up the invoice. No wonder there weren’t a lot of planes flying in and out of the airport. Aviation gas cost more than the diesel for his boat.
Speakers mounted on the wall behind the counter announced an incoming plane as Andrew handed Karl a cold soda can.
“Is that your son on the radio?” Andrew asked. He popped the top on a Fanta and leaned against the counter as if settling in for a long visit.
Well why the hell not? Andrew could keep Cathy occupied and learn even more about Cook’s business while Karl presented the pilot with his proposition.
Waiting for Cook to wrap up his lesson, Karl walked around the lounge checking out the various pictures of restored airplanes. A love of old planes didn’t always make a lot of business sense, something Karl intended to exploit. Debts were mounting, and from what Andrew had dug up, a few of his customers hadn’t yet paid their repair bills and he was behind in his rent to the county for this facility.
The family had already fed Cook a few small smuggling jobs so they knew he wouldn’t balk over the legality of the job. What Karl didn’t know was if he’d have a problem stepping up to the major leagues.
A man in a white polo shirt and khaki pants walked in with a young man who looked like an older, and slightly darker, version of Danny. The kid grinned at Cathy and joined her behind the counter.
After a short conversation with his receptionist, the man approached Karl and stuck his hand out. “I’m Henry Cook. Cathy says you wanted to talk to me.”
“Karl Martinez. Good to meet you,” he said as they shook hands. The man was bald as a turtle and a good ten years older than the picture on his website. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
Cook’s dark eyebrows went up but he nodded and led Karl down a short hallway and into a small windowless office. He motioned Karl to one of the two molded plastic guest chairs arranged on one side of a cheap metal desk before lowering himself into the black leather chair on the other side. “What can I do for you?”
Not seeing any reason to ease into the conversation, Karl stated his first objective. “I have a DC-3 I’d like you to ferry up from Colombia. It needs refurbishing, the interior’s been gutted, and it has only the basic functioning instruments.”
Cook’s expression turned wary. He picked up a pen and idly tapped it against the palm of his other hand. “That’s a very expensive and time-consuming undertaking. Are you keeping the plane or do you have a buyer lined up?”
“I thought you might be interested in acquiring it.”
Cook frowned and the tapping stopped. “I’m not in the market for—”
“You’d get the plane, along with a percentage of the cargo’s profit. There would be no out-of-pocket expenses, except for your time.”
Wariness turned to speculation. The pen tapping resumed and then speeded up. “I have no interest in spending the rest of my life in a Colombian prison. Or worse.”
Yeah, but you’re not kicking me out of your office, are you? “I can guarantee getting into and out of Colombia would not be a problem. We’re paying ten times what you made for that trip to and from Costa Rica.”
The pen dropped to the desk and rolled to the edge before Cook caught it with trembling fingers. He cleared his throat. “I, ah, would need a deposit. You know, ah, some sort of retainer since I’d have to cancel lessons and stop work on the planes in my shop.”
Greedy little bastard. “If you have the time, let’s discuss some of the logistics right now.”
* * *
Ian tried to keep his gaze from wandering, but the chilled air in the restaurant did wonderful things to Kelly’s otherwise utilitarian top. In fact, if he moved his head just so—
“Would you cut that out?”
Kelly’s hushed words yanked him out of his rather crude appraisal. She shot him an exaggerated eye roll followed by an indulgent smile that gave him hope.
>
Get real, Razz. No way was Kelly Bishop going to be the girl to give his mamma the grandbabies she pestered him about every chance she got.
He shook his head and shrugged. “What can I say? I’m hardwired to notice my surroundings.”
The waitress delivered their cheeseburgers and fries and departed. Neither one of them spoke; instead they concentrated on their food. But he couldn’t seem to stop his gaze from returning to her. His interest took in a lot more territory than just her nicely formed chest. He wanted to feel the texture of her hair, her skin, to watch her eyes go dark and lose focus with passion.
“Now what are you doing?”
Ian started. Kelly was looking at him strangely. “You’re not seeing anyone are you?” Smooth, Razz, very smooth.
Her brows formed a small v. “No, but I seem to recall a possessive-looking blonde hunting you down that first day we talked in the lounge.”
“That would be Heather. It’s not working out.” He winced inside, hoping it didn’t show. He didn’t have a clue what Heather thought about them as a couple. They’d been seeing each other for about a month, but hadn’t yet slept together. Granted, their schedules kept them apart, but neither one of them tried very hard to make time for the other. That pretty much said it all.
But Heather wanted marriage and babies. So did he. Or did he? If he really wanted marriage and babies, why was he still single? And what was it about Kelly that he couldn’t walk away from? Sure he respected the hell out of what she did, her dedication and take-no-prisoners attitude. But could two people build a relationship from such divergent goals?
Idiot. Goals? He didn’t have a clue what her goals were. He pushed his half-eaten burger aside. Now he was acting like a teenage girl, thinking about a relationship on a first date. Maybe he should simply enjoy her and not worry about whether they had a future together.
He glanced at Kelly and almost groaned. Like the Krispy Kreme sign, “Hot Now” seemed to glow over her head, a beacon calling to him. Oh yeah, once he had Kelly in his bed, he wouldn’t let three hours go by without sampling her. And forget about going three weeks without any.
A Dangerous Leap Page 4