“What are you going to say?” asked Striker.
Julie had felt guilty.
Striker had said Allan knew about the contract.
“What I want to say to her is personal,” said Allan. “It won’t upset her.”
Erin had assumed that Allan somehow extorted sex. Which was a reasonable assumption given that he had to know how much Julie wanted his contract.
“Convince me,” said Striker to Allan.
Except that he never told Julie he knew about the contract. Which meant he couldn’t have bribed her.
Which put a huge flaw in Erin’s theory.
“Do we really have to do this?” asked Allan.
Which meant Erin might have just insulted the biggest potential client Elle Jewelers had ever had.
“You can talk to her,” said Striker. “But I don’t leave the room.”
Erin’s stomach clenched around nothing. She’d insulted him for no good reason.
Allan shook his head. “Your choice.” He brushed his way past Striker. “But you’re going to feel really stupid.”
As Allan headed for the staircase, Erin put a hand on Striker’s arm, squeezing tight. “Uh, Striker?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you think Allan coerced Julie into having sex with him?”
“I don’t want to believe it…”
Allan took the stairs two at a time.
“He didn’t tell her he knew about the contract,” said Erin, looking up at Striker. “How did he coerce her if he didn’t tell her about the contract?”
Julie’s bedroom door opened and they both turned their attention to the top of the stairs.
Allan spoke to Julie for a few seconds, his low words muffled by the distance. Then he pulled something out of his pocket and dropped down on one knee.
Erin’s heart sank. This didn’t look much like coercion. She had a horrible feeling her career had just ended for no reason.
Allan opened the velvet box and Julie’s eyes went wide as saucers as he slid a ring on her finger. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Allan grinned like a maniac and held her close.
“Allan was right,” said Striker into Erin’s ear. “I do feel really stupid.”
Julie said something to Allan and he laughed. Standing, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
“Erin!” she called down the stairs, waving her fingers. “It’s an ideal-cut, two-carat, blue-white flawless. With an emerald. I think he really loves me.”
Erin couldn’t help smiling.
So her career had tanked? So she’d insulted her best friend’s fiancé?
At least Julie was happy.
Allan took her hand as they came down the stairs and she rushed over to show Erin the ring, tears glistening in her eyes. The stones were stunning and the setting was perfect. A knotted gold band, with smooth swirls holding the big stones.
Erin hugged Julie. There was no way to be anything but thrilled.
“So, let’s take a look at that contract,” said Allan.
Erin drew back from Julie, her jaw dropping open. “But…”
Striker pressed his elbow against her ribs. “Get the nice man the contract, sweetheart.”
Erin didn’t understand. “But I accused you of coercing sex from Julie.”
Striker pressed harder. “Erin,” he muttered under his breath.
“I know,” said Allan, slipping an arm around Julie’s shoulders. “You’re quite the little pit bull when you’re upset.”
Erin didn’t know how to respond to that.
“You’re exactly the kind of person I want on my team. So, make me an offer. Let’s get this negotiation over with so we can go celebrate.”
12
THE WAVES LAPPED against Striker’s feet as he and Erin walked hand in hand along the beach. The sun was just starting to set, and they’d left Allan and Julie sharing a bottle of champagne on the deck of a local restaurant.
Allan had signed the contract and everyone seemed to be floating on air. Everyone except Striker.
Watching Allan and Julie together made him feel empty. He’d thought sleeping with Erin would be enough. With her, he’d already broken his all-time record for staying with a woman. Which, sadly, wasn’t saying much.
He wanted intimacy, he realized, companionship, warm nights by the fire and long conversations over dinner. He wanted somebody to laugh with, somebody who got his jokes, somebody who held him accountable. Somebody with ethics and standards, and the fire inside her to see them through.
He wanted a girlfriend all right. But not just any girlfriend.
He stopped, turning her toward him, taking both her hands in his.
The wind whipped her hair around her face.
He took a deep breath. “What about us?” he asked softly as the waves churned the sand beneath their feet.
“What about us?” she asked in return.
He nodded to where Allan and Julie were still visible on the deck. “You think we can have a happily ever after?”
The expression on her face went slack and her hands trembled slightly beneath his. “What?”
“You and me. You think we can do something with us?”
Her eyes dimmed and Striker’s stomach clenched.
She shook her head. “We had a good time, Striker. But it’s time to stop the fantasy.”
“But—”
“We’re from different worlds,” she said. “I knew that going in.”
Striker wasn’t ready to give up that easily. “Allan and Julie were from different worlds, too.”
Erin withdrew her hands. “That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“Julie wants to live in Allan’s world.”
Striker took a small step back, the cold ocean creeping up his calf. “But you don’t want to live in my world, is that it?”
“Don’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t—”
“Don’t do what? Invite you to see where this is going? Invite you to share my life?”
“Even if you were…”
“Even if I were what?”
She laughed, sounding jaded and worldly wise. “I live in Manhattan. You fix old airplanes in Seattle. What would we do? How would it work? Exactly how much do you want from me?”
So, that was it. In her eyes, he was still the uncouth charter pilot. He was beneath her stature, not welcome in her world.
Something flickered then died inside of Striker. “I guess I want to be the guy who’s important enough for you to change worlds.”
“Striker.” Her tone was pleading.
He shook his head. He could tell her he was rich and then maybe she’d say yes. He could tell her that his world and her world weren’t so far apart.
But he wouldn’t.
He reached out and touched her cheek one last time.
Striker the charter pilot was Striker the millionaire. But she couldn’t have one without the other.
“Goodbye, Erin.”
Her lower lip trembled. For a second there, he thought she might kiss him.
But she didn’t.
She took another step away, and the moment passed.
Striker had just struck out.
ERIN STARED AT the sunrise from her new ninth-floor office at Elle’s headquarters wondering for the thousandth time if Striker might have been serious. Then, for the thousandth time, she dismissed it as ridiculous.
He was now and always had been a hound dog. He’d been giving her a good fling, that was all. The sweet words, the romantic note, the rose, the tender declaration that he wanted to pursue a relationship, it was all part of his routine.
If she’d said yes, he might have spent another night with her, maybe another day, then he would have rode off into the sunset with sweet promises to call her.
But he never would.
This way, her heartache was over with quickly and cleanly. Another week, two at the most, and he’d be a footnote.
She’d definitely made the right decision.
The right decision.
It had been three sleepless nights since she’d made the right decision. Three sleepless nights and two frantic days of board meetings and congratulatory calls. She was the new golden child of Elle and everybody wanted her time.
Patrick sauntered in through her open office door. “How’s my favorite buyer today?”
She mustered up a smile. She had to stop wondering what Striker was doing. Probably with another woman already, that’s what.
“I’m a little tired,” she said to Patrick.
“Get used to it. They want you to fly to Burma next week.”
Burma? Her?
“Rubies?” she asked.
“You got it. Charles was slated to make the trip, but they need him in Russia, and you’re next on the list. Since Julie’s not available, they want you to take Scott.” Patrick turned his thumb and index finger into a mock gun and pretended to shoot her as he walked out of the office. “First class all the way from here on in.”
Flying to Burma for rubies. It was a dream come true. And Scott was one of the best—a gifted gemologist, attractive, intelligent, loaded with class.
So why did she suddenly picture a sweaty, dusty Striker working on a little plane six hours in the opposite direction of Burma?
She scrunched her eyes shut. What if he’d been serious?
No, no, no. She wasn’t going to think that way. He wasn’t serious. And even if he was, what was she supposed to do? Give up everything she’d ever worked for and go live above an airplane garage on the West Coast?
What if he spent all their money buying decrepit old planes? What if they had children and had to raise them in a stuffy little one bedroom garage apartment, never having new clothes, always longing for the toys they could only see on TV?
Besides, he wasn’t serious.
If she went back to Blue Earth Island, she’d only make a fool of herself.
She clicked on her computer, bringing up a report that was due in two days. The words and figures blurred in front of her eyes.
She clamped a hand over her forehead.
If she didn’t go back, she’d never know.
Was it worth her pride and her future to find out if he’d been serious?
“Erin?” Her secretary stuck her head through the doorway. “Should I book the Burma tickets for tomorrow?”
Erin stared at her secretary in silence, her fingers tightening around her pen. Was he the guy worth changing worlds for?
“Erin?”
Her heart rate sped up and she could feel perspiration break out all over her body.
“Give me a couple of days,” she said. “There’s something I have to do.”
DEREK’S FOOTFALLS ECHOED on the wooden steps as he sauntered up to Striker’s deck overlooking the rocky shore of Puget Sound.
“Mom was disappointed when you didn’t make the shareholders meeting,” he said.
Striker took a sip of his beer. “I got held up.” Taking the deck chair next to Striker, Derek mimicked his posture, putting his feet up on the low rail and scooping a can of beer out of the ice chest between the chairs.
“Women’ll do that to you,” he said, popping the tab.
“Who says it was a woman? I was out flying.”
Derek took a drink. “Uh-huh. Bet her name was Erin.”
“Erin went back to New York.”
“Alone?”
Striker shrugged. “How would I know?”
Derek grinned. “You leave her or she leave you?”
Striker didn’t answer.
“Finally struck out, did you?”
Striker shot his brother a glare.
Derek just kept grinning. “Just between us, what did you do to piss her off?”
Striker stared at a pair of gulls swooping over the waves in the bright sunlight. He took a swig of his beer. What the hell? “I asked her to stay.”
Derek nodded sagely. “Ouch.”
“You’re telling me.”
“She wasn’t interested?”
Striker shrugged. “She told me I didn’t fit her world.”
“What world is that? Monogamy?”
Striker clenched his fist. He’d never, not in a million years, ever screw around on Erin. “Give me a break.”
“You’re in love with her.”
Striker closed his eyes. It just plain ripped his guts out to hear someone say it out loud.
Derek’s tone turned serious. “What world didn’t you fit, Striker?”
“She thinks I’m an uncouth, bohemian, floatplane pilot who doesn’t have two nickels to rub together.”
Derek was silent for a moment. “Well, since you and I both know that’s not true, where the hell did she get that idea?”
“I was working on the Cessna when she met me.”
“And?”
“I thought she was a bit of a snob, so I never bothered to correct her initial assumption.”
“Even when you fell in love with her?”
“I didn’t…” Striker shifted his feet from the railing. “That was later.”
“Let me get this straight. You asked her to marry you, but she—”
“I didn’t ask her to marry me.”
Derek paused. “What did you ask her?”
“I asked her to hang around so we could see where the relationship went.”
Derek nodded. “Oh, well, what woman wouldn’t swoon at an offer like that? Did you mention you owned a house or did she think she’d have to bunk out in your plane?”
“Did you just drop by to ride my ass?”
“Well, somebody’s got to do it. You love her, Striker. You, you are ready to pledge monogamy to her, but you didn’t bother to tell her you could keep food on the table?”
“I wanted her to stay for me.”
“What else would she stay for?”
“My money.”
“She didn’t know about your money.”
Striker felt vindicated. “And she didn’t stay, did she?”
Derek sighed and sat back in his chair. “Do you love her?”
Striker sighed. “That’s irrelevant.”
Derek spoke slowly. “Do you love her?”
“Yes,” Striker hissed. He loved Erin. He was madly, passionately in love with Erin. He couldn’t think of any greater heaven than spending his life with her. And he couldn’t think of any worse hell than spending it without her.
Derek drained his beer and plunked the can down on the wood floor of the deck. “Then you use everything you have to win her.”
“Including the money?”
“Especially the money.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how it works,” said Derek.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“She ever been without money?”
Striker paused. “She grew up poor. She hated it.”
“And you asked her to dive right back into that lifestyle.” Derek chuckled darkly. “You don’t win a woman by looking as unappealing as possible, Striker. Jeez, you can be stupid sometimes.”
Derek wasn’t exactly the oracle of wisdom, but his words gave Striker pause.
“You win her by making yourself look good,” said Derek.
Striker hated to admit it, but his brother was right. He’d asked Erin to give up everything but him. He’d given her an impossible choice, and then asked her to make it. Change worlds for him?
What the hell had he been thinking?
STRIKER STOOD IN FRONT of his father’s desk, looking Jackson directly in the eye. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few days.”
Jackson nodded, barely glancing up from the report in front of him. “Well, I suppose you had to do something while you weren’t flying.”
He flipped to the last page and began scrolling his signature. “I hope you’re not here to try to convince me to let you go back up in the jet.”
Striker tried not to grin. “No. I’m her
e to tell you that you were right.”
Jackson stopped writing. He peered up at Striker. “About what?”
“About me.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “In what way?”
Striker should have known his father wouldn’t make this easy. If capitulation was what it took, fine. “I’ve been cavalier and irresponsible.”
“I thought you said you weren’t here to convince me to put you back in the jet.”
“I’m not.”
Jackson gestured with his pen. “Then what the hell was that all about?”
“I was serious.”
“Striker, my son, you are the master of saying things that people want to hear. You do it with women. You do it with your mother. And you try to do it with me.”
“But—”
“I can’t bring myself to believe that you took off for four days, had an epiphany, and are ready to repent and change your life.”
Striker clenched his jaw. He was capitulating here. He was giving his father everything his own way. Why did Jackson still have to argue?
The urge to walk out of the room was strong. But he fought it. “I’m serious,” he repeated. “No more joyrides, no more pickups, no more goofing off while I’m on duty.”
“What’s the catch?”
Striker shook his head. “No catch.”
Jackson’s eyebrows arched.
“Well, there is one little favor I need before I turn into a flawless son.”
“And that is?”
“I need to borrow the jet to impress a woman.”
Jackson’s jaw dropped open.
“You’ll like her, I promise.” Striker grinned.
“I don’t believe—”
“Dad.” Striker smiled. “I can see your grandchildren in her eyes.”
Jackson froze. The chill went out of his eyes. “That kind of woman?”
Striker nodded. “That kind of woman. Her name’s Erin, and she’s in New York, and I’ve got some serious explaining to do.”
“And you need my jet to do it with.”
“Pretty much.”
“You promise you’ll bring her home to meet your mother.”
“Tomorrow.”
Jackson smiled and dropped his pen onto the desktop.
ERIN RUSHED DOWN the causeway at Sea Tac Airport, her cell phone to her ear. She was trying frantically to line up a flight from the Seattle Harbor to Blue Earth Island. She’d left New York in such a hurry this morning that she didn’t have time to finalize plans.
Flying High Page 14