“This supposed to teach me how to fly that dang plane when my pilot has a heart attack?”
“You’ll be telling people you defied death and landed that bird even though it’s all autopilot these days. Don’t pretend you won’t.”
“Says you.” The man had figured her out. And she couldn’t decide if that was comforting or terrifying.
Most days, even her own momma didn’t understand her. Kaci understood herself. Since her second semester of college, when she’d finally stood up for what she wanted to do with her life, she was the only person she’d ever truly counted on.
“You’re all talk, Dr. Boudreaux.”
“And fire and catapults. You forgot that part.”
“And hog thief.” He chuckled again, that warm, delicious sound going straight to her core.
“Now you’re making stuff up.” She felt a smile growing.
Huh. Smiling while her body and mind were half-convinced she was flying. No small miracle there.
“Level her off.” He touched her thumb again, and she released the pressure on her throttle control. Spots of land appeared in the distance.
“That doesn’t look like Germany.”
“All right, smarty pants. You take us to Germany.” Lance released her hands.
She shrieked. She jerked the controller, and the view pitched and wobbled. A giant mass of sea loomed beyond the plane’s nose.
“Making it too easy, Dr. Boudreaux.” He covered her hands again, and with three easy flicks of his thumbs, the screen righted itself again.
Her heart flung itself against her ribs as though it had been launched out of a cannon. “Don’t do that again.”
His chest shook against her back.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“No.” But there it was again. That vibration. Along with a suspicious cough-snort.
She twisted around.
He dropped his gaze, but not before she caught the amusement dancing in his dark eyes. His lips wobbled, and he seemed to be sucking in his cheeks.
Kaci launched to her feet.
He was laughing at her. She was getting all hot and bothered, and he was just playing. “Thank you for your time, Captain Wheeler. Obviously, this isn’t gonna work.”
“It’s fine and dandy for you to give me shit over geography and who can fling a coconut farther, but I can’t give it back? Sit down and get over yourself, Miss Know-It-All. Turbulence happens, and the plane keeps flying. Did I let you crash? No. And you know what? The pilot flying a commercial jet won’t crash either. You’re in more danger in a car than you are in the air. You’re not going to crash.”
Ice crystallized over her skin, and her lungs couldn’t take in enough air. “Tell that to my daddy.”
She didn’t wait for understanding to dawn.
She couldn’t.
She needed fresh air, and then she needed to go blow something up.
Chapter 10
Lance’s plans for Saturday morning had been to ease into putting more moves on Kaci and play a few video games.
Instead, he’d gone and done something he was kicking himself for—he’d found the tough-as-nails, redneck physics professor’s supersecret soft underbelly.
If the woman would’ve told him who her father was, he might’ve gone easier on her.
Maybe.
He still would’ve let her take the controller, but he wouldn’t have told her planes don’t crash. After spending the morning following a hunch and hitting pay dirt on Google, he knew he’d fucked up.
Plain and simple.
She was supposed to be a fun distraction.
She’d just become something more.
Which was why on Saturday night he found himself squatting outside her apartment with two melting hot fudge sundaes when he would rather be hanging out at Pony’s place with the guys.
There weren’t any pumpkin-chucking contests going on in the area or any hog wrestling or pyrotechnic displays, so he assumed she’d be home sooner or later. She hadn’t answered her office phone number, and he didn’t have her personal number.
He’d barely settled on the floor, though, when he felt an ominous presence.
Kaci stopped against the opposite wall, arms folded over the dirt streaks on her Ole Miss T-shirt.
He squinted.
Looked almost like soot. So did the streaks on her tight jeans and her left cheek.
“You lost?” she said.
He’d had a speech planned. Something about pushing too hard. About being sorry about her dad. About…something.
But there was danger written in those sparking blue eyes. As though she were daring him to suggest she’d been a chicken. Or that she needed to be handled with kid gloves.
This woman had been through something. Possibly more than losing her father at a young age.
And he wanted to tear down every last brick in those walls she’d put up, to discover what made Kaci Boudreaux tick.
What made her happy.
What made her sad.
What motivated her. What inspired her. What she’d seen in her ex-husband.
In other words, the woman who was supposed to be his distraction was rapidly becoming a fascination.
And he wasn’t entirely certain that was a bad thing.
Good thing he was leaving in four weeks.
He slowly climbed to his feet, watching every nuance of her stance and expression. There were tight cords in her neck, a slender but defined bulge to her biceps, and a sweet heat rolling off her.
He held out a sundae. “Nuts?”
She eyed the sundae toppings with a flat, blue-flame gaze that he guessed probably left some of her male students more than a little uncomfortable from time to time. “You’re pushing it, sugar.”
“Got one without nuts too.” He lifted the other sundae. “Take your pick.”
She shifted those baby blues between his eyes and the ice cream. Just when he thought she would give him the boot, she plucked the sundae with nuts out of his hand and pushed past him to unlock her door. Without a word, she held it open for him.
Kaci being quiet—this was borderline terrifying.
Lance stepped into her apartment and followed her to the small kitchen. He caught a whiff of something girly, along with something that almost smelled like sulfur.
No telling if that was a good or bad sign.
He popped the plastic top off his sundae and settled on a stool at the countertop separating her kitchen from her living room. She slid him another unreadable look before digging into her own ice cream while she leaned back against her white cabinets.
Based on what he’d learned sniffing around the internet today, Kaci was about six years older than he was. She’d been in grade school when her father sank his F-15 in the Persian Gulf during the first Gulf War. She’d graduated as valedictorian from her high school in Cotton Blossom, Mississippi. And she was one of the featured speakers scheduled at a conference in Germany, presenting her breakthroughs in her research on efficient combustion.
But that wasn’t all he’d discovered.
He took a slow lick of hot fudge and melted ice cream, watching her eyes narrow and those tendons in her neck stiffen tighter.
“You come here to talk, or you one of those horn-dogs who gets off on watching a woman eat ice cream?” she said.
“Some of both.”
The corners of her lips flicked upward as though she were amused by his honesty.
He dipped his spoon back into the soupy mess of his sundae. “So, Miss Grits, huh?”
“You might want to switch back to just the ogling. Safer that way.”
He grinned. “How’s a beauty queen go from planning on majoring in English to being asked to fly across the Atlantic as the smartest professor at a physics conference?”
“The question you need to be asking yourself is how dumb you’re fixin’ to look when you walk out of here with your rear end where your face goes.”
God, this was fun. “Just sayin
g, English to physics is a big leap.”
“And I’m just saying it’s none of your business.”
He stirred his melted ice cream and watched the fudge swirl into the milky substance. “Went through pilot training with my sister,” he said. “Watching the shit they put her through for being a woman made me wonder what year we were living in. And she wouldn’t let me fight her battles for her, because she needed to prove herself to them. Not a single one of them’s laughing now, because she schooled all our asses. She had to. Nobody thought a woman could keep up. Changed her. And she loves flying fighters, but I still wonder how much she had to give up that I’ll never know about.”
She was poking her sundae but watching him closely as though she were puzzling him out.
He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Going out to Jim-Bob reminded me of how few female professors I had in college. Thought maybe you and Cheri had something in common.”
She slid the spoon into her mouth, and his groin twitched at the sight of her tongue. Behind him, something snuffled.
“Oh, Miss Higgs, I know.” Kaci set her ice cream down and crossed to the living room, where she picked up a massive white ball of fluff. “But you can’t have ice cream. Doctor’s orders.” She carried the thing—an oversized ferret? A mutant lab rat?—to the kitchen, then deposited it next to the fridge. “How about some kibble, kitty cat?”
Ah.
She had a cat.
A cat that needed a full minute to lower itself to the ground and roll onto its side while it made the snuffling noise again.
He shoveled a scoop of ice cream into his mouth, because if he didn’t, he was afraid he’d ask what was wrong with the thing.
And he had a feeling Kaci wouldn’t much appreciate that.
She pulled out a can of cat food and a can opener. “My momma wanted me to major in English,” she said to the can. “Thought my prospects would be better that way. She’s a strong believer in the power of making a good home to make a good life.”
He shoveled another spoonful of melted ice cream into his mouth to keep from insulting her momma.
Not that there was anything wrong with a woman wanting to be a homemaker—that was half of what he’d found attractive in Allison, if he were being honest with himself—but Kaci didn’t fit the homemaker mold.
“And you’re right,” she said. “Not many people switch from English to physics. Weren’t many who thought I could do it. But if you’re fixin’ to—”
“It’s impressive,” he said before she could get back on the warpath.
She slid him a suspicious eyeball.
He didn’t blink.
Had a feeling blinking would be a bad thing.
The cat snuffled again. Kaci set its food bowl on the floor, right next to its head.
“I have to go to Germany.” Her words held a ferocity that Lance recognized too well. “If I let being afraid of flying stop me from going to Germany, I’m missing a chance to show young girls everywhere that they’re smart enough to study science, technology, engineering, and math too. What good does it do me to be a good physicist if I can’t help pave the way for more women like me who are being told girls aren’t smart enough for math and science?”
“So let’s get you on that plane.”
She bit down on her lower lip.
“Come over tomorrow.” On second thought, Juice Box would probably be at home tomorrow. “Or I can bring the game over here. You can play it anytime you want.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I’m a nice guy.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he swallowed a chuckle.
She stalked to the counter between them. “Why did you quit kissing me that night we met?”
This was getting too personal. “Why did you let me kiss you in the first place?”
“I found out I had to get on a plane to Germany, then my ex-husband came sniffing around, and I was out of tequila at home. I needed a distraction. Your turn. Why did you really quit kissing me?”
He swallowed. “I didn’t know your name.”
Any other woman might’ve given him credit for his gallant chivalry.
Not Kaci.
“Then why did you start kissing me?” she said.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why?”
“Because if I do, it’ll change the way you’re looking at me, and honestly, I’d much rather have you sassing me and being a bulldog. You’re a sexy bulldog.”
“That’s the most insulting compliment I’ve ever gotten.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“Oh, no, sugar. Not that easy. I know a deflection when I see one. And that was a bad one.”
She had a point.
But she was also close enough for his favorite kind of distraction.
The good kind of distraction.
He brushed his thumb over the tip of her ear. She sucked in a surprised breath. He pushed up on his stool and touched his lips to hers, a soft whisper of a touch, and added the slightest flick of his tongue across her ripe lower lip.
“You’re cheating,” she whispered.
But she didn’t pull away.
He tugged her hair tie loose. The silky strands of her hair cascaded over his fingers while he angled his head and went in for a long, slow, deep kiss. She whimpered in his mouth and gripped his T-shirt, holding him in place while he tickled and teased her mouth with his tongue.
This was where they should’ve ended up last month.
Except tonight, he knew exactly who she was, and she was the only woman on his mind.
And tonight, she was letting him kiss her. Not only letting him, but kissing him right back. Her sassy tongue darted into his mouth. A low, throaty growl purred out of her. All rational thought fled his brain.
More.
He needed more of this woman.
His hands trailed down the soft skin of her neck to the curve of her shoulders. Too much fabric. Too many clothes.
She tightened her grip on his shirt. His hard-on bumped the underside of the counter, and he had to push up on the stool rungs to get close enough to her.
He wanted to feel the skin on her elbows. Taste her nipples. Lose himself between her legs.
And he wanted her now.
“Kaci—”
“No talking.”
She sealed her mouth back over his, and with one more tug, she had him crawling over the counter.
Crawling.
For this woman.
She gripped the back of his head with one hand while the other trailed down his shirt, igniting a sizzle on his skin that short-circuited the few brain cells he had left.
He landed on her side of the counter and suckled his way along her jawbone, each of her pants and moans making his groin throb harder.
She was crazy.
But she was also shoving her hands under his shirt while he bent her over the counter, wrapping her legs around his waist and thrusting against him while keeping up a running list of demands and instructions.
“Don’t stop.”
“There.”
“Sweet baby Jenga, that’s the spot.”
“More.”
“I hope you don’t kiss your momma with that—oooh, yes. Yes. More.”
She tweaked his nipples. She pushed his shirt off and nipped his shoulder. And that sweet core of hers rocking against him had him about to explode through his jeans. “Kaci—”
“No talking,” she said again. “Oh, my holy sweet heavens, who taught you to—yes.”
“You need to get naked,” he murmured into her elbow. He flicked his tongue over the silky skin.
She arched into him, her legs a vise grip on his hips. “If you think I’m taking orders from—”
Kissing her was remarkably effective.
But if he didn’t get both of them out of their clothes, his main event would be over before it started.
He lifted her shirt, letting his knuckles brush her ribs and lacy bra.
Something furry brushed his leg, and a long, snuffly wheeze broke through Kaci’s gasps and whimpers.
Lance pushed the cat away and pulled Kaci’s shirt over her head. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and planted those sweet lips back on his mouth.
The cat hacked out another wheeze. It yowled an unholy sound, as if it had a hairball from hell stuck in its throat.
“Miss Higgs.” Kaci shoved him away and dropped to the ground.
Her cat’s frosted eyes bulged out and its tongue hung limp. Its chest heaved, but the rest of it twitched and spasmed, its paws stretching and contracting involuntarily.
Kaci pulled the cat into her lap. “Oh, no, baby girl, don’t you do this. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be fine, sweet kitty. You just hang on.”
Shivers went down Lance’s spine.
The yowl dropped off and the twitching stopped, and the cat seemed to melt into Kaci’s lap. Its foggy eyes drifted shut, chest still heaving, but the rest of it—the thing looked dead.
She leapt to her feet, cradling the cat, and pushed past him.
She didn’t look at him, but he could see the gloss in her eyes and the fluttering of her pulse in her neck while she spun until she found her keys. “Sorry I can’t see you out, sugar.”
“Kaci—”
“I gotta get Miss Higgs to the doctor.”
The cat wheezed a desperate, gasping breath. Its front legs went stiff again, paws stretched out as though it were reaching for the doors to heaven.
Kaci sucked in a breath that would’ve sounded like a sob coming from any other woman. “Hold on, Miss Higgs. Just hold on, baby.”
“Kaci, your shirt.”
She whirled around, eyes wide, lips parted. She glanced frantically at the moaning cat in her arms, then at the shirt Lance held out.
His hard-on whimpered in frustration. And if the cat hadn’t looked about three centuries old, Lance might’ve suspected it was playing him.
“Here.” He gingerly reached for the furball, surprised to find it lighter than a six-pack under all its white fur and scarily stiff. “Let me take you to the vet.”
She had her shirt on and was reaching for the cat before he finished asking. “I got this. Thanks for—” Her chin wobbled, and this time, when she looked at him, there was an uncertainty he wouldn’t have expected from her a week ago. “Just…thanks.”
Her Rebel Heart Page 11