by Sarah Morgan
“It isn’t going to happen. I’d rather drop a hair drier in the bath while I’m standing in it. My plan is to ignore the feelings and hope they go away.” Brittany ate a few mouthfuls. “This is good.”
“It is. I’m trying to work out what’s in it—” Emily dissected the food on her plate. “And even if you’re planning on ignoring those feelings, you can still let Zach fly you to the hospital. It would be the perfect opportunity to prove to him once and for all that you’re not hiding anything. Think of it this way. The journey will be quick and free.”
“Nothing in life is free. Zach was the one who taught me that.”
And she wondered what the price was going to be this time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
OF ALL THE PLANES he’d flown since that first flight with Philip, the Cessna Caravan was his favorite. As a bush pilot, he’d flown at both ends of the temperature spectrum, first in Australia where he’d spent a short time flying for a company that served remote Aboriginal communities, then in Alaska where the sheer versatility and performance of the aircraft had enabled him to fly across 92,000 square miles of isolated Arctic wilderness that included the oil-rich Prudhoe Bay. He’d flown everyone from physician’s assistants on search-and-rescue missions, to a school volleyball team competing in a high school athletic program. They all had one thing in common. They needed a skilled pilot and a reliable plane that could land anywhere.
When it had come to setting up his own business, Zach had known which plane he wanted. He’d chosen the Amphibian so that he could land on any terrain, and opted for an interior luxurious enough to satisfy the pickiest billionaire.
Philip Law had taught him many things, one of which was the importance of a thorough preflight check.
Given that flying was still the single thing he loved most in the world, he figured it made sense to make sure the plane wasn’t likely to fall out of the sky.
He started at the nose of the aircraft, checking the battery and fuel control unit. The sun beat down on him and he wiped his forearm across his brow before moving on to the exhaust stack, the P3 pneumatic bleed air lines and the orange cockpit heat hoses. In this aircraft the engine-fire detection loop went around the exhaust stack and the P3 bleed air lines, so he made sure there were no cracks in the exhaust or loose connections that were likely to trigger the engine fire light and set off earsplitting alarms in the cockpit.
He moved through his checks, swift but thorough, and gave the cowling door a gentle punch with his fist to make sure it wasn’t going to pop open after takeoff.
Because he was on top of the aircraft, he saw the car approach and pull up.
A glimpse of rich gold in the driver’s seat told him Emily was driving and he watched as the two women hugged, displaying an emotional connection far outside the scope of his own experience. The visible demonstration of affection did nothing to warm the cold, dark place inside him.
He had no doubt that their friendship was deep and genuine. He also knew that true friendship required trust and a leap of faith, which was why his relationships only ever skimmed the surface.
It wasn’t just that he didn’t trust anyone. He knew he couldn’t be trusted.
And Brittany knew that, too.
She’d handed him her heart, and he’d dropped it.
He watched as she stepped out of the car.
Her hair shone in the sunlight and an oversize pair of dark glasses covered her eyes. She’d replaced her trademark shorts with a pair of skinny jeans and her favorite hiking boots with pretty canvas flats.
Wondering what the hell had possessed him to offer to fly her to the mainland, Zach turned back to the aircraft, finished his check and then joined her on the tarmac.
“Philip gave me the message that you’d changed your mind.” And he’d done it with a knowing look that Zach had chosen to ignore.
“I decided you were right.” She adjusted the glasses on her nose. “There was no reason at all for me to turn down your kind offer.”
It hadn’t been a kind offer. It had been a— What had it been?
A salve to his guilt?
He had no idea, but he was beginning to wish he’d kept his mouth shut.
As she stepped towards the plane, he caught the light scent of her perfume. His senses spun and desire ripped through him. As someone who rarely had a problem controlling his feelings, it was irritating to discover that lusting after someone wasn’t something you could turn off.
He gritted his teeth, pushed down the surge of awareness and watched as Brittany strolled around the plane and then stood with her hands on her hips and her head tilted to one side. “Is this a good moment to tell you that the nose is crooked?”
The sunlight added polish to her hair and her skin, and the breeze played with a loose strand, whipping it across her face.
She was arresting rather than pretty, her body honed to an impressive level of fitness from a life spent outdoors. But what really drew him wasn’t the dip of her waist or the curve of her mouth, it was the energy that pulsed from her, the sense of optimism that sent a thousand volts of positivity into the surrounding air. She was the type of person who assumed the toast would always land buttered-side up. He’d heard her described as “the girl next door” and had never really understood that because she was nothing like the neighbors he’d had growing up.
All he knew was that she was sexy as hell.
He wanted to bury himself in her. He wanted to take her, right there and then, like the animal he was fairly sure he was.
Instead he reached for a cloth and wiped his hands, focusing on the small things to try to distract from the feelings that were driving him crazy. “That’s normal.” His voice was surprisingly level given the fact that his willpower was stretched to breaking point. “The engine is canted down three degrees and to the right five degrees. Helps minimize propeller effects during power-ups.”
He prayed she wasn’t going to start talking to him about thrust or propulsion or he’d be in serious trouble.
The corner of her mouth dimpled into a smile. “I have no idea what any of that means.”
“Do you want me to explain?”
“No. This is your domain. I’ve never been a nervous flyer but if I knew the details, that might change. We should probably go, shouldn’t we? I don’t want to be late for my appointment.” She was talking a little too fast, the fingers on her good hand fiddling with the strap of her purse.
Recognizing the gesture, Zach frowned. He saw the same thing in passengers used to flying first-class in a jumbo jet, where most of the time they forgot they were even in the air. A small plane was a different experience and, for some, an unnerving one. “You don’t need to be anxious.”
“Why would I be anxious? You don’t scare me, Zach. You never did.”
He watched her for a long moment, absorbing the implications behind her answer. “I was talking about the plane.”
“Oh.” She captured a wayward strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, exposing the streak of pink on her cheek. “The answer is still no. I’m fine. I know you’re a good pilot. And it’s not as if it’s my first time.”
He wished she hadn’t used those exact words.
He remembered her first time.
Judging from the deepening color in her cheeks, she did, too.
She mumbled something unintelligible and then turned and climbed the steps into the plane leaving him wondering if it was safe to be standing this close to a tank of aviation fuel.
The way he was feeling right now, the aircraft was likely to ignite.
He followed her up the steps and saw her fumbling to fasten the belt without damaging her injured wrist. Her teeth were clamped on her lip as she focused on getting it done. She didn’t want his help and he didn’t want to give it.
He didn’t trust himself to be that close to her.
He was sure that both of them were relieved when the belt clicked home.
Wordless, he handed her a headset and settled h
imself in the cockpit, grateful for the routines and discipline that distracted him from the woman seated behind him.
The takeoff was smooth and the flight short and uneventful.
Once in the air, Zach forgot about his passenger. For a short flight like this one he chose not to switch on the autopilot, preferring to hand-fly the airplane. That strategy had kept him alive in icy conditions in Alaska, where he’d discovered the autopilot could mask cues. He listened to the airplane, drew on training, experience and sheer gut instinct. And he loved every moment. That part had never changed. His love for flying hadn’t reduced since that first time Philip had taken him up. If anything, it had deepened.
Twenty minutes later, he landed and checked on his passenger, only to find her asleep.
“Brittany.” He said her name, got no response and braced his hands on the arms of her seat. “Brittany.” This time he said it louder and she stirred, her eyes opening slowly, as if her eyelids were too heavy to lift.
Her eyes were bronze, flecked with gold lights, and they were focused on him. The look in them was one he remembered. It was the way she’d always looked at him in those first moments of waking.
Trusting.
The look was gone in an instant.
“Get away.” She pushed at his chest with her good hand. “You’re invading my personal space.”
“Yeah, well, there was no waking you.” He straightened, telling himself it was a good thing the trust had gone.
Expecting people to let you down was a much safer way to live a life.
“I have jet lag, that’s all.” She reached for her purse. “Will you be here when I come back?”
“You think I’m planning on leaving you stranded?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Defenseless against that accusation, Zach simply looked at her. “I’ll be here. Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, thank you. What will you do while you wait? Do you have someone else to fly?”
“Just you. Today is quiet.” He’d made sure he kept the day clear, just in case she’d changed her mind about accepting his offer. The fact that he’d turned down a potentially lucrative job flying a family to their lodge up in the mountains was information he didn’t intend to share. He’d told himself he owed her this favor. “I have things I can do.”
IT WAS A LONG time before Brittany reappeared, and when she did she looked irritated and visibly upset.
After several hours of trying to cure an acute case of sexual arousal by working on the plane, Zach’s mood wasn’t the sunniest, either.
“How was it?”
“I was hoping he’d say the plaster could come off in a couple of weeks, but he seems to think it needs to stay on a while longer if I want to regain full function of my wrist and not have problems in the future.” And she was obviously deeply unhappy about that decision.
“What did they say at the hospital in Greece? You had surgery?”
“Yes. They decided it was necessary because I’m young and need full movement of my wrist.” She climbed into the airplane and slumped into the nearest seat. “I’m starting to wish I’d paid more attention to where I was putting my feet.”
“What happened? You tripped and put your hand out to save yourself?”
“Yes. I wish I’d fallen on my face. At least I would have had two hands to work with. It’s driving me crazy. I’m bored out of my skull and I’ve only been home a few days.”
“What do you need to do that you can’t do at the moment?”
“Everything. I can’t even take my kayak out, which is one of the things I love doing when I’m home. I can’t ride my bike.” She frowned. “Actually maybe I could ride my bike. I don’t need two hands for that, right?”
He suspected this might be one of those instances where she wasn’t really asking for his opinion. “The trails are uneven. If you fall, it’s going to take longer to heal.”
“So what am I expected to do for the next month? Just sit around watching TV? I’ll die of boredom. And why did I never learn to do things with my left hand? I burned scrambled eggs this morning. How can anyone burn scrambled eggs?”
“Plenty of folk do that when they have both hands in use.” Risking his life, he reached forward to help her with her seat belt, and the backs of his fingers brushed against her abdomen. She tensed and her eyes met his.
In that brief unguarded moment he saw everything she was hiding. All the emotions simmering right there just beneath the surface.
And he knew she wasn’t indifferent.
Knew that everything he’d seen since he’d flown her to the island that first day had been an act.
“Brittany—”
“I’m really tired and it hasn’t been a great day so far. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to go home now.” Her voice was husky and she turned her head away, staring out the window.
He stared at her profile, seeing the clenched jaw and the glaze of misery in those golden eyes.
Knowing that he was the last person who should criticize someone for trying to hide their feelings he straightened and returned to the front of the airplane.
He’d disciplined himself right from the start never to allow emotions access to the cockpit. He flew with his head and his instincts engaged, knowing that plenty of accidents had occurred when the pilot was distracted.
He told himself that today was no different.
He might have dropped Brittany ten days into their marriage, but he wasn’t about to dump her into the ocean.
And if she was upset, well, she had her friends to talk to.
She didn’t need him.
WHY THE HELL hadn’t she taken the ferry?
Her head ached and her wrist throbbed, but the feeling that bothered her most of all was the butterfly flutter of awareness in her stomach that refused to die.
It was a feeling she associated with her teenage years, along with the heady excitement of first love and the shivery recklessness that was part of youth.
She didn’t expect to feel it now, years later, when she was older and supposedly wiser.
Too wise to be distracted by a strikingly handsome face and a body made of hard honed muscle and sinuous strength.
Remembering Sky’s suggestion that they should just have sex, she ran her good hand over her face and closed her eyes.
The more she tried not to think about it, the more she found herself thinking of nothing else. She could imagine herself sliding her hands under his shirt, tracing skin pulled taut over the brutal swell of hard muscle. She could feel the coarseness of chest hair grazing her naked flesh, the graze of his jaw as he dragged his mouth down her body. She could feel the slow stroke of his hands, the skill of his mouth …
Shit.
She opened her eyes.
She wasn’t going to feel any of that.
She wasn’t going to be the sort of woman who repeated her mistakes.
He’d been her first lover. She’d been eager, but clueless, following his lead in everything. It had felt like the biggest adventure of her life. She’d had relationships since, but nothing that had matched the physical intimacy she’d shared with Zach.
What would it be like now?
With a groan, she opened her eyes and stared out the window.
That was one question she was never going to be able to answer.
No way.
She wasn’t going there.
The moment they landed, she ripped off the headset, dived into her bag for her phone and called Emily.
The call went to voice mail and she decided to wait a few minutes and call back instead of leaving a message.
Zach strolled out of the cockpit. “Something wrong?”
“No. But I’m supposed to be calling Emily when we land, and her phone is going to voice mail.”
“I’ll take you home.” He gave her a long look that made her wonder if somewhere on his sophisticated instrument panel was a device that scanned her thoughts.
Presumably not, or the aircraft would have been filled with ringing alarms and flashing red lights.
“I’ll get a cab.” She fumbled with her seat belt, stood up and caught her foot in the strap of her purse in her haste to get away from him. Without her right hand to save her she would have fallen, but Zach shot out his arm and caught her around the waist.
She fell against him, her good hand planted in the middle of his chest and her thighs pressed against the hardness of his.
It was as if fate were trying to torture her.
She heard him mutter something under his breath, felt the strength of his arm and the warmth and pressure of his hand on the dip of her waist. In that instant there was no space between them. With anyone else she would have laughed it off as nothing more than an embarrassingly clumsy moment, but Zach wasn’t just anyone and she was a million miles from laughing. It was impossible not to notice that her body fitted against his perfectly. They molded together as if they’d been designed to custom fit and she felt a dizzy excitement she’d only ever felt when she was near him. Desire ran through her like liquid fire, sexual heat so intense she was afraid she might burn up right there and then. If the fuel tanks were full, it was likely she’d take the airplane with her. She had no idea how something so wrong could feel so right.
“Sorry. Clumsy seems to be my middle name.” Without meeting his eyes, she eased away from him and stooped to pick up her bag. Her legs were liquid. So were her insides.
She didn’t dare look at him. She didn’t need to know if he was feeling what she was feeling.
What she needed was to get out of here as fast as possible.
She called Emily again as she walked down the steps to the tarmac, the phone almost slipping from her fingers as she willed her friend to answer.
Pick up, pick up, pick up.
The phone went to voice mail again.
“My car is parked here.” His tone was level. If he’d felt what she had felt, then he wasn’t showing it. “I just need a few minutes and then I’ll take you.”