Under the Sun: A Companion Novella to Beneath Her Skin

by Mikell, Beth

  He came through the archway all muscle bound with boyish good looks. “Weather reports indicate a smooth ride. The passengers are assembled and ready to go. Plus all the gear is stowed—we just need our pilot,” Jake announced, staring in a contemplative way before he said, “Look, you can sit this one out, ya know. Or take the chase car on the ground to the landing site. No one will be the wiser.”

  After takeoff, a chase car followed the hot air balloon soaring above, but the idea of sitting out the launch did not sit well with her either. Honestly, she had been flying with Uncle Duck since she was six and obtained her student pilot’s license at age fourteen. By the time she was eighteen, she could operate a solo flight—or take up private passengers for a full-on paid service. She needed to get a grip on her emotional pity party—and fast.

  “No, I got this, Jake. If I get to the site and realize I can’t, I’ll let you know. You go ahead, I’m coming.” He hesitated a moment, his gaze wary, but he left.

  As she stood, her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Jennifer West, her best friend.

  S’up, doll? Hittin’ Main after work. U in?

  Brooke shook her head with a smile. Only Jennifer could part the Dead Sea and make her laugh after misery open-fired on her heart today. She replied, I have a headache. Going home.

  Jeez, could u b any more exciting? C’mon! Jump out of your granny panties and let’s hit the club, baby! We’re young and need some BAR air while we shake it in front of a room full of guys. Besides, some of our crew from Penn State will B there! Say YES, or I’m going nuclear!

  Brooke grinned and typed out her reply, Stow your reactor! I’ll be there!!

  See ya laterzzz. Ripcord!

  Ripcord? Jennifer’s latest way of saying good-bye after her infamous skydiving feat last week landed her in bed with her flight instructor. The girl was hopelessly flawed, but Brooke loved her. She was the closest person she had to a sister.

  They had met and shared a dorm room in college and they were different. Where Jennifer claimed to be a short, pixie redhead, Brooke was a tall and plain. Where Jennifer’s personality shouted down the house, Brooke was more reserved and understated. But the differences had never slowed down their friendship. While she shuffled through her aviation degree, Jennifer preened as an advertising graduate with the hope of rocking brands the way she did everything else. Honestly, if not for her, Brooke would have faded into the background of nothingness.

  She shoved her phone in the back pocket of her blue jeans and inadvertently knocked over her soda can in the process, spilling it all over the front of her pants.

  “Damn!” She jumped back and grabbed the soda can, but the damage was done. She was totally covered in the cold, sticky drink.

  Grabbing some paper towels, she cleaned up her mess with displeasure firming up her lips. She felt as graceful as a Clydesdale horse. And this fiasco would make her late for the launch. Now she had to change.

  She bent down to mop up the puddle on the tiled floor, still muttering under her breath. As she shot to her feet with soggy paper towels dangling from her hands, her eyes connected with the most startling pair of green eyes.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, taken aback by a tall man, eyeing her intently without a word or an expression. Brooke frowned at his silence. “Can I help you?”

  She could not help but admire his handsomeness with his tousled jet-black hair. A black leather jacket hung open over a white shirt, un-tucked. He wore blue jeans with nice leather walking boots. Her insides clenched with a strange, unfamiliar surge, and she wanted desperately to flee.

  He remained silent, nearly ashen under his tanned skin, while she was completely embarrassed that she looked like she wet her pants.

  Tossing the soiled towels in the wastebasket, she turned back to the unknown man. “Are you here for the balloon ride?” Suddenly nervous under his direct, hard stare, she reached up to twist a strand of hair at her ear. A habit whenever she was anxious.

  “Yes.”

  A one-word reply, but his voice was deep velvet and super smooth. She wilted under her embarrassment. She needed to make her escape. “I think the Ascent team is ready. You may want to go join them,” she offered. “I’ve had a run-in with a soda can… and need to freshen up. Excuse me.”

  As she walked by him, his hand snaked out, grasping her upper arm with light pressure. “Are you coming?” he asked with ragged desperation.

  Her breath punched out her body at his touch, and heat traveled through her veins, making her blush. “Well, yes, mister…?”

  He visibly relaxed, as if he had been tightly drawn, and his lips drew up in a hint of a smile and the color returned to his cheeks.

  “Damon Sinclair.” His green eyes remained fixed.

  She could not breathe and every mental function in her mind closed down. He smelled rich of expensive cologne, though subtle and mouth watering. Up close, he was even more beautiful. Besides his sea-beauty eyes, his blade of a nose was balanced perfectly over firm, full lips with the trace of a cleft in his chin—a total hottie.

  Damon dropped his hand and stepped back. “Forgive me, Miss…?” His eyes narrowed.

  She swallowed hard, searching for her voice. “Brooke Stone.” She mentally berated herself for slobbering.

  He smiled, sexy and undefined. “Ah, Ms. Stone. Owner of Ascent? A pleasure to meet you at last,” he said artfully. “I have heard many wonderful things about you from clients and business associates that I had to experience hot air ballooning for myself.”

  Brooke’s cheeks burned under his compliments and stare. “Thank you, Mr. Sinclair. We aim to give our guests the highest pleasure and experience.”

  She just sounded like a condom ad. Hello rush of hormones.

  He chuckled. “Indeed.” But he didn’t elaborate.

  She flushed more, knowing for sure he had glimpsed the condom ad in her words too. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Sinclair, I must ready myself.” The sticky cola clung to her legs, reminding Brooke of her less than attractive appearance.

  He merely inclined his head, his smile fading as a strange hitch altered his breathing. An overwhelming urge to stay filled her—she wanted to calm him. “I’ll only be a moment.”

  “Oh, there you are, Brooke.”

  She found Harry Brewster, standing in the doorway. He was Uncle Duck’s friend, a seasoned Vietnam War veteran, and one of the best hot air balloon pilots ever. Past sixty and dressed in jeans with an Ascent pullover gracing his thin body, Harry stood six feet of subtle kindness. His bark was a lot worse than his bite. Having grown up with him, he was always an ever constant in Brooke’s life just like Uncle Duck. But for her, he was all sweetness.

  Harry eyed her with humor lurking in his soft gray eyes. “What happened to you, Lady Bug?”

  She wanted to cringe at his pet name for her in front of the hottie, venturing a sideways glance up to tall, dark, and handsome. She found him staring, again. The ashen pallor reappeared under his skin, and she opted to control her embarrassment, wondering what made him so uncomfortable. Maybe he was nervous about his first trip up in a hot air balloon.

  “Oh, you know,” she said to Harry. “Danger prone as always, though the can of soda won this time.” She winked, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

  Harry rolled his eyes. “Humph! Go change. We are ready to head out,” he said with a soft smile. Though he would never dream of bantering at her expense, a small chuckle rumbled through his chest.

  “This is Mr. Sinclair, Uncle Harry.” She introduced the man standing next to her. “He is here for his first flight—make him feel at home.” With a last glance toward the green-eyed hottie, she moved past Harry and planted a soft kiss on his rough, stubbly cheek. She inhaled his familiar peppermint scent. “Five minutes.”

  Back in the locker room, Brooke headed straight to her private office, and shut the door. She fished her phone from her back pocket, placing it on the corner of her desk. Kicking off her shoes, she dug out a pair of fresh jeans
and panties from her locker.

  Aside from drenching herself in cola, what was up with Mr. Serious Sinclair? He looked as if he had seen a ghost and was afraid to breathe. Maybe it was nerves. She shrugged it off. Over the years, she had seen her fair share of basket case guests to overly enthused extremists. Maybe he fell into the basket case category, but by a glance alone, she hardly figured so. The man oozed lithe strength and she could not imagine him fearing anything.

  She pulled out her hair band, and snagged a brush through her hair, venturing a glance at herself in the mirror. Then, she closed her eyes, appalled. Before she could care, her phone buzzed with another incoming text. She grabbed the device and flipped it over—Jennifer again.

  Sweet-ums, come directly 2 my apartment and we’ll dress 2gether B4 going out. I just got a new halter u can wear that will drive the horn bees CRAZEE! Feel me?

  Brooke laughed. How could she refuse? And she tapped out her reply, K. Should b there by 8:30 P.M. or so. Gotta run. Sunset flight. Good?

  Ab-so-freaky! C-ya, baby doll! Ripppcord!

  With a shake of her head, Brooke shoved her phone back into her jeans pocket and threw her hair back up, ready to go. Oddly enough, her melancholy mood had vanished, and she could not wait to go out tonight. However, sooner than that… she could not wait to see the green-eyed hottie again.

  ****

  Even as Damon stood in the empty break room after Brooke’s departure, he still could not breathe. Pain twisted inside him.

  She smelled of almonds and honey, and her scent still lingered in the air. While at first he had been tempted to drag her into his arms and pronounce her Olivia, she moved differently. She spoke more youthful with fire dancing in her lavender eyes.

  God, her eyes. Sweet heaven.

  He could drown in the purple depths and die happy, but they had been red and swollen.

  Had she recently cried?

  He hated to think so. Olivia once had the same fathoms of color, but they had never danced, or sparkled with such amazing clarity. There had always been a grave sadness inside his late wife—one he could not erase. He needed another breath of Brooke Stone. Soon.

  ****

  Brooke stepped outside Ascent’s double doors and found herself reflected in the intense eyes of Mr. Sinclair.

  Was he waiting for her?

  Oddly, the thought warmed her somehow, and terrified her on other levels she could not even begin to analyze.

  He inclined his head, his expression guarded. “Ms. Stone, would you ride with me to the launch site? I would like to ask some questions regarding our flight.”

  Momentarily stunned, she didn’t see that one coming. Maybe he was nervous. “That is an unusual request and rules dictate that I refuse you, Mr. Sinclair.” She made her stand, businesslike and sure, with a proud tilt to her head.

  Yeah, he wouldn’t buy it.

  His lips turned up into a pleasant smile, transforming his face from pensive to friendly. “I can appreciate that, but I never allow anyone I don’t know to fly me to an unknown location. It’s just the way I am. Since you are my pilot for today, I would like to discuss your experiences before I impart my trust upon you.”

  Brooke flushed with embarrassment, yet bristled at his tone. Her eyes glazed over with coolness. “I can assure you, Mr. Sinclair, I am highly qualified with regards to experience. You have nothing to fear.”

  Damon grinned. “I have offended you, my apologies.” He stepped closer. “Very well, I will place my trust in you completely, Ms. Stone. Can’t you do the same?”

  Something about his eyes made her wary. The urge to step back and sprint toward escape gushed through her, yet she could not move. Her legs were glued firmly in place, waiting for the next smooth words from his lips.

  Mentally, she shook herself, and focused. “Very well Mr. Sinclair. I’ll ride with you.” She had her phone, right? She could call for help if need be, but she hated to see Harry’s reaction when she announced her plan. He was as protective as Uncle Duck used to be. “Let me tell the crew.” Brooke sidestepped him and breathed a sigh of relief, only because he took her breath over a mountain of thin air, and scalded her hot.

  The man unsettled her.

  As she sat next to him in the back seat of his Hummer, his driver followed the Ascent vehicles to the launch site. She thought of Harry’s reaction. He had been angry, but he had finally relented. Following protocol was his military staple and deviation warranted a great penalty. After a few sad moments with her eyes, he finally conceded, God bless him. Sitting next to Damon now, she wondered about her sanity.

  He broke the heavy silence. “How long have you been flying?”

  Her throat tightened when she found him staring at her—like a meal waiting to be served up. Brooke tried to swallow back the feeling and her right hand reached up to twist the stray hair at her ear.

  “I’ve been going up in hot air balloons since I was six, flying at fourteen under supervision. I took my first solo by eighteen. I guess you could say I’ve grown up with it,” she said, shrugging as if the knowledge was no big deal.

  “Wasn’t that dangerous for a child?” His eyes revealed nothing, yet he studied her.

  She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “Perhaps, but my late Uncle Duck was very careful and Harry always accompanied us. Plus, I was tethered to the craft for safety, so I never gave it much thought. Is this what you are worried about, Mr. Sinclair? Determining if my ability is genuine?” She did not bother masking her irritation. “I can assure you, I have more than enough flight time under my belt as well as a degree in aviation to back up my experience. I am also a licensed airplane pilot. You’re in capable hands.” Brooke could have sworn his eyes widened ever so slightly, but as she blinked, his facial expression remained passive.

  “Capable, Ms. Stone?” He reached for one of her hands, then he caressed her skin.

  She drew a sharp breath, and her heart stabbed her chest with an unexpected pain. She peered down at their joined hands, shocked by how his engulfed hers so perfectly. His warmth and the circular motion of his thumb swished her blood faster through her veins. However, she could not pull her hand away, mesmerized by the link of flesh-to-flesh. Obscure electricity sang through her body, firing hotter than the afterburners on a turbo jet plane. Her pulse beat rampant until she had no choice but to drag air into her deprived lungs.

  “Such a strong, fine, elegant hand, Ms. Stone,” Damon whispered. “It makes me wonder what other things you are capable of?” His closed expression revealed nothing.

  Her eyes met his, yet the constriction in her chest tightened more. “I—I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Sinclair, I am quite possibly the most boring woman in existence.”

  She felt like a gangly girl with big feet and not a lick of grace within her body. Heck, an elephant could blaze a catwalk with diva style before she could. And why did he care? She thought he wanted a list of her credentials, not a strange feel-up in the backseat of his Hummer.

  His hand stilled before his shoulders shook with a chuckle. “I’m sure you’re mistaken, Ms. Stone. Though I’ve only just met you, somehow I stand in complete admiration of your abilities.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Really, Mr. Sinclair,” Brooke began dryly. “We’ve barely spent ten minutes together, which is hardly enough time to admire anyone for legitimate reasons.”

  He matched her raised brow, his eyes crinkling. “Oh? Do you think I have illegitimate reasons in mind?”

  She paled. “I don’t know you.” An unmatched fear frosted her insides. While she found him incredibly delicious to look at—he knocked her off balance.

  “I’d like to know you better,” he rasped.

  Could he hear her altered breathing, or feel how clammy her hand was? Taken by surprise, Brooke could not imagine a reply, but happily, the Hummer slowed, and she glanced at the road ahead. They had reached the launch site, and somehow a ‘thank God’ was in order.

  Brooke snatched her hand back, staring ahead. “
Sorry, Mr. Sinclair, but we have arrived. Ascent maintains a high regard of excellence and professionalism. If you don’t mind, please respect the boundaries therein.” She flicked her cool violet gaze to him, daring him to intimidate her. “I am simply your pilot and you are my paying guest. Excuse me.” Without a look back, she flung open the Hummer door and left with an air of irritation.

  She’d had friendly interest from men, seeking her company, usually for sex. Though she knew absolutely nothing about him except for his name, he treated her so delicately—so much like a woman. Something she had never experienced before in her life. Having grown up with Uncle Duck and Harry, she never had much in the way of feminine guidance. Not until Jennifer bull-horned it into her head via crazy ventures in extreme shopping and sexy nightclub escapades, ending with too much drinking and dancing. Still, she wasn’t womanly. Why did Damon Sinclair show her a tenth of his charm? She shook her head, annoyed.

  Jake stepped in front of her, and concern etched his face. “How’s the headache?”

  “All gone.” Instead of dwelling on personal issues, Brooke summoned her business façade. “Jake, please gather all the passengers and begin the meet and greet. I want to help set up and begin preflight checks.”

  He nodded. “Will do.”

  She made her way to one of the five vans to help offload the hot air balloon equipment, focused on her task. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mr. Sinclair did not join the other passengers, but he leaned up against his Hummer, watching her. She was in no mood to request that he join the meet and greet.

  Two balloons were going up. One medium sized balloon called Summer Jamboree with a party of four passengers. The other was her baby, Slippery Lady, the smaller balloon for single or private rides.

  Just for her and Mr. Sinclair.

  She focused on the tasks as familiar as breathing. Brooke helped to assemble the aircraft. The process took about ten minutes from start to finish, and she tried hard to prolong it, but Harry handed her the preflight checklist, making her that much closer to her alone time with one beautiful man.