“You don’t owe me a thing, honey. I’m glad your mom is going to be fine. I have to fly back this afternoon, though. So you’ll have to decide what you want to do—come with me, or rent a car and drive back.”
“I know. I’ve been debating that for the past couple of hours.” Those last two minutes before they’d touched down brought back the terrible memories of the crash. She wasn’t sure she could handle another flight so soon. But maybe it would be better to “get back on the horse” again. She’d been avoiding it for fifteen years, and while the fear still cascaded through her when she thought about flying, she remembered the exhilaration she felt this morning when they took off. She’d blocked the joy of flying for so long, she’d almost forgotten how potent it was.
She studied Owen’s face while he waited for her decision. There was no judgment there, no disappointment that she hadn’t leapt at the opportunity to go back with him. He simply stood there, calm, strong, and accepting. Her mother was right. This guy was a keeper. And she was so falling for him.
“I’ll fly back with you.”
His face split into a smile. “Good.” He winked at her. “I’d be very lonely without your company.”
Miranda snorted her disbelief. “Yeah. Right.”
“She’s back.” Neil rushed to the stretcher as it went by the waiting room door.
The nurse smiled. “Just let us get her settled in bed. Then you can come see her.”
Neil watched until the stretcher disappeared into her room. “She looked okay, don’t you think? I mean, she had that bandage on her neck, but she looked okay.”
Miranda put a hand on his arm. “She seemed fine, Neil. Sleepy, but fine.”
“Yeah. Sleepy. But that’s to be expected, right?” He seemed more nervous now than he’d been the past couple of hours. He bounced on the balls of his feet like a kid on Christmas morning, waiting to open his presents.
The nurse reappeared in the doorway. “You can see her now.” She held up a finger. “One at a time, please. And don’t stay too long. She needs to rest, and the drugs will still be making her drowsy.”
Neil nodded and hurried down the hall.
Miranda sat, and Owen took the chair next to her. He picked up her hand and twined her fingers in his. “Your stepdad may have his faults, but he sure loves your mom.”
“I know. After my dad… After he died, she was depressed for years. They’d been so good together, I thought she’d never find someone to take his place.” She shook her head ruefully. “Then along came Neil, bursting at the seams with good humor. She tried to resist him, but—” Miranda laughed. “He’s like a force of nature.”
The force of nature bounced back into the room. “You can go in now. She’s good.” Neil beamed at them both.
Miranda left the two of them. “I won’t be long. I don’t want to wear her out.”
Neil rushed over and clasped Owen in a bear hug. “I won’t get to talk to you again for a while. Miranda’s mad at me for telling you about—you know. But you’re good for her, I can tell. Try to get her back in the air again. Her momma told me how much it meant to her before things went bad.”
“I’ll do my best, Neil, but it may take a while. You take care of Shirley. When she’s better, maybe I can bring you down to Mimosa Key for a visit with Miranda.”
“That’d be nice. Real nice.”
Miranda returned, her face the most relaxed Owen had seen it since he watched her sleeping last night.
“We should go now. Mom could barely stay awake.” She turned a thoughtful look on Owen. “She told me to tell you you’re not off the hook. What did she mean by that?”
He raised both brows. “I have no idea.”
“Liar.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, we have a plane to catch.” He felt the tremor down her back, but she squared her shoulders and nodded.
“We do.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Miranda chose to ride in the same seat on their way back to Naples. Owen was disappointed but didn’t push for her to sit up front with him. With all that he had learned in the past few hours, plus all that he still didn’t know, he was happy enough that she was willing to fly back with him.
She was a pilot. He knew from experience, once you felt that particular joy, it was difficult to give it up. Being in a crash that killed someone you loved could do it, though.
If only he could get her back at the controls. Flying with her as copilot would be fantastic. She might even be willing to come work for Argosy. Slow down, buddy. You’re way into fantasyland now. He glanced back and caught her staring out the window, a half-smile on her lips. Good. One small step at a time.
He’d be in and out of Naples a lot in the next few weeks, setting up operations at the airport for Argosy. He planned on spending a lot of his down time with the beautiful brunette who had wormed her way into his heart. He had Hank, and Mark Rossman, to thank for that.
I hope this FBI crap wraps up soon. I don’t like the idea of Miranda being involved, even as indirectly as she is. I wonder how the fishing trip went. We should be back by four o’clock. I hope Miranda is still up for our dinner date and a walk on the beach.
Then, later … his dick was hardening at the thought of Miranda under him again. He shifted in his seat to ease the strain on his zipper. “How are you making out back there?”
“Hangin’ in there, Captain.” She flashed him an anxious smile. “About thirty minutes to touchdown, right?”
“Have you been sneaking a look at the instruments? Hard to stop doing the calcs when you’re airborne, isn’t it?”
“Don’t go there, Owen.” She swiveled her head back to look out the window.
“Sorry.”
No answer. Shit. He concentrated on flying and kept his mouth shut. Flying conditions were still optimal, although an on-shore breeze had picked up as the sun dipped toward the west, tinting the cloud bank on the horizon a deep peach. The days were still short in February, but they’d touch down well before sunset.
As he lined up to enter the traffic pattern at Naples airport, he glanced back at Miranda. She’d been quiet since his earlier comment. “Touchdown in ten.” He watched as she drew her body into a tight clench, arms wrapped around her ribcage, chin tucked down, eyes squeezed shut. Damn. There was nothing he could do to help her from here.
He entered the pattern and got clearance from the tower. He trimmed the plane, dropped the landing gear, and banked left for the base leg. They would land on the same runway they had taken off from. The wind gusts off the gulf were picking up a bit as they came around to final, and the plane rocked slightly as the left wing tried to angle up. He heard Miranda yelp but didn’t take his eyes off the runway as it rose to meet them. Less than a minute, and the rear wheels hit together, followed by the nose wheel. They were on the ground without a hitch.
He took a second to glance back as they rolled toward the taxiway. Miranda was hunched over as far as the seat belt would allow. Her head was down, so he couldn’t see her eyes, but he guessed they were shut tight. His heart ached for her. He kept his tone light as they taxied to his tie-down spot. “Home again, home again, lickety-split.”
No response from his passenger. He cut the engines, released his belt and leaned back to brush his hand over her head. She uncurled slowly, and when she opened her eyes, tears slid down her cheeks. She swiped them away with an impatient hand and tried to smile. “No worries. I’m fine.”
Right. Owen sighed. “Let’s get out of here, Miranda. We’re still on for dinner, aren’t we?”
“I, uh,” she shook her head as though to clear away the cobwebs. “Sure. I thought maybe you might not—”
“Want to take that walk on the beach you promised me?” he interrupted. “You’re not getting out of your promise that easily.”
Her smile steadied. “No, fool, I thought you might have to leave sooner than you planned. I’d love dinner and a beach walk. Drop me off so I can shower and change. I�
��ll be ready by six.”
She was resilient, he had to give her that. One more notch up on his “Best Woman in the World” scale. She was getting perilously near the “Can’t Live Without Her” mark. Then what would he do?
Owen shut the condo door and tossed his keys on the table. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he headed toward his room. His cell phone chimed. Shit, Miranda’d changed her mind about dinner. His spirits plummeted. He fished the instrument from his pocket and read the screen. Mike Rossman. He sighed. At least it wasn’t Miranda canceling. “What’s up, Mike?”
“Where the hell have you been all day?” Mike growled.
What? “Wait just a damn minute. Last time I checked, I wasn’t one of your agents, so as far as I’m concerned, I don’t have to get your permission to take a dump, let alone give you my agenda for the day. You want to pull rank, call Hank.” Owen smiled at the rhyme in spite of his annoyance.
“Sorry, Owen. Just trying to stay on top of things. I thought you might have some new info for me.”
“Again, let me remind you. Not an agent. Minimal participation. That’s what you promised, and that’s all I signed on for.”
“True. I figured you’d be more interested in cutting the legs out from under these assholes since your new girlfriend would be handling their travel plans in the future.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Mike? I was with her today because she needed a quick hop to Atlanta to see her mother, who had surgery this morning. She’s not my girlfriend.” One roll in the hay did not a girlfriend make. He caught his reflection in the mirror over his dresser. He was such a liar.
“Yeah? Well, Hank left a message hinting that the Jansens were real interested in chartering a plane for a trip to the Keys, and because you had treated them so well on the flight down, they thought of your company first. I imagine tomorrow Mr. Jansen or his bodyguard will talk with Miranda about it. Tell me she isn’t going to try to sell them on your company.”
Owen dragged his hand through his hair. She would. That was, after all, the whole idea of joint promotion between Argosy and Casa Blanca. Shit. He hated the idea of Miranda being within a mile of this pack of thieves. Everything had moved so fast. He’d hardly expected to meet a woman who had become so important to him in a few short days. Now she’d be in the line of fire if there was the least bit of suspicion the FBI was sniffing around.
“Of course she’ll tout Argosy. That’s what she’s supposed to do. Look, Mike, I don’t have the planes or the crew to leap into action at the snap of your fingers. I have to check out planes and interview pilots, besides finalizing a contract at Naples airport for tie-down space and fueling charges. This operation can’t be put in place in the blink of an eye.”
“I realize that. And Miranda will have to explain that to Mr. Jansen, or whoever. We’ll see if he’s so anxious to get started that he hires another charter outfit out of Naples. Meanwhile, the bureau would really appreciate it if you could fast-track your operations down here.”
Ordinarily, Owen would have told Mike to piss up a rope, but the image of Miranda at her desk explaining the time frame to Mr. Jansen gave him pause. “I’ll do my best, Mike, but don’t expect miracles.”
“Hard not to, O. Why do you think your handle over in the sandbox was ‘Fixer’? Keep in touch.”
The phone went dead, and Owen barely restrained himself from flinging it across the room. How did he let himself get talked into this crap? The picture of those three little girls running out of that house in Afghanistan haunted him. He would not be responsible for collateral damage again. He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. Even steaming hot water couldn’t erase the guilt he carried for that drone strike.
No way would he let anything happen to Miranda on his watch.
~~~
Miranda let Tinkerbelle and Icarus out of their cage while she did a fast clean and feed. They flew straight for the ficus tree on the lanai, chirping happily.
Now, my turn. She felt like she hadn’t bathed in days, instead of just hours. All of the day’s stress was written on her skin in sweat. Thank goodness her mom’s operation had gone without a hitch. She’d be on blood thinners for a while, but the doctor said she’d recover quickly and be home in a day or so. Neil would hover over her like a guardian angel, so she had no worries about her care.
She could have strangled him for telling Owen she was a pilot. She hadn’t actually lied to him about it, but her silence surely counted as a sin of omission. Did he think her a wimp? An idiot? A faint-hearted floozy? Probably all of the above. He had wanted her to ride right seat on the flight home, but there was no way she could handle that. He had a point, though. Maybe she should talk to a therapist, now that the trauma wasn’t so fresh. She couldn’t deny that she had loved being in the air again. But both landings had been waking nightmares. She’d barely managed to keep it together enough to get off the plane under her own power.
Miranda went into the bedroom and stopped short at the sight of the unmade bed. There had been no time for straightening up before they left for the airport. She reached for the pillow from Owen’s side, pressed it against her face and inhaled. It still carried his musky, supercharged scent. Her insides clenched, and her nipples peaked against her blouse. Last night had been the best sex she’d ever had. She stripped the sheets and put on a fresh set, hoping they, too, would smell like Owen by morning.
He’d been amazing when she told him what Neil had called about. Instantly in charge, he knew what needed to happen and started issuing orders. When she balked, he simply laid out her options and shrugged. She had a choice to make, and he sat calmly on the bed until she made it. No impatience, no urging her to do what he thought was best. He waited until she made up her mind, then went into action. Looking back, he was quick, efficient, and thorough as he orchestrated their departure.
She ducked into the shower and immediately recalled this morning’s experience. She’d been panic-stricken about her mom, but even that couldn’t keep Owen’s hard, carved body out of her peripheral vision. Yet he didn’t take advantage of their naked nearness, although she could tell from a stolen glance that at least one part of him would have liked to.
She put on a long blue skirt with a thigh-high slit, and a blue and white silk shirt with a boat neck and cold shoulder cut-outs. Gold hoops with tiny seahorse charms went in her ears, and a single pearl dangled from a fine gold chain to nestle in the hollow at her throat. Her usual swipe of mascara, dab of lip gloss, plus a spritz of scent behind her ears and she was ready.
Owen came to the door dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt open at the collar, and the pale blue linen sports coat he’d worn to the meeting with Lacey. She managed to refrain from leaping into his arms, but it was a near thing. When he presented her with a bouquet of violets and snapdragons, her eyes filled. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Owen, they’re beautiful. Come inside a minute while I put them in water.
He followed her to the kitchen and noticed the empty cage. “Your birds fly their coop?”
“Only as far as the porch.” She sighed. “I wish I could have a huge screened-in back yard so that they could really fly around.”
“Oh? Do you think they miss that?”
“Well, it seems criminal to keep them from doing what comes naturally …” She cocked her head and looked at Owen through narrowed eyes. “Nice try, Captain. And totally unfair.”
“I believe we were talking about the birds. I’m sorry if you thought of something else.” There was a sparkle in his eyes and not a hint of remorse in his expression.
She tsked and set the vase of flowers on the windowsill. They would not talk about flying tonight. “Come on. I’m starving.” She grasped his hand and tugged him toward the front door, where he pulled her to a halt. “What?”
“I have to have at least one kiss before we leave. All those hours in public without being able to touch you were very hard to tolerate.” He wrapp
ed his arms around her and held her close. “Now, this is much more like it.” He covered her lips with his and teased hers open.
Her arms slid up his chest and around his neck as their tongues tangled and tasted each other. Before she completely lost her mind, she pushed against his shoulders.
Zero degrees of separation.
It reminded her of that first night in Rick’s Cafe, when she hadn’t been able to move him. He appeared even less inclined to step back now. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
He laughed and let her go. “Where shall we go for dinner?”
“There’s a new place that’s getting a lot of buzz around town. Actually, it’s not new, but it’s been refurbished and is under new management. I hear the food is fantastic.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go.” He looked longingly down the hallway to her bedroom. “Unless you want to …”
Oh, I want to. You already know me well enough to get that. Was our first meeting really less then seventy-two hours ago? It seems I’ve known you much longer, flyboy. “Dinner. A walk on the beach. Then we’ll see.”
~~~
“The Twisted Pelican, huh? Pretty weird name for a restaurant. You seem to have a thing about birds, Miranda, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you think we could get through a meal without talking about flying?”
“No. I fly. You used to fly. I’m here on Mimosa Key because of my charter flights. So I don’t think we’ll be able to avoid the subject. However,” he put his hands up in surrender, “I’m willing to give it a try. How long have you worked at Casa Blanca?”
“Almost a year. Before that I worked at the public library in Naples. I like this job better. I meet some very interesting people. Lacey Walker is the nicest boss on the planet, and she pays me twice what I was making at the library.”
“She runs a tight ship. All of her employees are trained well and do their jobs efficiently and, in most cases, almost invisibly.”
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