She had never left Nika overnight before. When she and Vaughn dropped Danika off at Sophie’s house and swapped the car seat, Brie nearly cried. She felt guilty, because she was excited to be going to Dallas with Vaughn.
Nika, on the other hand, had barely said goodbye to her mother. She was already playing with the pile of toys Sophie had somehow procured in an incredibly short time.
Now, Brie was sitting in the front of a terrifyingly small plane while her daughter’s father went calmly through a preflight checklist. “I had no idea we weren’t flying commercial,” she said.
His cocky sideways grin amused her. “I might have omitted that info, because I wasn’t sure you would come if you knew. But I promise, you can trust me. I’ve logged hundreds of hours of flight time. And besides, once we’re airborne, you’ll see how wonderful it is to chase the clouds.”
He sounded almost poetic. If she hadn’t been anxious and uncertain about her decision to join him, she might have appreciated his promises more. As it was, her hands were clenched on the armrests and her teeth had chewed a raw place on her bottom lip.
Though takeoff left her stomach on the ground, Vaughn was right. In this small plane, it felt as if the two of them were dancing across the sky. They didn’t talk to each other, but the silence felt comfortable and natural. It was enough to watch Vaughn’s big, masculine hands on the controls and to take in the view outside.
The flight was uneventful until they were thirty minutes outside Dallas. Suddenly, Vaughn cursed, his jaw tight.
“What’s wrong?” Brie cried.
“I’m not sure,” he said, flipping dials and switches. “The fuel indicator has gone all wonky, and my oil pressure is dropping. We may have to make an emergency landing.”
The way he said those words was exactly the tone of voice a man would use to say I may have to pull off the road and get some gas.
Brie’s brain spun wildly, trying to process the words. Even she could tell that their airspeed was dropping. “Can we make it to the airport?”
“Doubtful.” He picked up the radio and called the tower. A flash of incomprehensible conversation left her more worried, not less. When the radio went silent, Vaughn reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’ve done this in a simulator.”
Her eyes rounded. “Done what?”
“Put a plane down in a field. If my calculations are right, we’ll be just short of the runway. But the surrounding acreage is flat. We should be fine.”
Every disaster movie she had ever seen flashed through her brain. The fire engines and rescue squad vehicles tearing down the runways, sirens blaring. The escape slide being deployed. But this tin can they were in barely even had a door, much less an escape plan—or at least, one she could visualize.
Brie’s prayer life took a real turn. “Tell me Nika is not going to be an orphan,” she begged.
“Not if I can help it.” The words were terse. This time he didn’t look at her. He was too busy for that.
The next ten minutes unfolded with both agonizing slowness and terrifying speed. He reached in a cabinet beside him and pulled out a folded blanket. “Put your face in this. All the way down to your knees. Hands over your head.”
When she hesitated, he shouted at her, “Now.”
The ground rushed up at them. There was nothing in sight but a stubbly cornfield.
Vaughn cursed and shouted a Mayday call into the radio.
Then they crashed. Hard.
Intellectually, she understood that Vaughn had deployed the landing gear. But without a smooth runway, it felt as if they were catapulting nose over tail.
The world spun dizzily, filled with the noise of screeching metal. The impact went on and on. Like a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake up.
At last, it stopped. Everything stopped. Her heart was beating so hard, she thought she might throw up.
Gingerly, she lifted her head and straightened. The sirens she had anticipated wailed in the distance.
“Vaughn?” She reached for his hand, looking over toward him, and cried out. He had a gash on his forehead, and his face was dead white, his eyes glassy with shock.
“We’re okay,” he said automatically.
She squeezed his fingers. “Yes, we are. Hold on. Help is coming.”
After that, time blurred, and the world went crazy.
Rescue personnel swarmed the plane, separating Vaughn and Brie in their haste to get them away from the smoldering wreckage. One set of EMTs worked on each of them in separate vehicles.
Brie waved away their concern with mounting frustration. “I’m fine. Seriously. Go see about Mr. Blackwood.”
At last, they released her. She clambered out of the vehicle and ran across the rough ground to where Vaughn was still being evaluated. He smiled when he saw her, but the flash of white teeth lacked its usual wattage.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his gaze sliding over her from head to toe.
“I’m fine. What are they saying about you?”
He shrugged. “A mild concussion. Couple of stitches. They don’t want me to drive until tomorrow.”
“So no meeting this afternoon?”
“It’s important,” he said. “I have to go. We’ll grab a room near the club instead of staying at my place like I planned.”
“I want to take care of you,” she said.
He held out his hand. “Maybe we’ll take care of each other.”
Eleven
Vaughn lived in Fort Worth, but he was serving a term as vice president of the Dallas branch of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. The clubhouse was where the big meeting and gala were to be held tonight. The two cities were half an hour apart, give or take. Under the circumstances, staying in the area made more sense than adding extra driving by going to Forth Worth just to come right back.
Brie nodded. “Sounds good.” As the medics finished up their assessments, she watched Vaughn. His posture was careful, as if he was trying not to jostle anything that might give him pain. His head was surely the worst of his injuries.
“Does he need to go to the hospital?” Brie ignored Vaughn’s quick frown. Sometimes men could be stupid in these situations.
The male EMT gave her a reassuring grin. “It wouldn’t hurt, but we couldn’t get him to agree. Just be on the lookout for excessive drowsiness or any noticeable change. Garbled speech, sudden clumsiness. You know what I mean.”
“Can he have painkillers?”
“As long as he’s not driving, he could get his primary care physician to call something in.”
Vaughn hopped down from the truck and took Brie by the arm. “Come on, Clara Barton. I told you. I’m fine.” He thanked the team who had been working on him and then pulled out his phone. “I’m calling the car service I use. They’ll pick us up at the terminal.”
Brie was wearing heels. The ground was uneven. She wasn’t dressed for hiking. “How do we get to the terminal?” she asked.
The same EMT waved a hand. “If you don’t mind perching in the back, you can ride with us.”
Fortunately, the firemen had determined the plane fuselage was stable, so they were able to retrieve Vaughn’s and Brie’s bags from the plane. Two carry-ons, two small suitcases.
The trip to the airport was quick. Brie and Vaughn sat side by side on the gurney, holding on to the metal edges as the vehicle bounced and lurched through the field. Behind them, the little plane lay crumpled and forlorn.
“What happens now?” she asked. “I’m assuming we don’t simply walk away.”
Vaughn shook his head and then cursed quietly when the motion clearly caused him pain. “We’ll have to deal with the FAA, but I don’t think it will take long. I have good insurance. They’ll file reports.” He paused and grimaced. “And we’ll have to book return tickets for tomorrow on a commercial flight.”
“I can deal w
ith booking the return tickets while you’re tied up,” she said. Her heart still raced in her chest. They had come far too close to dying. A miscalculation on Vaughn’s part, no matter how small, could have spelled disaster.
She leaned her cheek against his shoulder. Now that the adrenaline was fading, she felt weak and shaky.
He curled an arm around her waist, his expression sober. “I’m sorry, Brie. I never meant to put you in harm’s way. I’ve flown thousands of miles in my own plane. But this was a rental. Never again. I should have known better than to trust someone else to maintain things properly.”
His words unsettled her. Not the part about the plane—nothing could be done about that. But the other part.
Vaughn had always kept his own counsel, gone his own way. He kept people at arm’s length, preferring to handle everything himself rather than count on anyone else. Even when he and Brielle had been sleeping together, he had given her his body, but not his heart and soul.
Despite her relative youth and inexperience at the time, she had recognized the difference.
Was he any better now at opening up? Did discovering he was a father do anything to loosen the tight control he kept over his emotions? She hadn’t seen much evidence of a changed man.
Just minutes ago in the midst of a crisis, a near-fatal accident, Vaughn had kept his cool under pressure. If he had been scared, he hadn’t shown it. While Brie had been sick with terror, Vaughn had simply done what had to be done.
That kind of mental focus in a critical situation was a great quality for a man to have while trying to save your life. He was the guy you counted on in an emergency. But she wanted more from him than superhero behavior. Maybe it was unfair, but she needed to know he could be vulnerable. Otherwise, he had no need for her at all other than sex. And a man could get that almost anywhere.
* * *
In the end, the FAA report was more than Vaughn had counted on. It was an hour before he and Brie were able to leave the airport. Despite his protestations to the contrary, Vaughn was not okay. After purchasing tickets—on Vaughn’s credit card—to get them home tomorrow afternoon, she used the phone number he gave her to contact the transportation service he had summoned. The hired car had been waiting outside all this time.
After touching base with the driver, she scoped out the Cattleman’s Club’s location and booked rooms at a nearby hotel, an upscale chain that would be comfortable and quiet, two things she and Vaughn both needed after their traumatic morning.
When they exited the airport at last, Vaughn was gray faced and exhausted. Brie took over quietly, ushering him into the car and speaking to the driver. She did the same thing at the hotel during check-in, dealing with the desk clerk and shielding Vaughn from annoying questions.
The bellman loaded their few bags onto a cart and escorted them upstairs. Vaughn extracted a $100 bill and thanked the young man. Then—when the door closed behind the jubilant kid—Vaughn shrugged out of his jacket and face-planted onto the mattress.
Brie shook her head in wry amusement. “At least take off your shoes,” she said. “And tell me when we need to leave later. I’m not going to let you sleep more than thirty minutes at a time because of the possible concussion.”
Vaughn lifted his head and glared. “I don’t need a nurse.”
“You need something,” she said, putting a bite in her retort. “You look like hell, and you’re getting mean. Either you cooperate with me, or I’ll pull the plug on this meeting tonight.”
Vaughn gaped. “You wouldn’t. You couldn’t.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Try me.”
To her utter astonishment, the man actually cooperated. Perhaps because he saw the sense in her words. Or more likely because he felt dreadful and arguing was too much of an effort.
He stood and stripped down to his shirt and knit boxers. Brie hadn’t been prepared for how the sight of him half-naked would affect her. His legs were long and muscular and lightly dusted with hair. Vaughn was a gorgeous man in any situation. But right now, with his reserve temporarily at bay, she saw him as more approachable than usual.
Though she wanted to join him in the bed, she also wanted to feel clean again. She probably smelled of cornfield dust and antiseptic. “I’m going to take a quick shower,” she said. “And wash my hair. Will you be okay?”
He had resumed his prone position. “Humph...” The guttural syllable was supposed to be an affirmative.
It bothered her to leave him, but surely the EMTs would have insisted on hospitalization if the head injury were dangerous enough that he couldn’t be left unsupervised, even for a minute. With one last worried glance at the man sprawled on top of the covers, she grabbed her luggage and made her way to the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror was a mistake. Her face was milky pale, highlighting every bruise and scrape. She resembled somebody who had wrestled with an alligator and lost. Even the scratches on the side of her neck were unfamiliar.
Twenty minutes later, she was drying her hair and feeling hunger pangs. Because of the accident, they had forgotten to eat lunch. She thought about donning a hotel robe, but she needed more armor than that. It was far too early to dress for the evening, and her original outfit was crumpled and dusty.
Fortunately, she had thrown a pair of black yoga pants and an oversize turquoise T-shirt in her bag. When she was dressed and decent, with her hair twisted up in a neat knot on the back of her head, she checked on Vaughn again.
He had rolled onto his back at some point and now lay staring at the ceiling. His head turned when she walked into the bedroom. “Will you get me some acetaminophen?” he asked gruffly.
“Of course.” Her heart clenched in sympathy. She knew that he hated asking for help. Instead of riffling through his things, she grabbed some tablets from her own toiletry case and brought him one of the complimentary water bottles from the mini fridge. “Do you feel like sitting up?”
Vaughn scowled. “Of course. It’s a tiny cut with two stitches. That’s all.”
“Don’t snap at me,” she said calmly, handing him the meds and then the water. “You’re the one determined to go out this evening. Couldn’t we just go back to Royal?”
He swallowed the medicine and wiped his mouth, then ran his hands through his hair. “No. Because Cal McCready won’t wait forever. I have a chance to get in on the ground floor of a land deal that could double or triple my business.”
“But you’re rich already. Why does it matter? There will be other deals, surely.”
“These drilling rights are up for grabs, and I want them. McCready has convinced some old guy to sell a huge tract of land for an incredible price.”
“McCready. I’ve heard that name. From you, I think. Didn’t you tell me a long time ago that McCready was a snake?”
“I probably did. And he is. But don’t worry. He won’t pull anything over on me. He wouldn’t dare. Sometimes business makes strange bedfellows.”
“I’m more concerned about the old guy than you. Are you sure McCready is on the up-and-up?”
“My head is killing me, Brie. I’m not really in the mood for a lesson in ethics from you.”
“Fine,” she said, her throat tight. “I’m going down to the lobby to buy a magazine.”
“Wait,” he muttered, reaching out to snag her wrist and bring it to his lips. He kissed the spot where her pulse thrummed visibly. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. Forgive me. This has been a hell of a day.”
She allowed him to pull her down onto the bed, but she perched on the edge of the mattress instead of pressing against him. Both of them were upright. His fingers still encircled her wrist. It would be so easy to fall back into the covers and let nature take its course. Nothing mattered outside this room. It would be just the two of them, naked and needy.
Instead, she kept her spine straight and her impulses under control. “How ab
out something to eat? Room service, not a restaurant.” She spoke calmly, but being near him made her breath catch in her throat and her pulse accelerate.
They were so close, she could see the tiny dark lines of forest green that outlined the brighter irises so much like his daughter’s sparkling emerald eyes.
“I could eat,” he said.
He made no move to release her. Instead, he put a hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. It started out as light and playful, maybe meant to punctuate his apology. But in seconds, he had her panting and weak with wanting him.
Common sense said this relationship was going nowhere. Why else had the two of them not slept together every night they’d had a chance? They still weren’t trusting each other enough to open up about what they really wanted.
Was he rethinking the faux engagement? He had never mentioned it after that first time. Brie told herself it was dumb to feel hurt, either for herself or for her daughter’s sake.
Vaughn was who he was. Maybe this quick trip was a chance for Brie to get him out of her system once and for all. When they returned to Royal, she would break off even this tentative connection. Tell him that she and Danika didn’t need him.
After all, no one believed Vaughn wanted to be a father. Least of all Brie.
All that aside, in this moment there was nowhere else she would rather be. He was big and broad and utterly male. Everything inside her yearned to get even closer.
Vaughn was the first one to pull back. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. “You’re all clean, and I’m a mess,” he said ruefully.
She gently touched the small bandage at the side of his forehead. “How does it feel?”
He rubbed a thumb over her bottom lip. “Sore. Manageable. I’ll be fine.” He hesitated. “I want you, Brie. More than anything. It makes me ill to think I might have hurt you, or worse.”
“But you didn’t,” she said quietly. Because she couldn’t help herself, she ran her fingers through his thick, springy brown hair. “Go grab a shower if you want to. I’ll have the food waiting when you get back. Steak? Chicken?”
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