Flying High

by Barbara Dunlop

  Erin blinked blankly.

  Julie grinned and rocked her head from side to side. “You massage him next time.”

  “I don’t think there’ll be a next time.”

  “I’m speaking metaphorically. Seduce him right back.”

  “You don’t think that’s a little—”

  “Forward? Come on. This is the twenty-first century. Women are allowed to have sex drives.”

  “I was going to say risky. What if he really doesn’t want me?”

  Julie held up her glass and peered at Erin. “Erin, you do this right, he’ll want you bad before he even knows what hit him.”

  STRIKER LAY on his back in the predawn darkness, watching as the glowing, green alarm clock numbers clicked over to six o’clock. What was he thinking, trying to seduce Erin like that?

  This wasn’t some cocktail party where she’d be expecting meaningless come-ons. This was her business trip. She’d hired him to help her, not to make callus, calculated advances.

  He tipped his head back on the pillow, throwing one arm across his eyes, cringing as he replayed his little seduction scene for the thousandth time. He’d smiled so sincerely, spoken so intimately, found one excuse after another to touch her, worked his way under her clothes…

  He cringed again. He couldn’t go around sleeping with every woman he found sexy.

  As soon as that thought was complete, his mind flicked to the past, where he’d done just that.

  He’d called them dates.

  His father had called them flings.

  And for the first time in his life, Striker wondered which one of them was right. As the chill of that realization washed through him, the telephone at his bedside rang sharply in his ear.

  He jolted upright, scrubbing one hand across his face, grabbing for the receiver. “Reeves here.”

  “Would you please explain to me what in the hell you’re doing on Blue Earth Island?”

  “Derek?”

  “Yes. Derek. Remember me? Your big brother? The guy who’s back here cleaning up your mess.”

  Striker gave his head a shake, trying to switch gears. “What mess?”

  “You didn’t think Mom would be upset after that little scene?”

  Striker’s mind slowly started to fire on all four cylinders. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Our little brother’s a private eye, remember? You can run, but you can’t hide.”

  “I didn’t run or hide. I flew a charter.”

  “Well, Mom thinks you’re quitting.”

  “I’m not quitting.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Is that what you wanted to know?”

  “What I want to know is why you would bait him like that.” There was no question that Derek was referring to their father.

  “I’m not baiting anyone,” said Striker.

  There was the sound of running water behind Derek’s voice. “One-night stands make him crazy.”

  “It was a date, not a one-night stand.” Was it Striker’s imagination, or did that answer sound a little too defensive?

  Derek made a sharp sound of disbelief deep in his throat.

  Striker regrouped. “When’s the last time you got the entire family’s permission to go out on a date?”

  Whether Striker was feeling guilty or not, his brother was way out of line. Striker’s personal life was none of Derek’s or their father’s business. Derek might be the golden child and the heir apparent, but that didn’t give him the right to judge Striker.

  Derek’s voice turned smooth and confident. “On dates you generally know the woman’s last name,” he said. “And the first one traditionally ends with a kiss, it doesn’t start in a hotel room.”

  “You’re getting moralistic on me?”

  Derek was no choirboy.

  “I’ve sat back up till now,” he said. “Because, quite frankly, I thought you’d grow out of it.”

  Grow out of it? “When did you become Dad’s clone?”

  Acoffeemaker gurgled and dishes clattered in the background. “Look around you, Striker,” said Derek. “Are you proud of your life?”

  Striker wasn’t about to answer that question. He might not be proud at this exact moment. But that didn’t mean he needed his brother riding his ass.

  “I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” he said.

  “Some of them didn’t even speak English,” said Derek.

  Striker’s shoulders stiffened. “I think you’d better back off now.”

  “And I think you’d better take a long, hard look at where you’re going.”

  He did, did he? Well, Striker didn’t think so. Instead of taking a long, hard look at his life, he took a long, hard look at the telephone receiver. Then he firmly hung it up.

  He raked his hands through his hair.

  The desire to quit Reeves-DuCarter and put some distance between himself and his family loomed in his mind again.

  He didn’t see how he had any choice.

  It was bad enough fighting his father, but if he had to take on Derek, too…

  He squeezed his eyes shut as the soul-searching from his long night settled into place.

  Trouble was, even if he did quit his job and disowned his family, he’d still have to work through his feelings for Erin. He’d still have to battle this nagging guilt about all those other women. Whether Derek was around to judge him or not, he’d still have to change something.

  He swore out loud.

  He picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Hello?” Derek answered.

  “I’m sorry,” said Striker.

  There was a moment of shocked silence. “You’re what?”

  Clearly Derek was expecting the usual aftermath to one of their arguments. A couple of days of silence followed by the pretense that it had never happened.

  “You heard me,” said Striker. He wasn’t about to repeat himself.

  Derek didn’t say a word—probably too stunned.

  Striker stood up and paced across the room, phone to his ear. “It’s not like they were quivering virgins, you know.”

  “You disillusion me.”

  Striker pressed the end of his fist against the cool windowpane. “They were old enough to make their own decisions. They knew the score. Most of them propositioned me.”

  Okay, so that was after they learned about the jet or after they took a ride in the Mustang. Striker felt his stomach tense up. He saw Erin’s face again, so open, so trusting, so incredibly gorgeous. And what had he done with that?

  “Not that I want to look a gift horse in the mouth, bro,” said Derek. “But are you okay?”

  “No,” Striker answered honestly.

  “What’s going on?”

  What was going on? A thousand things were rocking Striker’s world. He had no idea where to start. “Last night,” he said. “I started wondering what would happen if we had a sister.”

  Derek’s reaction was slow and searching. “Asister?”

  Striker had also wondered if he should get a girlfriend. Maybe that was his problem.

  Nothing too serious. He didn’t want somebody making unreasonable demands on his time. His job still required quite a bit of freedom and flexibility.

  But it might be nice to get to know a woman on the inside as well as the outside—get to know her opinions and views. They could talk about world events, take long walks on the beach, curl up in front of his fireplace and sip wine together.

  Striker suddenly realized the woman in his vision was Erin, and swore silently.

  “Striker?” prompted Derek.

  “Huh?”

  “A sister?”

  “Yeah.” He pushed Erin to the back of his mind and tapped his hand against the window. “Think about it for a minute. If we had a sister and some guy did to her what I’ve done to dozens of women, wouldn’t we hunt him down and kill him?”

  “I suppose that all depends on what you did to those women. Should we be talking to a lawyer about thi
s?”

  Striker dropped his hand by his side, sighing out loud in exasperation. He was trying to have a serious conversation here. “No. We shouldn’t be talking to a lawyer.”

  “Had to ask. I mean you are a director of Reeves-DuCarter.”

  Trust Derek to keep the corporate interest at heart.

  “I’m not talking about breaking the law. I’m talking about having been so cavalier about sex,” said Striker.

  “You’re admitting that you’re cavalier about sex?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “No reason,” muttered Striker.

  “What happened?”

  Striker had no intention of going into specifics. “I’ve just been—”

  “Is it a woman?”

  “It’s lots of women.”

  “No dice, little brother. What’s her name?”

  “There is no her.”

  Derek scoffed. “You think I’m stupid?”

  “Erin. Okay. It’s Erin.”

  The tone of Derek’s voice changed completely. “Ahh.”

  “No, not ahh. See, I knew you’d think that. I’ve never even slept with her.”

  “Really?”

  “We just met.” As soon as the words were out, Striker realized how ridiculous they sounded coming from him, in that tone, in the middle of this conversation.

  “But you’re attracted to her,” Derek guessed.

  “Any guy would be attracted to her. She’s gorgeous.”

  “Somebody finally say no to you?” Derek sounded disgustingly elated.

  Striker squinted at the town of Pelican Cove, still and silent in the early morning. He took a deep breath. “Erin didn’t say no.”

  “But I thought you—”

  “I said no.”

  “You…”

  “Surprised?”

  “I’m checking the basement for pods.”

  “Cute.”

  “Hey, it’s like you’re Striker, only with morals.”

  “And ethics.”

  There was another clatter of dishes in the background. “You think you’ll be able to hold out?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If this Erin likes you, and you’re attracted to her, and you don’t want to sleep with her, you’d better get away from her. I mean, really, Striker, you know what you’re like.”

  Yeah. Striker knew what he was like. “I can’t leave.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve got this dinner thing with her and her friend Julie and Allan Baldwin tonight.”

  “You’re going to date her? Don’t you think that’s taking a big—”

  “It’s not a date. It’s just dinner. They’re from a jewelry company and they want Allan’s diamonds, but Allan doesn’t know that yet, and I’m—”

  “You’re setting Allan up?”

  “No. I’m not setting Allan up. They’re legit.”

  “Then at least stay away from her until the dinner.”

  “We’re staying in the same beach house.”

  “I’m trying to help you reform here. But you don’t make this easy, bro.”

  “I know.” Easy was the last word Striker would use in this situation.

  “So, what’s she like?” asked Derek.

  Striker thought about that one. Bossy? No, he didn’t want to tell Derek that. Sexy? That went without saying. Determined? Organized? Funny? Vulnerable?

  “Striker?”

  “She’s…complicated.”

  “Oh, well, that clarifies things for me.” A blender roared and Derek raised his voice. “You know, I’m thinking you need to talk to Tyler.”

  “Tyler?” Striker couldn’t imagine what his younger brother could add. “Why?”

  “Because Tyler’s already dealt with a complicated woman.”

  “Who?”

  “Jenna.”

  Striker staggered back at the mention of his brother’s new wife. “Don’t be absurd.”

  He’d barely even met Erin. She was a problem, sure. But she wasn’t that kind of problem.

  The blender went silent. “Think about it, Striker. You could be falling for—”

  “There’s nothing to think about. Thanks so much for your advice, Derek. Maybe next time I will call Tyler.”

  Derek chuckled as Striker hung up the phone.

  Falling for Erin.

  Huh.

  He was simply reordering his life. Nothing wrong with that. Maybe she did have a little bit to do with his shifting priorities. But not in any fundamental way.

  He liked her, sure. He respected her, yeah. But his biggest problem was the physical attraction. Nothing new in that. He was physically attracted to women all the time.

  Still, it was probably prudent to stay away for a while. He yanked open one of the bags from the Garment Barn and pulled out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. No sense wallowing in temptation.

  He’d take a jog down the beach and find something to occupy himself for the next couple or maybe twelve hours.

  8

  WHEN ERIN WOKE up, her headache was back. It could have been her despondency over Striker’s rejection. Or, she had to admit, it might have been the brandy.

  There was a light knock on her bedroom door.

  She pulled the covers up over her chest and struggled into a sitting position in case it was Striker. She combed her fingers through her tangled hair and ran her tongue around the inside of her sticky mouth. She sure hoped it wasn’t Striker.

  “Yes?” she called

  “It’s Julie,” Julie’s voice floated through the door.

  “You alone?”

  “Yeah. And I’ve got coffee.”

  “Come in. Please.” Erin crossed her legs under the covers, trying to rub the shaft of pain out of her temples.

  Julie pushed open the door, transferred one of the cups of coffee into the other hand, then closed the door with her hip.

  The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee hit Erin like a wall of sensation and suddenly the pain didn’t seem quite so bad.

  “Will you marry me?” she asked as Julie handed her the hot cup.

  “You bet.” Julie sat down on the end of the bed, twisting so that one leg was folded beneath her and she could face Erin. “Well, only if Allan says no.”

  Erin took a grateful sip, feeling better already. “You mean I can’t beat out a hunky guy who owns a diamond mine?”

  “Afraid not.” Julie took a sip of her own coffee. “How’re you holding up?”

  Erin shrugged. “My ego’s a little flattened, and I’m pretty sure I have a hangover, but it’s a brand-new day.” She winced at her own forced cheer.

  “Good. Glad to hear you’ve got lots of energy for phase one.”

  Erin sighed as the caffeine hit her bloodstream. “Phase one of what?”

  “You know, the part where you knock Striker’s socks off…along with anything else he might be wearing at the time.”

  “Did I agree to this?”

  Julie nodded. “Sure did. Along about 3:00 a.m.”

  “I must have been drunk.”

  “Nope. You were thinking perfectly clearly.”

  “Then why can’t I remember?”

  “Denial.”

  “Then how come I can remember the humiliating part?”

  Julie shook her head. “I don’t know what went wrong there. But he wants you. I can guarantee it. And you want him. And you’re both consenting adults.”

  “You mean one of us is a consenting adult.”

  “He’ll weaken. We’ll weaken him.”

  Erin wasn’t so sure she wanted to put her ego out there again. Sure, Striker was a gorgeous, sexy guy, but if he didn’t want her, he didn’t want her. “Explain to me why I should even try?”

  Julie gave her a secretive smile. “Because it’ll be totally worth it.”

  Erin grinned in return. “You are so bad.”

  “That’s why you love me. I talk you into doing the things you really want to do anyway.”


  Erin paused to run that statement around in her brain.

  Julie leaned forward, tapping herself on the chest. “I’m your wayward alter ego.” Then she sat back. “Hey, maybe you’re schizophrenic and I don’t even exist.”

  “Then who made the coffee?”

  “See. That’s why you’re the rational one. Now. Back to what we do to get Striker’s attention. I know you can do sexy.”

  Erin glanced at the gray lingerie store package she’d dropped into one of the chairs. She hadn’t had the guts to open it yet, but now she was curious. What did Striker think was sexy?

  She set her coffee cup down on the bedside table, slipped out from under the covers and crossed the room.

  “What’s that?” asked Julie, turning to watch her progress.

  Erin shook her head. “I don’t know. Striker gave it to me.”

  “When?”

  “When we went clothes shopping. He came up with some crazy idea that if I was dressing him, it was only fair that he dress me.”

  “And you agreed to that?” Julie sounded surprised.

  “It wasn’t like I had a lot of choice. You saw how he looked when we first got here. Besides, I had no intention of living up to my end of the deal.”

  “You lied to him to get him to wear a suit?”

  “That’s right.”

  Julie stood up. “Go, Erin. Let’s see it.”

  Erin opened the bag and pulled out some silky cloth wrapped in mauve tissue paper. There was a little gold seal holding the tissue paper closed.

  “Classy,” said Julie.

  “Don’t be too hasty. Striker picked it out himself.” Erin ripped open the seal.

  Something made of apricot satin slithered onto the table. Julie picked up a camisole top. It had spaghetti straps and was trimmed with flat, apricot lace at the neck and hemline.

  Erin picked up the matching shorts. They were whisper thin, with a soft elastic waist and matching lace insets at the outsides of the thighs.

  “Gorgeous,” Julie breathed.

  Erin was stunned. The outfit was sexy, sure. But it was also classically beautiful. No whalebone stays, or peekaboo nipples or black laced garters.

  How had Striker come up with something like this?

  “Let him get a gander at you in this,” said Julie. “And you’re halfway home.”

  “I couldn’t,” said Erin. Though she was past the point of denying she wanted to seduce Striker. Maybe Julie was her wayward alter ego.