:-( So you’re marrying me for free charter service.
He replied instantly.
Why else?
Her smile dropped. He was being sarcastic. She got that, but this whole situation was messing with her. She didn’t want a boyfriend, or fiancé, or husband, but she still had a useless ego that took that hit hard.
What do I get out of the deal?
The glory that is me. Obviously.
She smiled, but Christ. She needed to knock some sense into the parts of her body that thought this was foreplay.
I assume you mean your bank account and your biceps.
You like my biceps?
Who wouldn’t?
Because, honestly, they were palpitation-worthy.
What about me? I mean, besides owning a plane.
Fishing for compliments was unseemly. She deserved a smart-ass response.
Your freckles.
And there it was. Maybe he’d forgotten how sensitive she was about the splatter of brown that covered her from head to toe. She could have handled a few on her nose—those girls were “cute”—but her body had gone all in, and the kids in school had teased her mercilessly about it. They had called her Leopard or Spot, and chased her with a marker threatening to “connect the dots.” She couldn’t count the number of times some well-meaning person had told her she had chocolate on her lip.
Jerk.
Okay, um…
She waited. Was it really that hard for him to think of something nice to say?
Another message appeared on her phone’s screen.
Your eyes. They’re like polished emeralds lit with fire.
Her heart kicked. Good God, now he was a poet. But he was toying with her. Wasn’t he? It was the only option she could handle.
Bravo. You can rake muck with the best of them.
The three dots appeared and then stopped several times.
Ten minutes passed.
Finally, he replied.
Sorry, gotta go. I’ll call later.
Her body drooped. How could she miss him already? She tapped the thumbs-up response and stuck her phone in her pocket.
Maybe she and Kurt couldn’t be friends after they rescued Rose. She might too easily come to rely on his presence in her life again, and that was a risk she couldn’t take.
CHAPTER 5
KURT HAD ONCE loved flying. Since the crash, it had featured near the top of his list of activities to avoid, alongside drinking too much tequila and watching fishing on television.
He distracted himself on the flight from DC to Barbados by reviewing his notes on everything he and Caitlyn had covered in the two weeks since her unexpected visit had turned his life on its ear.
After crafting the story of how they’d met and coming up with a few other get-togethers in the farce of their long-distance love affair, they had—thank you, Jesus—moved on to safer topics. How she’d named her dog after the beach near where she’d found him. Her day-to-day life as a pilot. How much they both enjoyed being their own boss. The routine of Kurt’s life running Steele, which gave him a sense of purpose and let him reclaim the brotherhood he’d had as a PJ.
Now, as the plane started its descent into Grantley Adams, he forced himself to breathe deeply on approach, and watched out the window so he could anticipate touchdown. The plane hit hard and bounced once, and he practically tore the armrests from the seat, but they made it.
Thank God the newlyweds next to him had slept for the entire flight and left him alone. There was nothing worse than having a neighboring passenger comment on his white-knuckle approach to flying.
How ironic that Caitlyn was a pilot. From the outside they seemed incompatible.
But he’d never thought so. Twelve years ago, he’d thought she was perfect for him. Smart, tough, gorgeous. He’d never met anyone like her.
But it had been the height of idiocy to expect a kiss to become something more, especially when he was poised to enter nearly two years of training—assuming he didn’t wash out of Indoc, which eighty percent of guys did—followed by a high ops tempo of deployments for the next fifteen-or-so years. What kind of woman in her right mind would sign up for a relationship with a man who would never be home?
If she’d just said that, he might still be fantasizing about her, but he wouldn’t have hated himself for it. It was the betrayal that had gutted him. But then, they hadn’t made any promises. He’d merely made assumptions, formed expectations. He should have known better.
In his teen years, after one of many fights with his sister, Kurt’s mom had told them, “Our anger isn’t always as righteous as we think it is. We get mad when people—or life’s events—don’t meet our expectations. That doesn’t necessarily mean they did something wrong or bad. It’s just not what you wanted. And often, you end up hurting yourself more than them in the long run.” He hadn’t fully understood at the time. Only after she was gone did he realize how wise she’d been.
While catching up during the last two weeks, he and Caitlyn had fallen back into their easy friendship, and just like before, he wanted more. Part of him recoiled at the idea, but did it really make sense to blame her for something that happened so long ago? They’d been kids. He didn’t know why she’d kissed him and then hooked up with another man while he was gone, but it had been Kurt’s fault for turning a single—admittedly hot—kiss into a promise of some kind. One he’d never asked for and she hadn’t given.
Trusting her again wouldn’t come easy, but dammit, he liked the woman she was now as much—maybe more than—the woman she’d been at twenty-two. And she seemed to like him too. Sure, he might be misreading her again. This trip was his chance to find out. Worst case, he was back where he started, but at least he would have tried. He could leave Barbados without regrets and move on.
In the back of his mind, without fully realizing it, he’d been using her as the gold standard for every woman he met. It wasn’t fair to them or to him, because no one could ever be her. Even Caitlyn in the flesh wasn’t the ideal of a woman that he had fashioned around her in his mind. But she was close enough to screw with him. And in many ways, better than some fantasy version.
He had two days with Caitlyn to show her how good they could be together, and he planned to make the most of them.
He shuffled off the plane and carefully navigated the roll-up stairs to the tarmac behind the other passengers, his shirt already stuck to his back with sweat. Customs and immigration awaited, but at least he wouldn’t suffer scrutiny from security again. Flying as an amputee wasn’t exactly a picnic these days.
Twenty minutes later, he found Caitlyn near the baggage claim area wearing a white tank top and tan shorts that showed off her long, athletic legs and a riot of dark freckles on pale skin.
He longed to connect all the dots. With his tongue.
She met him halfway with a solid hug that brought their bodies in contact from shoulders to hips. He held on tight as he imagined a man might who hadn’t seen his fiancée for weeks. The way he’d wanted to hold her for years. She was lean but soft in his arms, and something in him eased as he held her. Maybe it was her fresh, outdoorsy scent or her smooth skin. Whatever it was, embracing her was “right” in a way it could never be with another woman. If he hadn’t been sure she was worth a second chance before, he was now.
She pulled away to give him a quick cinnamon-gum flavored kiss on the lips that brought back a flood of memories, and then smiled. “I missed you.”
So the show starts now.
His insides went haywire. “Me too, hon.” He smoothed back a loose strand of her hair, prolonging contact. “You look great.”
Her cheeks flushed. She gave him another too-short kiss and grabbed his hand.
He ignored the stares and surreptitious looks as they moved through the crowd toward the exit. Six years in, he was used to it. When he could first walk on his prosthetic legs, he’d worn pants everywhere. Now he didn’t give a shit. He’d rather be comfortable than worry about mak
ing others comfortable with his appearance. In fact, outside of work, he often wore shorts well into winter.
Within ten minutes, they sat in her old Land Rover motoring down the left side of the road past grass and fields of some crop, palm trees, and lush stands of trees that rivaled anything in Virginia. They were flanked by green jungle on the hills to their left, and gorgeous blue ocean out the driver’s side window. “I can see the appeal, but is it warm and humid all year long?” he asked.
“I seem to recall you thinking this would be the perfect weather once upon a time.”
“Yeah, well, I run hot now.”
She gave him an uncertain look, maybe trying to decide if he was messing with her. “I don’t think anybody’s bugged my car,” she said. “We can relax in here.”
“That wasn’t an innuendo.” But it could’ve been. God knew just the sight of her raised his temperature. “Amputees have less surface area to release heat, and walking on prosthetic legs takes far more energy than walking on my own legs did.” On the plus side, winter in DC no longer sucked.
“Oh.” She frowned slightly, and her eyes scanned from the road to her mirrors, and back again.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She tucked a long piece of hair that had fallen from her braid behind one ear. “Just checking for a tail.”
“You think you’re being followed?” He glanced in the side mirror.
She adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. One of the men I helped rescue last month was found beaten and left for dead last night in Vieux Fort. On St. Lucia. Police are calling it a mugging gone wrong, but if he was tortured for information—”
“He might have described you.”
“He might. I’m probably just being paranoid about that one, but Glenn has been increasingly aggressive the last couple of weeks. At this point, I wouldn’t put anything past him.” Her fake engagement ring caught the sunlight and sent tiny white sparkles across the interior of the car.
“This guy’s starting to sound more like a stalker.” Why hadn’t she mentioned any of this on the phone?
“I’m honestly not sure. I take Rockley with me when I fly, so he’s not home to guard my house when I’m away. There have been a couple of times lately when I thought maybe someone had been inside, but I couldn’t find anything definitive. No signs of a break-in, nothing taken or obviously moved.”
“Jesus, Cait. Have you thought about installing cameras or security? Or checking for bugs?”
“This guy I know, a former Navy SEAL who teaches dive classes here, came and checked for bugs and installed a nanny cam. He didn’t find anything.”
A guy she knows. A former Navy SEAL. “Why didn’t you ask the SEAL to pose as your fiancé?” He couldn’t keep the barb out of his voice.
She glanced at him. “It’s not like that. I don’t know him very well. We have overlapping clients sometimes is all. Besides,” she licked her lips, “I don’t hunt where I live.”
Kurt scowled and watched the jungle pass by out his window. He had no right, but he didn’t like to think about her “hunting” at all.
Twenty minutes later she parked in front of a small yellow house with a green roof and shutters and a short, white picket fence around the front yard. They stepped out into the warm sun. “It’s small, but I love it. The beach is about a quarter-mile that way, and I’m pretty close to the airport. The perfect setup.”
“You really did it,” he said, unable to keep some of the awe out of his voice.
She met him at the back of the SUV. “What’s that?”
“Your dream.” He removed his duffel bag and followed her through a small gate to the front door, which was covered in louvers. Muffled barking came from inside the house. “Becoming a pilot, starting your own charter business in the Caribbean, having a house near the ocean.” She had managed it all.
Not that he would complain about his own circumstances. He’d lived his dream of being a PJ for four years. That was more than most people ever got. And life was still good.
She unlocked the door and looked over her shoulder with a smile. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
About fifty pounds of scruffy black dog quivered just beyond the threshold, eyeing Kurt warily even as his tail wagged with enthusiasm.
“This is Rockley,” Caitlyn said. “Ro, this is Kurt. He’s a friend.”
Rockley barked once and then approached Kurt tentatively, sniffing the hand he held out.
“Hey, buddy,” Kurt said. “Do you smell Max?”
“He doesn’t always like white men, but he seems to think you’re okay.”
Kurt petted the dog’s head and scratched behind his ears. “We’re not all bastards.” What kind of sicko would beat a dog? “He looks happy and healthy now. You’ve obviously been good for him.”
“He’s been good for me.” She smiled. “He’s easy to love.”
“I’m sure.” Kurt refused to be jealous of a dog.
He straightened, an elephant in a dollhouse in the low-ceilinged house that had only one exit. Despite its size and lack of egress options, the living room to his left was inviting, with a love seat and chair upholstered in light brown and the color of shallow water on the walls. Several small paintings of island scenes adorned the spaces between jalousie windows. A window air conditioner pumped out welcome cool air.
“This is nice,” he said. “Like a vacation getaway.”
She looked around with a satisfied expression. “Thanks. These don’t come up for sale very often. I got lucky.” Waving toward the rear, left corner of the house, she said, “Kitchen, obviously. The bathroom is through that door.” She pointed to a narrow doorway across from the kitchen.
Her place was definitely not disabled friendly, but then most homes weren’t.
The kitchen overlooked the side yard where a riot of pink and yellow blooms reached for the window. Beyond her small garden were other colorful little homes and the occasional palm tree swaying in the breeze. He could see the appeal.
“You can put your bag in here,” Caitlyn said as Rockley followed them through into a room to the right that was just big enough to fit a queen bed and a dresser. A silky quilt in tones of blue and green contrasted with the pale orange walls that gave the room a vibrant energy.
“Sorry, it’s not puce.”
He laughed. A welcome release. “I wouldn’t know it if I saw it.”
“Shocker,” she said with raised eyebrows, her eyes glinting with mischief. “So, feel free to take a nap or whatever. If you need a snack, help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” She opened the top dresser drawer. “I cleared this one out for you.” Turning, she gestured to a doorway covered by a curtain embroidered in large flowers. “There are a few empty hangers in the closet.”
“Thanks.” One bedroom. It wasn’t exactly like he could stay in a nearby hotel if they wanted anyone to believe they were romantically involved. But taking over one of her drawers and hanging his clothes in her closet was oddly intimate, and jarring.
“Is the sofa a pullout?” If not, it was far too small for either of them. Maybe she had an air mattress. He’d assumed she had the sleeping arrangements figured out, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to broach the topic.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “But I figure it’s too short for you, so you can have my bed while you’re here.”
Holy hell. Sleeping in Caitlyn’s bed had once been the stuff of his fantasies. With her in it, of course. Could he turn the dream into a reality, with her right next to him, under him, over him? Hell, any way she wanted him.
If not, for the next few days, he’d be driving himself a little bit mad playing house with her, holding and kissing her, and knowing the entire time it was all a lie.
Glenn Lambert sat on the beach behind his family’s plantation house on St. Isidore, his latest arm candy on a lounger next to him.
Not the woman he really wanted. She didn’t have dark red hair, or masses of freckles, o
r that compelling cloak of self-assurance that Caitlyn carried. Part of him simply craved a taste of that feeling, part of him wanted to knock her down a peg.
She thought she was too good for him?
Even more perplexing was that she’d chosen a muscle-bound invalid over him. Why would a woman who could have a wealthy, powerful, handsome man like Glenn want to be with a guy like that? Not that she and Steele were together much, despite their recent engagement.
Maybe that was part of his appeal.
Glenn had begun to suspect that she’d made up the fiancé until he did some digging. The man’s job in security made him uncomfortable, but Steele wasn’t law enforcement, and everything checked out as legit. Plus, the man was an amputee, so how much of a threat could he be?
Still, Glenn had sent Lawrence to follow them. If there was even the slightest chance that she was lying about this guy, he wanted to know about it. There was too much at stake to let her get close to the family if she couldn’t be trusted. He couldn’t help feeling that she was a threat. One he wanted to fuck, but still…
Rumor had it that the pilot who had been flying for The Underground recently was a white woman. There were several female pilots in the islands, and those were just the ones who worked as such. There could be any number of amateurs willing to help The Underground. But Caitlyn was the only outsider close enough to Glenn’s family to learn more about Island Profiles Incorporated—IPI—the enterprise his father had started decades ago. As much as he didn’t want to believe she would betray them, he hadn’t been able to rule her out.
“Glenn, we have to clear the beach so the crew can set up,” Arielle called from behind him. “And lunch is ready.”
“I’ll be up to the house in a minute.” He waved off his sister and stood. “Elena?” The curvy blonde removed her shades and smiled at him. “You ready?” he asked.
She rose gracefully from the chair, the tiny white bikini she wore accentuating her curves and leaving little to the imagination. “Always.”
His dad would not approve, which made her perfect. Glenn had very few ways to assert his independence from his father without being disowned. But that would change soon enough. Things hadn’t been going to plan, but Glenn had a new scheme in the works.
Running Blind Page 5
