Love by Design

by Christine Johnson

  Hunter echoed his grin. “I’d be a fool not to know who Dan Wagner is. Altitude, distance and speed records, not to mention the number of downed enemy planes over France. I don’t suppose you’d consider—”

  The office door burst open, drawing Hunter’s attention away from his question and toward a tall woman with the brightest hazel eyes Dan had ever seen.

  “Jack, I wondered if—?” The woman stopped midsentence when she noticed Hunter was not alone.

  Her flustered confusion sat so awkwardly that Dan suspected she was seldom at a loss for words. She obviously didn’t care about public opinion, because she wore men’s trousers, a flannel button-down shirt and a ragged mackinaw. Her cracked and scuffed men’s leather boots dripped muddy snow on the floor. Her cropped brown hair stuck out in all directions, as if she’d just yanked off a knit cap. She wasn’t at all the type of woman that usually attracted him, so the tug in his gut came as a big surprise.

  “I’m sorry.” She looked around the small room, pausing when she reached him. “I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.”

  Her cheeks, already pleasantly flushed from the cold, got even pinker. Dan was surprised to feel his pulse quicken with the hope that he was the cause of that blush.

  She squared her jaw and thrust a hand toward him. “You’re new in town. I’m Jen Fox.”

  He allowed a slight smile. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Fox.” He noted her frown. “Not much for formalities, eh? Well then, I’m Wagner. Daniel Wagner.” That was a test. Did she recognize Daring Dan by his full name or was she just another gal who swooned over aviators?

  She matched his smirk. “Pleased to meet you, Wagner.”

  He shook her hand. Her grip was as firm as that of a vigorous man. He flexed his fingers when she let go.

  She cocked her head to the side, as if assessing him. “Are you a new instructor at the school?”

  Hunter snorted and then pretended to cough.

  Dan grinned. This gal was definitely not an aviation devotee. She could use a little brushing up on the social graces and a decent wardrobe, but her directness was refreshing. “No, I’m not.”

  “Oh. You look like a flight instructor.”

  “I didn’t realize flight instructors had a certain look.”

  “Oh, yes.” Her head bobbed emphatically. “They’re confident, almost arrogant, as if they think the world revolves around them.”

  Hunter didn’t succeed in covering up his laugh this time.

  “Except Jack, of course,” she added hastily.

  Dan was surprised at the informality. Clearly the pair knew each other. Perhaps some relation of Hunter’s wife.

  Hunter chuckled at Miss Fox’s backtracking. “I’ll admit that there’s some truth to what you said. We are an overconfident lot.”

  Mollified, she turned back to Dan. “Then, Wagner, if you’re not an instructor, you must be a student.” Her hazel eyes twinkled, as if enjoying some unknown joke. “Sorry, but the flight school doesn’t open until March.”

  That sent Hunter into unbridled guffaws.

  Miss Fox drew back. “What did I say? Why else would anyone be here in January?”

  Since Hunter was laughing too hard to speak and Dan didn’t want to spoil the fun, Simmons ended up explaining, “Dan Wagner is interested in the cold-weather engine we’ve been testing.”

  Her eyes widened. “Dan Wagner? The Dan Wagner?” She clapped her hands to her cheeks. “I thought you looked familiar.”

  Dan groaned. From the impudent upstart, she’d turned into the dreaded ingenue. He sank back in his chair. “Afraid so.”

  Her cheeks glowed red, but apparently not from embarrassment. “You should teach stunts. Shouldn’t he, Jack? Everyone wants to learn them. The loop-de-loop, the death drop—”

  “No.” Dan cut her off. “I retired from stunt flying.”

  “Retired?” Her shock mirrored that of his former manager.

  The man had nearly wept when Dan delivered the news. Then he had pleaded, even offering to decrease the number of appearances or raise the fee they demanded from air-show sponsors, but Dan could not be swayed. As much as his manager had glossed over the accident by calling it a casualty of aviation, that single event had changed everything. His stunt flying days were over.

  “But you’re famous,” she exclaimed.

  “I’m alive,” he said dryly. Surely she’d read about the crash. The newspapers had seized the story and blown it into something even more horrific than it had actually been, if that was possible.

  The office door opened again, ushering in a lovely brunette, clearly with child. Must be Hunter’s wife. Though more conventionally dressed in a wool dress and pretty by anyone’s assessment, she didn’t have Jen Fox’s spunk.

  She smiled at her husband and then addressed Miss Fox, “Jen, let’s go to the classroom.”

  “The classroom?” Disappointment briefly flashed across Miss Fox’s face before being replaced by trembling hope. “Did I pass?”

  Mrs. Hunter smiled and pointed to the door. “To the classroom. We have to work out a schedule for flight training.”

  “I passed! I passed!” Her whoops could have been heard clear to the train station. “You know what that means, Jack.”

  Hunter squirmed in his seat. “Congratulations.”

  She must have taken that as confirmation of whatever she expected from him, for her smile outshone the electrical lighting. When she next turned it on Dan, unexpected pleasure surged through him. “Pleased to meet you, Wagner. I hope you stay in Pearlman for a while.”

  “That will depend on the test run of the new engine.” Yet as he said it, Dan found himself hoping that the winds stayed too strong for the test flight, at least for a day or two.

  * * *

  Jen could hardly rip her gaze from Dan. Just think. Dan Wagner. Daring Dan Wagner was right here in Pearlman at Jack and Darcy’s flight school. Sure, some aviators got bigger newspaper headlines, but in her estimation Daring Dan was the top flier in the country—if not the world.

  It didn’t hurt that he was incredibly handsome. Wavy auburn hair. Brilliant blue eyes. A commanding jaw and that absolute confidence she’d spotted at once. Sure, a pale scar slashed across his chin, probably from the horrible crash he’d suffered in November, but it only added to the legend. She tried to recall the details of that accident. Somebody got hurt, she thought, but she’d been too distraught at the time over Daddy’s passing to concentrate on newspaper articles.

  Dan Wagner!

  Her knees wobbled as she left the office. She was glad to sit down in the classroom, but the cold wooden chair couldn’t diminish her excitement. Finally, for the first time in ages, something truly exciting was happening in Pearlman. In addition, it meshed with her dreams. A pilot the caliber of Dan Wagner could teach her stunts. Even if he wasn’t flying air shows anymore, he could talk the sponsors into hiring her. Maybe he could not only teach her, but he could also become her manager. The possibilities were endless.

  “Thank you, God.” She’d never received a better answer to prayer.

  “For what?” Darcy asked as she took the seat across the table. “That Dan Wagner is here?”

  Jen hadn’t intended anyone to hear that. “I’m thankful that I passed the examination.”

  “Of course.” Darcy grinned. “But you do seem taken by Mr. Wagner.”

  “No more than I would be for any other star aviator.” Jen stared at the chalkboard, which was still covered with notes from last fall’s classroom sessions. “This is my dream. Why wouldn’t I get excited to see the best pilot in the world?”

  “The best in the world?” Darcy chuckled. “Some might debate that, but he’s certainly accomplished.”

  “He can do everything. Don’t you see? It’s the perfect opportunity to learn
from the best.” Jen frowned. “But Jack said he’s not an instructor. And Mr. Simmons said he’s only here to look at the new engine. Do you really think someone like Daring Dan Wagner would come all the way to Pearlman just for a motor?”

  “I have no idea, but there isn’t a lot for a pilot to do this time of year other than the exhibitions in Florida and California.”

  “And he said he’s done with air shows.”

  “He did?” Darcy seemed as surprised as Jen had been. “Interesting. The crash must have gotten to him. I can see why. Jack was pretty shaken up by our crash. It took a lot of nerve to get in a plane again.”

  “But he did. And so did you. Wagner doesn’t seem like the type to run away.”

  “Wagner?”

  “That’s what he told me to call him.”

  Darcy shook her head. “Oh, Jen.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Though she knew perfectly well that Darcy thought her hopeless when it came to men. Many a time Jen’s friend had counseled her to give a man a chance, but Jen had yet to meet someone who made her pulse race.

  Darcy smiled coyly. “You must admit that he is a handsome man.”

  Jen’s stomach fluttered despite her attempt to appear aloof. “I suppose some might think so.”

  Darcy laughed. “Your reaction reminds me of when I met Jack. I remember noticing how handsome he was—and how arrogant. The man annoyed me to no end. Did you know that at first he refused to teach me to fly?”

  “He did?” Jen had never heard that part of the story.

  “Oh, yes. I thought he considered women incapable of flying an airplane, but then I learned he was afraid I’d get hurt.”

  “But he did teach you.”

  “With a little persuasion.” This time Darcy’s laugh tugged up the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t give him any choice. Remember that, if Mr. Wagner proves to be as frustrating as Jack was.”

  “I don’t think he’s going to stay. The way he talked about seeing the test flight makes me think that’s the only reason he’s here.”

  “Hmm. That’s not much time to get to know him,” Darcy mused, “Nor is a test flight the best place to show your finer qualities.”

  “Why would I want to show him my finer qualities, whatever those are?”

  “A woman should always show a man her best side, especially when that man could help her achieve her dream.”

  Jen sucked in her breath. “You read my mind. He could teach me stunts and get me in air shows.”

  “He could. Did he seem interested in teaching you?”

  “I didn’t ask,” Jen admitted.

  “Then we’ll need to arrange an opportunity to do so. The engine test won’t do. He won’t want to talk about anything but the motor.” Darcy’s dark eyes twinkled. “I’m thinking a dinner invitation might be in order. We can celebrate your success at the same time. Say six o’clock?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Why not? We can’t afford to wait a single day.”

  Jen’s pulse accelerated. Dinner with just the Hunters and Dan Wagner. Darcy would make sure she had plenty of time to talk with Daring Dan. She would start by asking him to show her a stunt or two on one of the school’s planes and work up to the rest. “I’ll be there at six o’clock sharp.”

  “Oh, Jen?” Darcy touched her arm in the same manner her older sisters did when they were about to suggest something they knew she wouldn’t like. “You might want to wear a dress.”

  Chapter Two

  “What did you say?” Jen’s oldest sister, Beatrice, stood rooted to the slate floor of her foyer, her jaw dropped.

  “I need to borrow one of your dresses.” Jen thought she’d stated that plainly the first time. “I need a dress, and you’re closest to my size.” It also didn’t hurt that Beatrice had a sizable wardrobe of fine gowns, courtesy of marrying into the most prominent local family. True, they’d hit hard times lately, but even an outdated gown from Beattie’s closet was better than anything in Jen’s.

  “You need a dress? You? What on earth for?” Beatrice asked. “You only wear dresses to church and special occasions, like weddings and...um, dances and such.”

  “I have a dinner engagement.”

  “Dinner engagement?” Beattie echoed, still shocked. “Such as with a gentleman?”

  “Such as at the Hunter’s house.”

  “Darcy and Jack won’t care if you wear a dress or not.”

  “They’re not the only ones who will be there.” Jen hesitated to reveal that Dan Wagner would be in attendance. Beattie would leap to the wrong conclusion, thinking Jen was sweet on him, which she wasn’t. She was only interested, in a general and businesslike sort of way.

  “Ohhhh.” Naturally, Beatrice still assumed a man was involved.

  “It’s not what you think. It’s just a dinner.”

  “You need to borrow a dress for that? Surely your Sunday best would suffice.”

  “It’s old and worn.” Jen gritted her teeth. She would not feed Beatrice’s matchmaking inclinations. “Besides, I think Jack and Darcy are inviting others, people interested in the expedition and whatnot. I don’t want to ruin the night for them.”

  “Oh.” Beatrice’s hopeful expression fell. “I suppose I could find something that would do, but none of my gowns are in the latest fashion. We haven’t been able to...um...afford many new things lately.”

  “Old is fine. It’s bound to be in better shape than mine.”

  “All right.” Beatrice flinched at the screeching and squealing coming from the nursery upstairs. “Excuse me.” Her heels tapped across the slate to the thick carpet at the base of the staircase. “Branford! Tillie! That’s enough. Your Aunt Jen is visiting.”

  “Auntie Jen, Auntie Jen,” Jen’s nephew and niece cried in high-pitched voices. The squeals of delight were soon followed by the clatter of two sets of small feet racing down the stairs.

  “I’m sorry,” Beatrice apologized, though she knew full well that her children would come running the minute she mentioned Jen was here. “You know how much they love their aunt’s company. I’ll look for an appropriate gown while you spend time with them.”

  Seconds later, five-year-old Tillie and three-year-old Branford grabbed Jen by the hands and dragged her upstairs to the nursery. Books and dolls and wooden blocks were strewn across the floor. After Jen played a game of jacks with her nephew, ensuring he won, she received an invitation to a tea party from Tillie. Thankfully Beatrice returned before Jen had to join her niece and three dolls for the formal affair.

  “I’ve laid out a few gowns that I think might work,” Beattie said as they walked across the hallway to the bedroom. Five dresses were lined up on top of the quilt. Every one of them was covered with lace or ruffles or bows.

  Jen cringed. “These aren’t exactly my style.”

  “You want to look nice for all those expedition supporters, don’t you?” Beattie’s tone made it perfectly clear that she doubted even one subscriber was invited.

  Jen saw no reason to confirm her sister’s suspicions, even if it meant wearing a ghastly dress covered in ruffles. She looked for the least frilly gown. “Maybe we are celebrating something else.”

  “Oh! I almost forgot. Today was the day you were taking the examination, wasn’t it? Darcy mentioned it earlier this week when she stopped to look at Branford’s and Tillie’s old baby clothes. So, how did it go?”

  “I passed.”

  “You did?” If at all possible, Beattie looked more surprised than when Jen had asked to borrow a dress. “Congratulations.” The automatic response lacked warmth.

  Beattie had never liked airplanes. She didn’t understand her friend Darcy’s interest in aviation and couldn’t believe she continued to fly after crashing twice. From the first time Jen had mentioned h
er desire to fly, Beatrice had tried to talk her out of it. The reasons varied—unladylike, too dangerous, unbecoming—but the message was always the same.

  “Flying is safer now,” Jen reassured her.

  Instead of responding, Beattie picked up a garnet-colored velvet gown. “This one would suit your coloring.”

  Despite the hideous gown, Jen was glad for the change of subject. “It has lace. You know I don’t like lace.”

  “There’s only a little.”

  “There must be ten yards of it around the waist and neck and hem.”

  Beattie, the fair beauty of the family, pursed her heart-shaped mouth. “When did you say the dinner was? If there’s enough time, you could ask Ruth to remove the lace.”

  “The dinner is tonight.” Jen tossed down the gown she was holding. “These are all too frilly for me. Do you have something...plainer?” That was probably a futile hope. Beatrice had always chosen the most elaborate, feminine styles.

  “My everyday maternity dress.”

  “Definitely not.” She held up the garnet-colored gown. Though it was a couple years old, it had the dropped waist currently in fashion. With Jen’s greater height, it fell at exactly the right length. Beattie was right about the color suiting her, but she would feel ridiculous with all that lace.

  Beattie shooed away Tillie, who had come to watch the spectacle, and turned back to Jen. “Perhaps you could cover the lace. A sash around the waist might help. Or a cardigan. It is winter. A sweater would not be out of place except at the most formal occasions. Is this formal?”

  “No.” Darcy and Jack Hunter definitely would not host a formal dinner. Given that Dan Wagner wore an old Stetson and Levi’s to the flight school, she doubted he’d appear in a tuxedo or tails. “Maybe I should wear my Sunday dress.”

  “Take this one, too. If you decide not to wear it, nothing is lost. At least you’ll have a choice.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “Who is he?”