She ran into her bedroom and stuffed the clothes she’d worn to work into the hamper. No time to straighten up. A quick look in the mirror—thank goodness for short hair—and she hurried back down the hall. Owen was at the front door and pulled her into his arms as soon as she opened it.
“Hi, babe. Long time, no see. I think my lip needs another treatment.” He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her.
She slid her hands under his polo shirt, anxious for the feel of his skin. Her fingertips traced the outline of his six pack, warm and smooth, like satin over steel, then circled his nipples. He responded to her caresses by wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her up. She hooked her legs around his hips and nestled his impressive package right where she wanted it. “Mmm.”
He trailed kisses down her neck, and she dropped her head back to give him more access. “Take me to bed, flyboy. I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”
“I believe I am overdue in returning that favor you mentioned yesterday. I wouldn’t want you to think I might weasel out of my obligations.” He carried her down the hall and put her on her feet next to the bed. “I’ve pictured this a hundred times since the other night. It’s so much better with your enthusiastic participation,” he said, as she tugged his shirt over his head.
“Where’s your wallet?”
His hands stilled their exploration of her bra closure. “My wallet?”
“No man as handsome as you are walks around without a condom in his wallet, so please don’t act all shy and virginal.” She patted his back pockets, extracted his wallet from the left one and handed it to him. “Unlike some people, I don’t go through another person’s wallet,” she snarked, reminding him of his first visit here.
“For someone as beautiful as you are, you’re pretty damn smart.” He rolled his eyes, took out the condom and tossed it on the nightstand.
“I’m not beautiful, but I’ll cop to smart. Now Hank’s date, she was beautiful.”
Owen had managed to remove most of her clothes at this point, and he gently grasped her shoulders and held her away from him. His gaze traveled over her, and everywhere he looked, her skin heated.
“You’re wrong about Hank’s date. She was overblown, overweight, and over made-up. You,” he stopped to kiss each eyelid, “are the real beauty. You’re healthy, strong, and incredibly lovely.”
Miranda opened her mouth to speak, but she had nothing. No man had ever said such wonderful things to her. With so much sincerity. Granted, there hadn’t been many, but the few brief affairs she’d had never went like this. There had been a lot of heated fumbling, mostly in the dark; minimal conversation, and a certain amount of awkwardness in the morning. Please, God, don’t let Owen be like them.
She unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down. His erection tented his briefs and bobbed when she stroked him. “Off with the camouflage, flyboy.” She tugged his pants down, and he kicked them away, then stood still as her hands roamed across his chest and abdomen. “Talk about beautiful,” she murmured. She climbed onto the bed and pulled him down over her. “Two hours ago when we were in nearly this same position, being here with you, like this, was all I could think about. Instead of pushing you away, I wanted to feel you inside me. Don’t make me wait any longer, Owen.”
“Soon, love. First, I have to taste you.” He leaned down and suckled her breast, rolling her pebbled nipple between his lips. He transferred his attention to her other breast and groaned in pleasure. “Vanilla and lemon. That’s what you taste like. Sweet, yet tangy.”
Miranda rubbed the velvet head of his shaft and licked the drop of moisture she found there from her fingers. She wrapped them around his shaft and pumped him once, then again, and watched his blue eyes turn nearly black as his pupils dilated.
“Wait, woman.” He reached for the condom and ripped the packet open, then rolled it on as she watched, her tongue caught between her teeth.
“Hurry, flyboy. You’ve already got me hotter than a rocket.”
He positioned himself at her opening and—
Her cell phone rang.
“No. Don’t stop. It’s a text. I’ll get it later,” she pleaded.
He glanced at the screen. “It’s Neil. It says 911.”
“Every text he sends says 911. Right now, you’re my emergency.” She scooted down on the bed, and his shaft dipped inside just enough to drive her crazy. She raised her hips to capture another inch of his thick erection.
“Fuck,” Owen growled, and plunged into her. He gripped her hips and slowly withdrew, then buried himself to the hilt again.
Miranda moaned as the slow strokes built the sensations scorching across her skin to unbearable levels. With a cry and a shudder, her orgasm toppled her into bliss. He followed a few strokes later, while the walls of her core milked him dry.
Ten minutes later, his talented fingers had her well on the way to another climax.
“Please tell me you’ve got another condom,” she gasped as he slipped a second finger inside her.
He shook his head. “No luck. I’m sorry.”
“What? You’re kidding.” Miranda couldn’t stop her hips from arching into his hand. She wanted to feel him fill her again.
“I wasn’t expecting”—he licked a nipple and grinned as she clenched around his fingers—“to get this lucky.” He circled the sensitive nub at her apex with his thumb and watched as she came apart again. “Next time—and please tell me there will be a next time—I’ll be better prepared.” He kissed her tenderly.
Miranda sighed with contentment. There would definitely be a next time. Many next times, she hoped. She nestled against him as her eyelids fluttered shut.
She woke spooned against Owen, his arm across her torso with one hand cupping a breast. I could so get used to this. She glanced at the clock: 5 a.m. She had lots of time to doze and imagine waking up like this every day.
Wow, she was getting way ahead of herself. She hardly even knew this man. He could already have a significant other, although he didn’t strike her as the cheating kind. At the very least, he should have a girlfriend. No way could Thor, here, not have been snagged by some lucky girl up north. She’d be sweet and shy and very, very pretty.
Bitch. Miranda laughed at herself.
Before she could drift back to sleep, her phone chimed with another text message. A text at this hour was pushing it, even for nervous Neil. She tapped the screen. “Been trying to reach you. Your mom is in hospital. Needs surgery today. Call me ASAP!”
She surged out of Owens embrace and sat up. Shit. Surgery? What kind of surgery? Please, God, let it be a hangnail or a sprained ankle or, or anything that wasn’t life-threatening. She hit reply. “Sorry. Missed your text.”
Yeah, missed was not exactly the right word for what she’d done. Guilt rocked her. She was busy having multiple orgasms while her mom was sick? Or hurt? She was a terrible daughter. She needed more information and texting took too long. “I’m calling you now.” She stood and began to pace.
“Thank goodness,” Neil answered after only one ring. “I was afraid something had happened to you, too.”
No matter how bad things were, Neil could always imagine something worse.
“No. I’m fine. What’s wrong with Mom?”
“Those episodes I texted you about? They were mini-strokes, the doctors say. She needs to have—hell, I can’t even pronounce it—a carotid enda-something. Those are the arteries that send blood to her brain, Miranda. One of them is almost totally blocked. They want to operate today, before she has a really big stroke. One that could kill her.”
Miranda gasped and sat down hard on the bed. “When? What time is the surgery, Neil?”
“Nine o’clock this morning. You need to be here, Miranda. She won’t ask you to come, but I know she’d feel better if she saw you before she went under.” There was a pause then Neil whispered, “She could die, Miranda. Or have the big stroke during her operation.”
Miranda looked at the clock
. No way could she drive there in time. There was only one way—and she couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t. “I’ll do my best to get there, Neil. What hospital is she in?”
“Emory St. Joseph’s. Room 586.”
“Ok, I’ll call her right away. I’ll get there as soon as I can, Neil.”
“Miranda, you know what you need to do, don’t you?”
“Neil, I said I’d be there as soon as I could. Don’t harass me right now, okay?”
“Okay.” He sounded resigned, which only made Miranda feel worse.
She wanted to scream and rant and kick herself. “I’ll talk to you as soon as I’m on my way, Neil. Thanks for calling me.”
~~~
Owen only heard her half of the conversation, but it was enough to let him know something bad had happened to her mother. She hung up and sat heavily on the bed, scrubbing her face and practically pulling her hair out. He sat up and put an arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
She turned into his shoulder, and he felt the dampness of her tears on his chest.
“Honey, talk to me. Maybe I can help.”
She shook her head, refusing to raise it off his shoulder. “You can’t help. It’s my mom. She needs surgery and they’re going to op, operate—” she hiccuped, “at nine o’clock this morning.” She reached for the box of tissues on her nightstand.
Owen glanced at the clock. 5:30. He could get her to Atlanta in time, but they’d have to get a move on. “You call Lacey and explain you can’t work today. I’ll call the airport and have them—”
“No!” She shook her head vehemently. “I’m not flying. I—I can’t.” She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. They refilled with tears while she wrung her hands in distress.
“Honey, there’s no other way to get you there in time.” She must be one of those people who were truly terrified to fly. What a mess. He turned her toward him with a firm grip on her shoulders. “Miranda, do you trust me?”
Her eyes searched his face for a moment, then she nodded. “Of course I do. That’s not the—”
“I’ll keep you safe, honey. I promise.”
“Oh God,” she cried in anguish. “This can’t be happening.”
“It’s your decision, but you have to make it now, Miranda. You know there’s no other way to make it there in time.” It was a tough call, and if she decided against flying, he’d hope to hell her mom survived the surgery with no complications. Otherwise, Miranda would never forgive herself.
She squared her shoulders. “I know you think I’m stupid to be so scared.” She raised a hand to stall his denial of her statement. “But you’re right. There’s no other way. So, fly me to Atlanta, Owen. I’ll be forever in your debt.”
“Good.” He gave her a squeeze and reached for his cell phone. “Call Lacey. I’ll get the plane ready.”
“Oh no. What about … the other stuff? You know, the FBI stuff? I’m supposed to keep track of the Jansens.”
“Didn’t you say they were going fishing today? Let the FBI guys do their part. Someone else can man your desk while we’re gone.”
He could have her back by this evening, assuming all went well with her mom’s surgery. If not, well, Lacey Walker would just have to find someone to cover until Miranda came back.
He had to leave tomorrow anyway. He’d had Alex fly the Aztec in yesterday so he could stay one extra day and have dinner with Miranda, but that cut out all of the slack he’d calculated into his schedule. They both had to fly out in the morning to meet other charter obligations. Damn. He had to find another pilot. Or two.
He called Naples and filed a flight plan to DeKalb-Peachtree Airport. No way was he flying into Hartsfield-Jackson. It was the world’s busiest airport. Their controllers had limited enthusiasm for small, private aircraft.
He dashed out to his car and got his gym bag. He’d have to wear last night’s clothes, but at least he could shower and shave. When he got back to the bedroom, Miranda was pacing by the bed.
“Did you call Lacey?”
She nodded. “She was wonderful. No surprise there. She’ll pull someone off the concierge desk until I get back.”
“Okay if I grab a shower?”
“Of course. How soon will …” She swallowed hard. “Will the plane be ready?”
“Forty-five minutes, tops.”
“In that case, we’re sharing the shower.”
His mind immediately dropped into the gutter, and Owen cursed himself for going there. He’d not act on the images dancing through his head, but he’d be a liar if he denied having them.
Thank the gods the shower was big, so they weren’t plastered against each other. He kept his hands to himself and his eyes on the wall and did fuel and air-speed calculations in his head to keep his semi-erection from becoming full-blown. They both dressed quickly, and Miranda threw a few things in a bag. She was ready to go in thirty minutes. Miranda displayed none of the qualities that aggravated Owen most about women—inability to be on time, desire to be the center of attention, or the expectation she would be treated like a princess. In fact, Miranda climbed a notch in his estimation at every turn. She was already close to the top of the list of his favorite females.
Once she made her decision, it had been no fuss, no muss. She skipped applying makeup and still looked lovely, if a bit pale. Her bottom lip was becoming swollen from her constant chewing on it. It was the only nervous mannerism she displayed outwardly. Inside, he was sure she was a ball of nervous energy.
He parked by the general aviation hangar, glad to see the Aztec was already out on the apron and the fuel truck was driving away. Miranda’s eyes got wider as she looked at the plane.
“I thought we’d be in the, uh, the pl-plane you brought the Jansens down in,” she stuttered.
“The Citation? No. Jack flew that back the same day we landed. We had another charter for it. I had Alex fly the Aztec in when I—”
“Decided to stay an extra day and have dinner with me,” Miranda interrupted. She rubbed her eyes with her hand. “This must be costing you a fortune.”
He didn’t want her to worry about costs right now. She had enough to deal with. He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “The walk on the beach would have been worth it.”
Her lower lip curled out, and her eyes got sad.
“Besides, with all the extra business I know you’ll bring in, I’ll be able to write this off as a test flight,” he lied. The outlay to add Naples as base to his charter service would cost a pretty penny. He’d put the first year’s expense estimates along with his expected income in a spreadsheet and sent it to his investors. They’d given him the go-ahead but asked him to keep costs down as much as possible until they could see how close the estimates were to reality. They wouldn’t be very happy with this flight, but that was too damn bad. Family came first. Always. The fact that it was Miranda’s family mattered to him more than he thought it would.
Miranda put her hand on his arm. “Owen, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“I know. I’m just glad I was here to help.”
“If you hadn’t been, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“You’d have sweet-talked some other flyboy into taking you to Atlanta.” He winked.
“I don’t trust any other flyboy. Or even know one, for that matter.” A frown line appeared between her brows. “I may have a panic attack. I’ll try not to, but I can’t promise.”
He couldn’t imagine solid, feisty Miranda having a panic attack. “No worries. Do you have something to take when you have one?”
“No. I’ve never had one. But I know what just the thought of flying does to my insides. So, fair warning.”
“Which do you think would be best, up in the cockpit with me, or back in passenger-land? Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I want you as comfortable as you can be, considering.”
“I think in the back. I don’t want you watching if I have to throw up. Once is more than enough to witness.”
<
br /> “No problem. Yours wasn’t my first rodeo.”
“Still. I’ll be behind the copilot’s seat to keep the weight more balanced. I’m going to text Neil while you finish your pre-flight check.” She waved him away and dug in her purse for her phone.
“Okay.” He frowned as he walked to the plane. She seemed to know a lot about flying for someone so terrified of it. He ran the checklist, then went back to the car.
“Ok, my lady, your carriage awaits.”
There was a light breeze off the gulf, and she instinctively turned her head toward it. The sun hadn’t cleared the horizon, but the golden glow in the east presaged its imminent arrival. The brightest stars had faded into the dark lavender western sky, and only Venus glittered overhead.
Her smile was watery, and her knuckles were white, but she kept her chin up and her back straight. He admired her courage. He’d keep this flight as smooth as silk and hope it eased her fears so that the flight back would be less stressful.
She settled in, buckled her belt and gave him a fake smile. “Okay, I’m all set. We using 32?”
He glanced back sharply. She knew the runway designations? This was becoming more bizarre. Few people without flight training knew runways were designated by their compass headings, in this case 320 degrees. If the wind was out of the east, they’d take off in the opposite direction on the same runway, which would be designated fourteen, or 180 degrees away from today’s heading.
She ducked her head at his frown and fumbled with her purse to stuff it under her seat and avoid his eyes.
Clearance to taxi came from the tower, and Owen attended to the business of flight. He’d sort out Miranda’s strange inconsistencies later. Takeoff was smooth, and he banked left to exit the airport’s traffic pattern while maintaining a gentle rate of climb. Once he attained proper altitude and trimmed the aircraft to his satisfaction, Owen looked over his shoulder. Miranda had her eyes closed and hugged herself, but there was an undeniable expression of delight on her face. Totally confused by her mixed signals, he decided to keep his mouth shut unless she initiated a conversation. They’d be at Peachtree in about an hour and a half, all things being equal. The hospital wasn’t far, so they should make it in plenty of time for Miranda to see her mother before surgery.
Barefoot Bay_Flight Risk Page 7
