Tempting Kate

by Jennifer Snow

  “Really, Kate, it’s okay. If you’re too busy...”

  “Nope.” She opened her calendar and flipped to September. “The long weekend isn’t a good idea, as people are out of town... How about the twenty-second?”

  “Sounds great!”

  “Perfect. I’m so happy you two have finally committed to a date.” Truly, she was. Even though her never-going-to-settle-down brother was getting married before her. She pushed the thoughts away. “We can go over all the details...” When? When would she possibly have time? She had to make time. “We should do this soon...maybe later today?” Which was one day less to get everything done for the Big Bear event. She’d need to hustle. That was fine—she worked better under pressure.

  “Okay...if you’re sure?”

  “Definitely,” she said, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. She didn’t need to sleep for a month, right? And being busy was good. She’d missed being busy. At least she didn’t have to worry about Hayley turning into a bridezilla. Her brother’s fiancée might be agreeing to marriage, but Kate knew wedding planning would give Hayley indigestion. She’d be an easy-to-please bride.

  “Today works great. I’ll stop by your office this afternoon. ’Bye, Kate.”

  Hanging up the receiver, Kate worked through her to-do list. The catering for the wedding would be handled by the resort’s restaurant, so she would just need to finalize the menu. She’d received the guest list from Liz that morning and had forwarded it to Scott’s personal email account after she’d obtained the address from the resort desk clerk.

  She shook her head. Not even a proper business email account.

  As if he’d heard her thoughts a hundred miles away, his email appeared in her inbox. Her eyes narrowed. Even the sight of his name had her pulse racing. Sexual frustration, still? She let out a deep sigh. After their night together, she’d been hoping her crazy attraction to him would fade a little. He was just an arrogant jerk, related to one of her wedding clients, who should have stayed on her Do-Not-Do list. The images distracting her all day could stop at any time.

  She opened the email and read the single line.

  You have too many guests—maximum capacity for the Woodland Ballroom is 287.

  A quick glance at the list confirmed 289. Seriously? He was back to playing the annoyance card.

  She bit her lip, trying to read more into the words. Was he regretting their night together? Was he annoyed that she’d left without saying goodbye? She wondered if he’d found her note.

  She squared her shoulders as she sat forward. None of that mattered. She had a wedding to plan and her career to save.

  Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed. Show this guy how a professional work email was supposed to look.

  Dear Mr. Dillon,

  Thank you for responding to my email so quickly. I understand the Woodland Ballroom’s maximum capacity regulations, and my client and I are happy to reduce the numbers accordingly. Please count me as staff and count yourself uninvited, and that should solve the problem.

  Sincerely,

  Kate Hartley

  She smiled as she hit Send. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t exactly professional...

  * * *

  SCOTT LAUGHED OUT loud as he read the quick reply from Kate. Damn it, she was awesome. And damn his brother and Liz for making her off-limits, someone he couldn’t lose his head around. At least, not again.

  Dealing with Kate Hartley was going to require strategy, well-planned moves and as few thoughts about her naked as his single-minded manhood would allow. Which was proving impossible. He still couldn’t believe how uninhibited she’d been. So open, willing and by far the best impulsive sex he’d had in...a long time.

  He tapped his fingers against his desk and leaned back in his seat. A memory of the plane crash—or more accurately, the night after—came to mind.

  Working for Airways Travel had been a dream come true for him. Fascinated with planes and with flying from a young age, Scott had always wanted to become a commercial pilot. Unlike his brother, he hadn’t been drawn to the bright lights of Hollywood, loving his small-town life in Big Bear. But he’d definitely wanted to see and experience everything the world had to offer. Flying tourists to beautiful, exotic vacation spots was the perfect life. He’d spent his days off visiting the beaches of Bora Bora and Greece, all while making a comfortable bachelor living. It had been exactly what he’d wanted.

  Six years in and one mechanical failure had changed everything for him.

  He’d felt great that day as they’d hit thirty thousand feet, flying over the Caribbean Sea on the way to the Mayan Riviera. His copilot was a friend from the academy, and they’d chatted as the plane flew the plotted course over the pristine waters below. Weather conditions were favorable, and there were no reported storms in the Mexico area.

  Smooth sailing.

  The plane had started its descent, his copilot had left the cockpit for a bathroom break and he was lowering the aircraft over the ocean toward the Cancún International Airport.

  Ten thousand feet above the ground, the warning light appeared on the flight control panel, signaling a problem with the pitch trim compensator for the horizontal stabilizer.

  The plane’s nose shifted abruptly downward and the altitude drop was severe.

  Thank God, it had happened during the descent, so the seat belt sign had been turned on. A drop like that could have caused severe injuries to passengers.

  His heart had raced and he’d switched to manual controls immediately, knowing the compensator couldn’t be trusted to modify the trim to get them back under control. They were descending far too fast, at far too sharp an angle.

  A flight attendant entered, a forced calm expression on her face. “What do I do, sir?”

  “Keep everyone calm. Get Captain Geer.”

  Eight thousand feet and steadily declining, picking up speed as they lost altitude.

  Fuck. The Cancún airstrip was too far away, and there was no time to change course to make it to Cozumel. Landing anywhere other than the water as close to the beach as possible would be certain death. Civilian safety on the ground was as much a priority as on the aircraft, and he surveyed the area for an undeveloped section of beach, away from tourists.

  Redirecting their course, he radioed the tower. “Airways Travel flight A546 experiencing a malfunctioning stabilizer. Emergency landing procedures initiated.”

  Static on the other end told him his radio controls were out.

  “Captain Geer hit his head when the plane lost altitude. He’s unresponsive, sir,” the attendant said, returning to the cockpit, holding tight to the door.

  Shit. He was on his own. “Keep everyone calm. Get the bathroom door open and see if there’s a medic to assist Captain Geer,” he said, scanning the control panel.

  The pitch trim compensator was extended too far, as the plane’s speed had slowed during landing and there was no way to reduce the effect.

  Four thousand feet.

  The beach was in sight.

  Scott increased pressure on the yoke, allowing the nose to pitch up slightly, trying to slow the acceleration as the landing gear dropped.

  He swallowed hard and readjusted the stabilizers even more as they dived lower and lower.

  Waves crashed against the golden sand a thousand feet below them as the plane steadied.

  This had to work or they were all dead.

  As the plane skimmed the surface of the water with hard bumps along the waves, he held his breath. They were traveling too fast. Trees, rocks, sand all too dangerous to hit... He pulled on the brake and shut his eyes, knowing the rest was out of his hands.

  They hit the ground hard, and he, despite his seat belt, flew forward, struggling to brace himself as the plane crashed against sand, barreling along at speeds of o
ver four hundred miles an hour.

  A surge of relief made him nauseous as the plane stopped just inches from the tree line. Immediately, sirens blared. Local emergency services must have seen the aircraft from a distance. He took a deep breath and prepared for next steps, getting everyone off as quickly and safely as possible. His control panel was illuminated with damage alerts, and he could see they were leaking fuel. The plane could go up in flames at any minute. Releasing the locks on the emergency exits, he grabbed the communicator. “Hello, everyone. Please continue to remain calm. As you can see, we’ve landed a little off our destination. Damn GPS.” His attempt at a joke surprisingly came out sounding relaxed and confident.

  It was good the passengers couldn’t see his ashen, ghostlike coloring and the uncontrollable shaking of his hands. He’d just saved the lives of 228 people, but the day from hell was far from over. “Please proceed quickly but cautiously to your nearest emergency exit. Flight attendants, please assist the passengers to a safe distance from the aircraft. Muster point will be the...” He scanned the area. “The palm tree closest the mountain to the right.”

  Damn. This was insane. An unauthorized emergency landing without any safety protocols or communication with a tower.

  He needed to pull it together. Lives were still depending on him.

  Opening the cockpit door, he watched as people escaped through the emergency exits. Several injured people who still sat in their seats became his priority. He helped an elderly gentleman to the door, giving him his jacket to hold to the bleeding gash above his left eye. Then he assisted a woman and her two terrified kids to the front of the plane, where a flight attendant helped them slide down the big yellow inflatable slide to safety on the sand.

  Going back into the plane, he noticed the gorgeous blond-haired woman he’d had the pleasure of meeting in the airport restaurant hours before bent over in her seat. He’d been planning on looking for her during his twenty-four-hour layover in the Riviera, but this wasn’t the way he’d envisioned things. Her sobs were so soft, he’d barely heard them. She was folded over, barely visible in her window seat, and he could see her body shaking violently. She was in shock.

  “Hey, hello?” he said, leaning over the middle seat and touching her shoulder gently.

  Her head snapped up and wide-eyed panic registered on her pretty, tearstained face.

  “You’re okay. We’re on the ground. But we need to get you off this plane.”

  She shook her head.

  “Can I lift you?”

  “No!” She clutched the seat armrests.

  He scanned the seats around them, looking for the girlfriends she’d been traveling with. Nowhere in sight. Nice friends. “The plane is no longer safe. We need to evacuate right away.”

  New tears streamed down her face.

  “Just give me your hand and I’ll help you, okay? I promise, you’ll be all right,” he said.

  She looked at him, and in her expression he saw such trust, such vulnerability, it made it hard to breathe. “Okay,” she whispered, taking his hand.

  Leading her quickly to the door, he said, “Okay. I just need to check the plane once more...”

  “I’m not leaving you,” she said, panicked once more.

  Damn.

  “Everyone’s out, sir,” the last flight attendant said as she exited the plane.

  He nodded, scanning again quickly before leading the blonde to safety.

  Eight hours later, emergency rescue services had taken the injured to local hospitals and arranged for transportation for the others to their destination hotels. Thank God, most were tired, cold and hungry but otherwise unhurt. Fourteen passengers had sustained injuries, none life threatening. The woman, Liz, was still clutching his hand and as his own late-onset shock set in, he hadn’t wanted her to let go.

  Authorities on-site questioned him over and over and reassured him he was a hero. His quick thinking and skills had saved the lives of everyone on board, but he was numb, the reality of the situation not sinking in. Shook up and coming down from an adrenaline-induced high, he was feeling disoriented and in no state of mind to be alone.

  He’d gone with Liz to her resort, and they’d headed straight to the lobby bar for an escape. She was still shaking when she’d clinked her glass—straight vodka and ice—against his. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  The words meant nothing to him, as he’d yet to grip the reality of it all. But the look in her eyes said that she was offering more than just a drink in thanks, and right then, he was looking for any method of escape. Needing, wanting to feel alive yet desperate to quiet his frantic mind as thoughts raced through it. What if he hadn’t been able to land the plane safely? What if more people had been injured beyond cuts and bruises?

  He knew he should have just accepted a drink or two, then left her to find her friends and salvage as much of a vacation as they could before having to brave a flight home after their traumatic experience.

  He didn’t have to have sex with her.

  Or maybe he did. The stress and chaos of the day, combined with the instant, trauma-induced connection and bond between them, made the idea of calling it a night and leaving her nearly impossible. By midnight they were back at his complimentary suite at the resort that had come at too high a cost.

  Shutting the door, she immediately wrapped her long arms around his neck, backing him up against it. Her lips on his had been eager, determined and slightly desperate. The taste of alcohol on her breath made him pause. Taking advantage of drunk, vulnerable women was never his MO, but that evening he knew they were both reaching out for anything that might make them feel better, erase the terrifying thoughts from their minds and help them get through the night.

  Still, he needed to make sure she wouldn’t regret this decision. She had enough to deal with. They both did. “Hey,” he’d said, moving away from her. “Let’s slow it down, okay?”

  She’d pouted. “You don’t want me?”

  The tightening of his pants around his cock should have told her otherwise. “Of course I do...but let’s sit...get to know one another...”

  She’d lifted her tank top over her head, exposing her bare breasts to him, and once again wrapped herself around him. “I don’t need to know you. You saved my life today, and now I need to feel alive.”

  He’d asked no more questions, taking her then, giving in to their mutual need to feel, touch, appreciate this second chance at life.

  The sex had been raw, impulsive, an escape from the torturous thoughts and images plaguing him. No-strings-attached sex between two survivors who’d needed one another to cope with what had happened that day.

  Then a call from his brother while Liz had lain sleeping on the bed next to him had knocked him on his ass. “I just saw the news—you okay?”

  Damn. He should have known the media would have broadcast this all over the world by now. He hoped his parents hadn’t seen it yet. “I’m fine.”

  “They’re saying that landing was impossible.”

  “Obviously not,” he muttered, reluctantly turning on the hotel television to the local news station and muting the volume so as not to wake Liz. The last thing she needed to see were images of the crash being shown on repeat. His stomach turned as he watched a cell phone video that someone had captured of the plane hitting the water. Glancing at his chest, he touched the dark bruising the seat belt had left there from the impact. It could have been so much worse.

  “They are calling you the Pilot Angel,” Derek said.

  He leaned his forehead in his hand, trying to steady the room from spinning. He turned off the television. “Hey, Derek, call Mom and Dad and make sure they hear that I’m fine before they see this shit on TV, okay?”

  “You should call them,” he said.

  “Just do this for me, okay?” He was too shaken to mak
e the call himself.

  “Okay...sure. Listen, I’m kinda freaking out a little. A woman I’ve been seeing was flying to Mexico today. I’m not sure which flight, though...”

  Scott’s heart raced.

  “I mean, there’re dozens of flights headed to the Riviera daily, right?”

  “What was her name?” he asked, feeling his mouth go dry. There weren’t dozens. There were two. His morning flight and a later evening flight. And he and Derek had the same taste in women.

  “Liz. Liz Sheffield... You wouldn’t know if she was on it, would you? I’ve been calling her cell, but she’s not picking up.”

  Because her cell was lost on the beach, along with the belongings of 228 passengers and crew...scattered among the plane debris. He climbed out of bed quickly, needing to put space between himself and... Liz. His head ached and he couldn’t quite grasp the situation. He’d just slept with his brother’s new girlfriend? After he’d saved her life?

  Then another sickening realization hit—he’d once again been the catalyst for a woman’s cheating. But this time, it was so much worse.

  “Scott?”

  “I’m here. Um, yeah, man, she was on the flight.”

  “Shit. Is she okay?” Panic had entered his brother’s tone. “Do you know where she is? How do I reach her?”

  A wave of guilt washed over him as he glanced at her, sleeping. Fuck. “She’s fine. I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon,” he said.

  “Thank God. I’m thinking about asking her to marry me.”

  Scott couldn’t remember the rest of the call. He’d gathered his things and in a confused, conflicted state, he’d left the resort and headed to the airport.

  He’d tried avoiding his brother, hoping Derek’s relationship with Liz would end quickly. It didn’t. Then he’d hoped that she’d confess what had happened to Derek. She didn’t. And Derek’s obsession with the two of them having been on the same plane and the fact that Scott had saved Liz’s life had made him retreat for months. The idea that he was turning into the guy he hated most, the playboy who slept with unavailable women, made him ill. He wasn’t that guy. Derek had finally realized that it wasn’t a topic either Scott or Liz wanted to discuss, so he’d let it drop.