She’d never really take a vacation. Too frivolous, too time-consuming…and neither frivolous nor time-consuming were exactly part of her nature.
Her legs pumped the quarter mile distance between the front lobby and the third hangar of the small, private Orange County airport. The late-summer heat didn’t bother her, nor the fact that she hadn’t eaten since six that morning, but then again, stamina had never been a problem for Kylie.
Time, however…time was a problem, a big one. With so much work to do, there was no wild and romantic anything in her life, much less fantasizing about a trip to Paris.
“Kylie…are you listening to me?”
The voice came from the cell phone permanently planted to her ear. It was the sweet little voice of the biggest tyrant she’d ever met. “Yes, I’m listening,” Kylie said. “As my accountant, I always listen to you, Lou.”
“That’s Grandma Lou to you,” her grandmother said. “And I need your checkbook. I think I forgot to balance the thing last month…and maybe the month before…I don’t know. Anyway, the bank is calling, and…”
Kylie’s stomach fell to her toes. As she’d learned six months ago, it had been an incredibly stupid idea to hire her grandma after Grandpa had died. But the four foot four inch, eighty-going-on-sixteen Lou had blinked those rheumy baby blues, claiming poverty and boredom, and that she’d be dead in a week if someone, anyone, didn’t give her a job. And because Kylie, like her father before her, collected the needy, she’d folded like a cheap accordion on talent night.
The radio at her hip was still crackling with tension as the three people in her dispatch continued to argue over who was going to work the late shift tomorrow night. Their second richest client was coming through at midnight and required some tie-down assistance. Cocking her head, Kylie listened as the tiff upgraded to mutiny, which was nothing new. Bringing the radio to her mouth, she panted for air as she slowed down. “I’ll be there in two minutes. Fix this before I get there and heads won’t roll.” Empty threat, and they all knew it. She couldn’t have found another linesman, dispatch or mechanic in this puny, one-horse hellhole to save her life, but it was her hellhole and she’d make it work.
She always did.
“Well.” Her grandmother huffed a bit in her dainty little voice over Kylie’s cell phone. “No need to get your panties in a twist. Fine, then. I’ll handle this situation myself.”
“Grandma, I was talking to-”
“That’s Lou to you.”
Dial tone.
The cell rang again before Kylie could toss it in a ditch. Warily, she glanced at the caller I.D. and sighed.
“We have a situation in the front lobby,” Daisy, her secretary-and mother-reported.
A chip off Lou’s block as another sweet, little, dainty ex-socialite, Daisy had lost all her money dabbling in day trading. She couldn’t file, couldn’t answer a phone without disconnecting someone and couldn’t find the engine compartment of an airplane to save her life.
Yet another pity hire.
Funny though, the only person Kylie pitied at the moment was herself. “What’s the situation?” She pictured two planes coming in at the same time, or a computer failure. Maybe a plane hadn’t been tied down properly and was hurling itself down the slight hill toward the hangar designated as the lobby, because nothing, absolutely nothing, would have surprised her today. “Mom?”
“I’ve been answering the phone all morning and I need aspirin. Do you have any?”
Kylie stopped, leaned against hangar number two and thunked her head back against the metal wall. Eyes closed, head tipped up facing the sun, she decided she was the one who needed aspirin. She loved her mom with all her heart, she did, but for once, just once, she wanted her mother to be the mother.
“Maybe I should leave early.”
“But mom, the phones-”
“No problem, I figured that all out weeks ago. I just call line one with line two, then put them both on hold.” Daisy’s bubbly laughter tinkled in Kylie’s ear. “That way the phones are both busy and you don’t miss any calls! Ingenuous, huh?”
Kylie resisted the urge to slit her wrists. “How often do you do this?”
“Why, whenever I need to go home early. Just a couple days a week, I suppose. Oh, and guess what I just did, honey?”
Kylie was afraid to guess, honest to God she was.
“I picked up my favorite magazine this morning, and besides having that hunky Harrison Ford on the cover, it had a contest form for some Mother Of The Year award. You’ll never guess what I’m going to win.”
Kylie choked back a laugh because it would probably be a half-hysterical one. Mother Of The Year? Wouldn’t that be Kylie, who’d raised everyone around her?
“A trip to Paris!” Daisy laughed. “Isn’t it too perfect?”
Busy streets, lots of wine, no anxieties…no mother or grandmother to drive her off her rocker. “Perfect,” she agreed.
“I know! Everyone deserves their dream, honey, and I know yours is Paris. So when I win Mother Of The Year-which, of course, I will, as I’ve done a fabulous job with you, if I say so myself-I want you to come with me!”
The sun felt good on Kylie’s face. If only she could stand here all day instead of going inside and facing the chaos. “Mom, if I wanted a trip to Paris, I’d go.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Because ever since your father died you’ve taken it upon yourself to run this place just because it was his dream.”
It was Kylie’s dream, too, to kept the airport afloat, to see it prosper.
All she needed was a miracle.
Both she and her dad were practical, single-minded, goal-oriented, orderly, sane people, who had shared this weakness for the impractical, chaotic, unorderly, bankruptcy-bound airport. Maybe because in the air, they found true freedom, or because there was just something about walking through a hangar full of planes knowing you could hop in one and be anywhere you wanted to be. Whatever the reason, the airport had been her dad’s one passion, and she’d inherited both his love for the place…and the debts.
“You know, if you’d only get married, you’d feel more relaxed. Grandma said a nice boy just moved in across-”
“No,” Kylie said quickly. Relationships didn’t work for her. She only had room in her life for one problem area-the airport. Everything else had to be, well, easily managed, practical.
Men were not easily managed or practical, not for her.
Her mother and grandma shared the opposite approach. Men were like candy, to be gobbled up. They often tried to impose this lifestyle on the reluctant Kylie in the form of blind dates from hell. “I don’t need a date,” she reiterated.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I-” She broke off, refusing to argue with the one woman no one on the planet could win an argument with. “So there isn’t an emergency up there?”
“You work too hard, Kylie. You care too much, you give too much. You need to get something back, and this trip-”
“Mom. Is there an emergency up there?”
“Of course there is. I told you, I need aspirin!”
“Okay, fine. I’ll be there as soon as I put out the fire in dispatch, deal with Grandma, and-”
“There’s a fire in dispatch? Why didn’t you say so? I’ll call 9-1-1.”
“No!” Kylie lowered her voice with effort. “Don’t call 9-1-1, I have it covered.”
“Well, if you’re sure, honey.”
“I’m sure. Gotta go, Mom. Don’t call 9-1-1. I repeat, don’t call 9-1-1.”
“You don’t have to shout, Kylie Ann.”
She could feel her blood pressure rising. “You know what, Mom? Take the whole afternoon off. On me.”
“Oh, honey, really?”
“Really-” She hadn’t finished the word before her mother disconnected. Picturing her mother racing for the door, and bulldozing over clients in her hurry to get out, Kylie managed
not to thunk her head against the wall again.
BY LATE THAT NIGHT Kylie had handled each and every crisis, including dealing with the fire department, who’d come roaring out, sirens and lights flashing, due to her mother’s call.
Because of course she’d called 9-1-1 before heading out.
But for now, everything was good. She was head-deep into the engine compartment of a Cessna, with good old-fashioned rock music cranked up to head-banging volume on the radio, singing to her heart’s delight as she worked. The airport was empty, shut down for the night, and she was in her favorite state.
Alone.
Yes, maybe she’d rather be in Paris, but this wasn’t so bad either. She stood in her airport-thank you, Dad-surrounded by her favorite things…airplanes. Airplanes couldn’t talk back, couldn’t screw up the bank account, couldn’t leave early to get their nails done and their hair bleached.
She felt lucky, even with the debt weighing her down. After college she’d worked at other private airports to gain experience, always knowing she’d end up back here. She’d just never imagined she’d be here without her father, the only man to ever really understand her.
Wearing overalls stained with grease, her old clunky work boots and a backwards baseball cap on her short mop of dark hair, she felt perfectly content. Even-get out the record books-relaxed.
“Hey, babe.”
And just like that, with those two simple words uttered in that unbearably familiar, husky and, damn it, sexy voice, she shot from content to tense in a heartbeat.
McKinnon.
Peace shattered, an automatic snarl appeared on her mouth. “What do you want?” she asked without turning around.
“Hmm. That’s quite a question.”
A tall, dark shadow fell over her, but she didn’t need to turn her head to see the long, leanly muscled form of Wade McKinnon, owner of McKinnon Charters, not when that very form was seared on her brain from what she had aptly named The Unfortunate Incident.
The Unfortunate Incident had occurred last New Year’s Eve, at their annual airport bash where all the employees used the holidays as an excuse to party hard and work little. Her mother, ever so helpful, had spiked the punch, which, Kylie told herself, was the one and only reason she’d been caught beneath the mistletoe by Wade in the first place. Technically, he wasn’t even an employee, he merely leased space for his operation. But she’d been caught.
Caught and kissed.
That the kissing had been instigated by her in a vodka-induced giggly haze really burned her butt, but Wade had done his fair share of the kissing that night, too, and he’d been damn good at it.
The jerk.
She’d kissed experienced guys before, and had occasionally followed her hormones. Okay, twice. She’d followed her hormones twice. That’s how she knew they happened to be in perfectly fine working order.
They seemed to be exceptional in this man’s presence.
“What do I want…” Stepping closer into the meager light of her single hanging bulb in the nearly empty hangar, Wade stroked his jaw thoughtfully.
Against her will, the sound of his fingers against the day-old growth of beard made her knees wobble. Damn it, he looked mouthwatering, with his dark hair cut pilot-short, his tanned, rugged face with the laugh lines fanning out from his deep blue eyes.
The face of a fallen angel, her grandmother had said on the day he’d shown up with a signed lease and a crooked, wicked smile.
The “angel” flashed that smile now. “You know what I want, Kylie. Same thing I’ve always wanted.”
Her stomach quivered, which she ignored. He wore black jeans, a black shirt shoved up past his forearms, and was quite possibly the sexiest man on the planet, while she was covered in grease and overalls, had her hair stuffed beneath a hat and didn’t have an ounce of makeup on. His “interest” was laughable, but that was okay. She knew what he meant when he said he wanted her.
He wanted her airport, and in the year that they’d known each other, he’d made her three official offers, two of which she turned down flat. The last one, made the week before, was such a good one she’d nearly passed out. That offer would solve her every problem. It’d fix the debts her father had wracked up before dying while testing an untried, handmade aircraft. It’d solve the problem of feeding and caring for her mother and grandmother, something her father had always told her would fall to her if something happened to him.
And it’d solve the whole Paris fantasy, as she’d be able to go. And maybe never come back.
“You agreed to give me two weeks to think about it.”
“I’ll give you your two weeks.” He cocked his head, his sharp eyes missing nothing. “Working again? Or should I say still?”
“Smith wants his plane first thing in the morning. Since you know damn well I can’t afford Doogie’s double-time pay, here I am.” Her head mechanic was expensive, but good. But she was even better, and far cheaper.
“You’re going to kill yourself with your pace, Kylie,” Wade said softly.
Why was it that whenever he said her name it felt like a caress? Probably because she hadn’t had sex in this millennium. “Don’t you have your own life to worry about?”
“Yep.” Another flash of the grin that could, and did, melt bones. “Heading out to Doogie’s birthday bash as a matter of fact.”
She turned back to the plane. Doogie had a fondness for airplanes, parties and girls. In that order. There’d probably be girls jumping out of his cake.
Looking as good as Wade did, she had no doubt he’d be fighting them off by the end of the night. They’d be falling at his feet by the dozen.
“So come with me,” came that sensuous voice right in her ear. “Protect me.”
Ah, hell, she’d spoken out loud. Jerking upright, she smacked the top of her head on the engine. Stars exploded in her head and she ground her back teeth. “I don’t really care what you do, or who you do it with.”
“Really?” He stroked a finger over the tender bump on her head. “Then why are you bringing it up?”
Right. Why was she bringing it up? Oh, yeah. Because she was an idiot.
“Come on, Kylie. Come with me to the party.”
His eyes were deep, and the most unusual shade of deep blue. When he looked at her, her body wanted to say yes to him, yes to everything, especially if it involved an orgasm. “No,” she said, listening to her head; and buried herself back into the engine compartment. Men were not her thing, she reminded herself. She had enough trouble in her life at the moment. “Go away.”
“Such sweet talk.” He sighed, a frustrated sound. “Good night, Kylie. I’d say don’t work too hard, but you would just to be difficult.”
She waited until the sound of his footsteps faded away to let out a shaky breath. She’d done them both a favor, he just didn’t know it, that’s all. She wasn’t a girly girl. Pretty hairdos and fancy clothes and all stuff female was one big collective mystery.
Then there was the serious case of nerves that hit whenever she thought of him. It had nothing to do with the fact he could buy her airport. Or that he had eyes that made her…yearn. Bottom line was, Kylie, so fearless in everything else, felt terrified of adding yet another person to her list of people to be in charge of. She was hardly managing as it was, and she couldn’t add another living soul.
She knew it was a pathetic attempt at self-preservation, but at the moment it worked for her.
A trip to Paris would have worked better.
CHAPTER TWO
W ADE M C K INNON’S alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., startling him into near cardiac arrest and bringing back flashes of the military life he didn’t feel like facing at such an ungodly hour. Groaning, bleary-eyed, he knocked the clock to the floor and put his pillow over his head.
But before sleep could claim him again, he remembered.
He had to get up. He was no longer a wild, irresponsible nobody. Shocking as it was, he’d pulled himself out of the gutter. He now actually had
a reason to get up in the morning. The Air Force had had a big hand in knocking sense into him, and as a result, he’d managed to put his experiences from it to good use by starting his own charter company. He was even-and he was just getting used to this after five years-successful. Hugely so. Unbelievably, he could actually do whatever he wanted, when he wanted, the only irony being that he was often too busy now to do just that.
Surging out of bed, he got into the shower, drank a gallon of coffee straight up, and went to work.
Walking through the private airport never failed to make him smile. God, he loved it here, in this dinky, falling apart, old place. A year ago he’d moved his charter business from Oregon to Southern California because he’d gotten tired of the rain, and he’d never been sorry.
Of course that might have something to do with Kylie, the lean, mean fighting machine who owned the airport. Man, he loved a kick-ass woman, and there was no doubt, Kylie was kick-ass. She was rough and tough and battle-ready, and in sharp contrast to her curmudgeonly nature, was so hauntingly beautiful, he could never take his eyes off her.
She did her best to hide that beauty, with her dark hair in its ragged cut he suspected she did herself, little to no makeup, and coveralls over the taut body he wanted beneath his. But to Wade, it was all in the eyes, and hers, deep jade ones, gripped him every time she laid them on him.
It wasn’t often a woman got under his skin, but she’d crawled in there at first sight and had never left. She’d laugh hysterically if she knew. Then she’d go back to work and forget about him. All she did was work, and it drove him as crazy as the memory of kissing her did.
The hangars were filled with airplanes, new and old. The smell of fuel and warm summer morning filled the air, and he inhaled deeply. With both the east and west doors open, the wind whipped through at a good enough clip to nearly rip his donut right out of his hand. Couldn’t have that, so he popped the rest in his mouth and dusted off his fingers.
He had an early flight taking some movie star to Moro Bay for a photo shoot. Which meant he’d get to sit around on the bluffs and kick back for a few hours before flying her home.
Paris or Bust! Page 19
