The wind rushed through her fingers and past her face, cold, clear, and loud. Above her, Garth grasped her hands briefly and squeezed them, and she squeezed back. The gesture warmed her from the inside out, in spite of the freezing cold air.
To her left Andy appeared again, falling next to them with the camera trained on her. Garth waved to him and tapped her hand, and she copied him, waving at the camera. Exhilaration spiraled through her at the thought that she’d done it. She’d actually jumped out of the plane!
Garth tipped them somehow, and they banked toward the cameraman. Andy reached out and grabbed her hand, holding onto her as they fell, and he laughed at the excitement and elation that must have been on her face. She looked at the ground, at the beautiful green hills and forests of the Northland of New Zealand, and the sparkling azure Pacific Ocean far off to her right. It was amazing, better than Garth had promised, and joy swelled in her that he’d talked her into jumping.
Wait a minute—talked her into jumping? He’d kissed her! She laughed then, a burst of pure happiness. He probably kissed every woman who froze on the plane. Kind of an odd relaxation technique, but at that moment she didn’t care. She’d done it. Screw you, Ethan. Silently, she thanked her best friend Stella for booking her on the jump.
Above her, Garth checked the altimeter on his wrist and signaled to Andy, who let go of her hand. Five thousand feet. Their ninety seconds of freefall had passed in a flash.
Garth somehow turned them so they circled in the air, the world spinning below them, then steadied them and tapped her shoulder. She put her hand on the ripcord as he’d showed her and pulled hard. The moment of truth.
Above them, the parachute unfurled like a silver fern, billowing out into a white mushroom. With a snap that jerked her stomach into her throat, they came to an abrupt halt. Their legs dropped and they hung vertically. Silence replaced the rushing in her ears.
Garth rubbed her arm. “All good, honey?”
Her heart swelled. “All good, thank you. Wow, just...oh my God, wow.”
“Told you.” His voice held an obvious smile.
They floated slowly, the panorama spread out like an oil painting. Far below them, Andy’s parachute opened. He’d fallen further so he’d be down first, ready to film her landing.
She searched for words to express her gratitude. “It’s just fantastic, Garth. Thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome.” He pulled the toggles and adjusted their trajectory.
“I can’t believe you’ve done this over a thousand times. You are certifiable.”
He chuckled. “It’s addictive. There’s nothing else like that feeling when you leap out of a plane. Nothing matches up to it.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, except really, really good sex,” he teased.
She giggled. “I’ve never had sex that made me feel like that.”
“Not even with the bastard?”
“Especially with the bastard,” she said vehemently. “He sucked in bed, and not in a good way.”
Garth snorted. “What an idiot. Sounds like you’re well shot of him.”
“Absolutely I am. And hey, I didn’t throw up either.”
“Hallelujah!”
She sighed, looking around her at the clear blue sky. “I feel like an angel.”
“I have to say you look it with your blonde hair.”
Her cheeks grew warm in spite of the cold air. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Rowland?”
“It appears so, Ms. Jackson. I do apologize. I don’t make a habit of it.”
She looked at their feet swinging above the green fields. “So you don’t always kiss women who get panic attacks?”
“Ah... Not so much. I hope you won’t sue me for sexual harassment.”
She glanced over her shoulder. His mouth was only inches from hers. Her lips curved. “I wasn’t complaining.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” For a long, long moment, his eyes bored into hers, and she got that tingly feeling again, unable to stop her lips parting. He’d kissed her. Would he kiss her again?
Oh God, please let him kiss her again.
He tore his gaze away, however, and checked his altimeter. “Nearly at a thousand feet. Time to think about the landing.”
“Okay.” Eek. The landing. The other bit she hadn’t looked forward to.
“Remember to keep your feet up. Don’t let them touch the ground before mine.”
“All right.”
The ground approached at an alarming rate. She’d felt as if she’d been hanging in the sky, but now she understood how fast they’d been falling.
All the saliva disappeared from her mouth and her knuckles whitened where she clutched hold of the straps. “Have you ever had a bad landing?”
“Nah.” He adjusted the toggles again, aiming for the X on the ground in front of them. Andy had already landed and his camera was focused on them as they sailed toward the grass. “Anyway, I’m okay. As you pointed out, I have something soft to land on.”
Too nervous to laugh, she bit her lip to stop herself screaming as the grass rushed up to meet them.
He gave her arm a quick squeeze and then held the straps. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Feet up.”
Heart pounding, she lifted her knees as the ground raced toward her, and Garth braced himself as his feet touched down.
Chapter Three
The wind caught the parachute and forced them to take a few steps forward, and Chloe gasped. Then he slid out the clips at her shoulder and waist and released her. Stunned that she’d landed without breaking her neck, she squealed with relief and exhilaration. She threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He laughed and hugged her, and it reminded her of how he’d pressed his lips against hers in the plane, his arm tight around her waist. When she’d asked him if he always kissed the women who got panic attacks, he’d said, “Not so much.” Had he told her the truth? She didn’t know him well enough to trust him.
She stepped back, and he lifted his dark sunglasses onto his hair. His warm eyes glowed with humor and something else…admiration? “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He unclipped his harness and turned to draw in the parachute.
“Nothing matches up to it,” she said, quoting his earlier words.
He grinned and then motioned with his head toward the main airport building. The tiny terminal had only one gate, but it also had a coffee bar and a waiting area. “Fancy a cup of something before you leave? To bring you back down to earth?”
Her cheeks warmed. “Sure.”
“Get changed, then. I’ll be over in a minute.”
In a daze, she headed for the small building with “Sky High” emblazoned above the door.
“Still in one piece?” asked Huia, the Māori woman at the desk.
“Only just.” Chloe’s heart continued to race, the adrenalin shooting through her veins. “It was fantastic,” she admitted. “I’m surprised how much I enjoyed it.”
“Why surprised?”
Chloe unclipped her harness. “I’m not a risk taker. I don’t know how Garth does it all the time.”
Huia came forward to help lift off the harness and carried it over to the hooks on the wall to hang up. “Yeah, I know. Can you imagine being married to someone who jumps out of a plane for a living? I’d have a heart attack five times a day.”
Chloe hadn’t thought of that. She frowned at Huia’s words. It didn’t matter how many precautions he took, every time Garth pulled a parachute cord, he put himself at risk. She’d jumped in an effort to prove that her sensible lifestyle was just that, sensible, and not boring as Ethan had insisted. But she shivered at the idea of living with someone involved in such an unstable occupation.
Still, she couldn’t help but be curious about Garth. “Is he married?”
“No. Why, are you interested? I wouldn’t blame you. He’s hot enough to fry eggs on.”
He pushed himself off and came in to help her tug the tight jumpsuit from her shoulders. She wriggled out of it, unable to look at Huia, too embarrassed at having asked if he was married.
He’d already shucked his own jumpsuit and wore khaki shorts and an All Blacks shirt. He waited for her to hang her suit up on the peg. “Ready?”
“Sure.” Feeling strangely light in her thin navy trackpants and white vest, she flashed Huia a smile and followed him out of the premises and across to the main terminal. He held the door open for her, and she preceded him into the small building.
At the coffee bar, she studied the coffee list awkwardly. She should have said no to his offer for a drink. She didn’t want him to think she was interested in him.
Yeah, said the devil on her shoulder. But if you’re not interested at all, why’s your heart pounding?
“Shut up,” she mumbled.
Garth glanced at her. “Pardon?”
“Nothing.” She bit her lip.
He looked back at the list. “What would you like? My treat for being so brave.”
She tried to think, but being in such close proximity to him scrambled her brain. He towered over her, which was no mean feat when she reached five foot nine in her bare feet. He must be six two or three. Mmm. She glowed inside at the memory of his lips on hers but forced her attention back to the list. “Double shot espresso, please.”
His eyebrows rose. “You a caffeine junkie?”
“A bit. I like my coffee dark and rich.”
“Like your men?” He grinned.
“Maybe. Are you rich?” She had to stop flirting. She lowered her lashes to avoid looking into his amused, interested gaze.
“Now that would be telling. You might only want me for my money.”
“True. Best not tell me, then.”
He laughed and ordered a latte, and they took a seat on either side of one of the small, round tables by the window. Outside, the Air New Zealand plane from Auckland taxied in. The tarmac shimmered in the heat. A trail of sweat ran between her breasts, and she suppressed the urge to scratch it.
He leaned back in his seat, one arm hooked over the back, his long legs in the cargo shorts stretched out before him, crossed at the ankle. He smiled.
“What?” she asked self-consciously.
“I’m thinking about what you said. ‘Too much excitement sends me into overload.’ It’s a strange thing to say when you’ve just jumped out of a plane.”
She played with the packets of sugar. “Jumping out of a plane wasn’t my idea.”
“I thought you did it to prove the bastard he was wrong.”
“Well, yes, I did, kind of. But my friend Stella suggested it.”
He raised his eyebrows, obviously demanding more details, and she sighed. “I split up with my ex a while ago, and I’ve been a bit depressed. He accused me of being dull and boring because I don’t like taking risks. I admit I’m not impulsive or spontaneous.” She shrugged. “But I don’t see it as boring. I’m sensible and down-to-earth, and usually I’m happy with that. I like being me. But what he said—it struck a nerve, that’s all. So Stella booked this jump to try and convince me he was wrong.”
Of course that wasn’t the only reason she’d broken up with Ethan. But she didn’t want to admit the whole truth. That she’d left him because she’d loved and trusted him and had loaned him all her savings, and he’d spent all the money. And of course the small matter of discovering him in bed with a bimbo. The embarrassment and humiliation hadn’t yet faded. No way would she admit all this to the gorgeous Garth.
“And did it? Convince you he was wrong about being boring, I mean?”
“Not really. You saw me—I was terrified. It took some careful...manipulation for you to get me out of the plane.”
He grinned at her choice of words. “‘Manipulation’ or not, you still jumped.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
He leaned forward then, forearms on the table a foot away from her, and looked into her eyes. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. When a person pushes themselves to do something that scares them, the gloves come off. In a situation like that, where you’re waiting to leap out of a tin bucket fourteen thousand feet up in the air, a person’s true nature shows itself. And do you know what I saw in your eyes?”
He was bullshitting her, but she couldn’t look away. “What?”
“Desperation.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“No, you misunderstand me. You were desperate to make that jump. You want to be impulsive and spontaneous, deep down. You’re a thrill seeker, same as me.”
She opened her mouth to respond and then hesitated as the waitress delivered their coffees. She sipped the strong espresso. Only then did she reply, “I’m really not.”
He leaned back, taking a swallow of his latte. “If you say so.”
They studied each other for a moment. His broad shoulders led to muscular brown arms and large, strong hands. The new, skin-tight All Blacks rugby tops were not for the faint-hearted. They showed off every ounce of fat on the wearer, but emphasized Garth’s lean, toned body perfectly, the material clinging to sculpted muscle. Fine brown hairs highlighted his tanned legs. She raised her gaze back to his just in time to see him looking at her breasts before his eyes met hers. The amusement had vanished from them, and now they positively sizzled.
Chloe gulped her coffee. This reckless risk-taker was the absolute last thing she wanted in her life. The sooner she finished her drink and left, the better.
Chapter Four
Garth met Chloe’s eyes and saw the shutters came down. Her body language spelled it out—whereas before she’d been leaning forward on the table, eyes dancing, now she leaned back and folded her arms, and the light in her eyes dulled. She’d decided not to nurture the spark that had sprung up between them.
The chase had never been the part of a relationship that interested him. Also, he had enough emotional baggage to fill the luggage claim area of the airport, so her obvious reluctance should have made him decide to end it there.
It didn’t.
Her phrase “Too much excitement sends me into overload” intrigued him. She’d been thrilled after the jump. He knew another thrill seeker when he saw one. But she was obviously determined to deny any desire to take a risk.
He swirled the coffee in his cup. “What’s so scary about being impulsive?”
She looked at the plane outside the terminal. The flight assistant lowered the steps and passengers began to cross the tarmac. “My mother’s Bipolar Type I. She’s reckless enough for the both of us.”
Ah. That made sense. He didn’t know anyone personally who was bipolar, but he understood enough about the condition to realize why she craved stability. “That must be difficult for you.”
She continued to watch the passengers, although she’d fixed her gaze in the distance. “It’s not so bad now I understand what’s wrong with her. It was harder as a youngster. Being promised a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Disneyland, only to have it cancelled at the last minute because she couldn’t cope with the journey. Coming up with all these great, enthusiastic ideas for businesses, hobbies, places to go, which invariably ended up being unfulfilled.”
She met his gaze then. “Having a steady stream of men through the house, each one the man of her dreams, whether the relationship lasted for one year or one night. I counseled her through numerous heartbreaks, even to the point of talking her out of suicide.” Sh
e spoke firmly, full of conviction. “I’m not going to be like that.”
“I see.” She was worried about turning into her mother. Fair enough. But using it as an excuse never to do anything impulsive meant missing out on the excitement of spontaneity. And yet she’d done the jump because she’d been hurt that her ex had interpreted her sensible lifestyle as boring. She wanted to be exciting but was afraid where it might lead.
As a man who very much valued his freedom, he had to battle with the urge to help her discover her impulsive streak.
He decided to tease her. “So you’ve never had a one-night stand, then?”
Her eyes widened. “Honestly. I’ve known you for less than an hour and you’re asking questions about my sex life.”
“Just curious.”
Her lips curved. They’d been soft under his, and she’d obviously had a piece of chocolate before she’d got on the plane because he’d been able to taste the sweetness of it. He wanted to kiss her again.
“Stop it,” she scolded him. “Jeez, you’re an incorrigible flirt. It might work on all the other women you come across, so to speak, but it’s not going to work on me.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame.”
She bit her bottom lip, and he suspected she was fighting a smile. He held his hand up in submission. “Okay, I’m sorry. I don’t normally flirt like this. I’m a bit out of practice. You appear to bring out the worst in me.” He decided to change tack. “Tell me more about why you smell of chocolate. You said you are a chocolatier?”
“Yes, I’m a qualified chocolate taster.” She laughed as he widened his eyes. “I know, terrific job, isn’t it? The equivalent of a guy taking photographs of lingerie models for a living, I would think.”
Images of Chloe Jackson in various pieces of lingerie flickered through his mind. Sheesh. He was only human. Why did she insist on tormenting him like this? No wonder the urge to flirt kept rising to the fore. “Where do you work?”
“A small chocolate factory in Whangarei. It’s a bit of a commute, but I’m happy to travel for now because I like living in the Bay of Islands. I love being near the sea. I go for a swim most mornings in the summer.”
Summer Fling Page 2
