Flight Risk

by Karen Ann Dell

  “How about you? Do you like to fly?”

  “I, uh, no.” She shook her head and stared at her plate. “I don’t fly.” Not anymore.

  Owen studied her face. “That’s too bad. It’s an amazing feeling, being up above the clouds. Like leaving all the petty annoyances life hands you on the ground and being free to go anywhere you want.” He chuckled. “Of course, I’m seldom free to go anywhere I want anymore, but you get the idea.”

  Miranda saw the joy suffuse his whole being as he talked. His eyes shone, and his smile was a mile wide. It brought back memories. Fifteen-year-old memories of excitement and freedom and … disaster.

  “If you ever want to give it a go, I’d be glad to take you up.”

  “Thanks for the offer. Maybe someday.” Not.

  In an obvious effort to change the subject, Owen asked about her family. Which, in some respects, wasn’t really a change of subject at all. Of course, he didn’t know that.

  “Did you grow up in Atlanta?” he asked, pouring more wine into her glass.

  “No. I grew up in Melbourne, over on the east coast, just south of the Space Center.”

  “I guess you saw lots of launches then. I’m sorry I never got to be there for one.”

  “Yeah, I saw a lot of them. Night launches were the best. They are much more dramatic against the backdrop of the night sky. I still remember how the sound waves made the sliders in our house vibrate. I’m so sorry they stopped funding the shuttle program. After we landed on the moon, I thought we’d go on to visit all the other planets.”

  “Me, too.” Owen nodded enthusiastically. “I’d have been first in line to sign up for a trip to Mars, but by the time the idiots in Washington get their act together, I’ll be too old.”

  “You seem to be making an awesome career for yourself right here on Earth. Where do you call home?”

  “Philadelphia. Most of my family still lives there in the house I grew up in, although my only sister, Sky, lives down here now. She married AJ Reed and moved to Mimosa Key two years ago.”

  “AJ Reed, the Barefoot Bay Bucks pitcher?”

  Owen nodded, his mouth full of pasta.

  “Cool. Sky works out at the same gym I go to, although I don’t see her there as often as I used to.”

  “Yeah, she and AJ travel a lot during the off season. She was the one who convinced me to work on this promo deal with Casa Blanca.” He put down his fork and leaned back in his chair. “Dinner was delicious, Miranda, and I stuffed myself on a rare and wonderful home-cooked meal. Thank you.”

  Miranda made a dismissive gesture. “It was the least I could do to thank you for the rescue and apologize for this morning’s treatment.”

  “I guess we should get down to business then.” He stood to help her clear the table.

  “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  “My mother would have my ass if she ever heard I didn’t offer to help the hostess.”

  “Your mom sounds like a wonderful woman.”

  “She is. I’m lucky to have two terrific parents. You mentioned that Neil is your step-father. Are your parents divorced, or …”

  “My dad died when I was seventeen.” She gathered their plates and hurried to the kitchen. I watched him die, which is why I can’t fly anymore.

  Owen followed her, carrying the serving dishes and salad bowls. “I’m sorry about your dad. I’m guessing that you two were close.”

  Miranda merely nodded. “We had a great relationship.” Close? He was my teacher, and my friend, as well as my dad. I still think of him and miss him every single day.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Miranda brought her laptop to the table, and Owen handed over the flash drive.

  Talking about her father had put a damper on Miranda’s mood, and he wondered why, after such a long time, his passing still weighed so heavily on her spirit. Then he considered how devastated he still was being responsible for the deaths of those three little girls in Iraq—whom he didn’t even know—and he revised his opinion. He’d never been able to even talk about that drone mission to anyone. Miranda was subdued, but in light of his experiences, he could understand her feelings. He hoped getting down to business would bring back her smile.

  “Before I can begin to work on schedules,” he began, “it would be helpful if you could give me an idea of how many guests might be interested in the services I could provide.”

  “Right. So. I’ve been working the excursions desk for a little over a year, and while no guests have ever asked about charter flights directly, several have mentioned how the commercial flight schedules interfered with their plans to either stay longer or take side trips while they stayed with us.”

  “You think if we could work up a brochure highlighting the convenience of private flights, they might consider a charter for their next visit?”

  “Absolutely. We should put one in every room, and especially in the villas. Those guests have more money than God and would love to be able to come and go on their own whims.”

  “Okay, that’s first on the list, then.” Owen made notes on a pad he took from his jacket pocket. “Next, the side trip idea.”

  “I can tell you right off I’ve had a lot of requests during football season for transportation to Miami, Jacksonville and Tampa whenever there were games there. While I could provide limo service, the distances are so long that many guests skipped it rather than spending that much time on the road. Only true die-hard fans were willing to make the trip to J-ville, in particular.”

  “How many people would be interested in going to a game? A couple? Two couples? Groups of six or eight?”

  Miranda sighed. “I have to admit, I’m not sure, exactly. Since we couldn’t provide that kind of service I didn’t really keep track. I do remember a few couples using helicopter flights to Miami and to Key West for special events like Mardi Gras or Fantasy Fest.”

  “I hear Fantasy Fest is a pretty wild event down there.” Owen scribbled furiously on his pad.

  “Oh my God, it is awesome. Wild barely does it justice.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “So, you’ve been there during this, ah, festival?”

  At his interested expression, Miranda blushed. “I did go with a friend, last year. There’s a good deal of rowdy behavior, costumes that expose mostly, well, everything, and other activities that tend to go with the consumption of large amounts of alcohol.”

  She avoided looking directly at him during this recitation, which only aroused his curiosity even more. “Did you wear a costume?”

  Miranda shrugged. “Well, sort of. I hadn’t planned to, so I had to … kind of … make something up from what I brought with me.”

  “Which was?”

  “Nothing much,” she mumbled.

  Owen leaned forward, his elbow on the table, his chin cupped in his palm. “Tell me.”

  Miranda drew designs on the tablecloth with her fingertip, refusing to meet his gaze. “Um, I just used the top to my bikini, a big, sheer scarf my friend loaned me around my waist as a sarong, and flowers in my hair. It wasn’t anything special, really.”

  He’d bet there were men trailing behind her in droves. “I’m sorry I missed that.” He stilled her nervous fingers by covering her hand with his own. At his touch, her head jerked up, her doe eyes wide and her lips parted. His business sense fought a losing battle with his libido, and he leaned over and kissed her. The tiny sound she made as their lips touched lit a fire that arrowed straight to his crotch. This woman could knock him on his ass in more ways than one.

  Miranda broke their kiss but continued to gaze at him. Although the phrase was overused, her “deer in the headlights” expression was a perfect fit. She blinked several times, then stood and picked up the now empty wine bottle. “I’m going to get some water,” she said.

  The squeak in her voice made him smile.

  She rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “Can I get you anything? Water, coffee?”

  How about another kiss? A longer, hotter,
wetter one. Shit. He was being an ass. This was supposed to be a business meeting. “No, thanks, I’m good.” He used the few moments she was gone to get himself under control. What had they been talking about before …? Yeah, tourist excursions. He added Key West Fantasy Fest to his notepad. Disney World was a given. How about flights along the coast for an hour or so? Miranda had mentioned something about hot-air balloon rides, but he could trail the coastline without having to worry about wind direction. He also could head out over the gulf to fulfill his obligation to Mike to keep an eye out for boat traffic.

  When Miranda came back with her water, they silently agreed to ignore his kiss and stick to business. From time to time, Tinkerbelle piped up with her catchphrase, which made Miranda duck her head and scrunch her shoulders. She’d gone through a range of emotions since he arrived, particularly when they talked about flying. She smiled when he described his small fleet, yet a shadow hid behind the smile when he asked if she liked to fly. Lots of people were afraid to fly, but her face held more sorrow than fear. The snappy spitfire personality sputtered as though he’d thrown a bucket of cold water on her. He found himself wanting to know more about her. A lot more. While Mark didn’t want them seen together at the resort, there was no reason they couldn’t meet off site. He’d ask her out to dinner. It would be his first real date in months.

  They continued to work out excursion times and rates. Miranda usually upped the fees he proposed, insisting she knew the deep pockets they were dealing with better than he. He followed her lead, and the next few hours passed so quickly, he didn’t realize how late it had gotten until Tinkerbelle changed her tune to “Night, night, pretty girl. Sleep tight.”

  He looked out across her yard and discovered that the sun had set and the sky was ablaze with stars. “Nice view. There’s so much ambient light in the sky around the big cities, I never get to see this many stars unless I’m up in the air.”

  “It is awesome, isn’t it? Once you get away from the resort and walk along the beach, it’s magical. The dark water meets the sky as though there’s no horizon, and it’s like standing on the edge of the Earth and looking into heaven.” She had an embarrassed smile when she looked at him. “Good grief, I sound like I’m a freaking poet.”

  “Your description makes me want to see it firsthand. Would you be willing to give me the fifty-cent tour tomorrow night? I’ll spring for dinner, and we can walk along the beach afterward.”

  “I’m so sorry. I already have plans for tomorrow evening.”

  Of course she did. Guys had to be drawn to her like moths to candlelight. He was stupid to think he even had a chance after one horrendous mishap—thank you, Hank—and a few hours of business conversation.

  She waved a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Owen, come back, flyboy.”

  Her grin was infectious, and he responded in kind. It was impossible not to be caught up in her free-spirited enthusiasm. Too bad he—

  “I do have the next evening free, if you’ll still be here?”

  He would be, no matter how he had to juggle flight duties with Jack. I’ve got to find at least two more pilots.

  “I will be. Pick you up at six-thirty?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’d better get going, Miranda, and let you catch up on the sleep you missed last night.” He chuckled at her eye-roll. “Thanks for dinner.”

  She removed the flash drive from her computer and walked him to the door. “Thanks for bringing the wine. I hope this erased all the bad vibes from yesterday.”

  “Completely wiped,” he emphasized with a swipe of his hand. He wanted to kiss her goodbye, but common sense dissuaded him. He was halfway down the walk to his car before the desire to taste her lips one more time made him turn around.

  She opened the door to his knock with a puzzled frown on her face. “Did you forget something?”

  “I did.” He wrapped his hands around her biceps and tugged her up on her toes, then fitted his mouth to the “Oh” of surprise on hers. Warm, soft lips, pliable against his, parted to let him sweep his tongue inside. He was instantly hard as stone. With Herculean restraint, he set her back on her heels. “Good night, pretty girl,” he mimicked Tinkerbelle. “Sleep tight.”

  Her bemused expression made his step lighter as he went to his car. There was definitely something between them now. And it had nothing to do with business.

  He would give whoever was seeing Miranda tomorrow night a run for his money.

  ~~~

  “Hello, Arnold, it’s Eva Jansen. Do you have a few minutes to chat?”

  “Of course, Eva.” Arnold Courtenay had the smooth, sophisticated voice Eva Jansen associated with European royalty. “ You know I always have time for you. Is there a problem?”

  “That depends. Josie is not nearby, I assume?”

  Arnold chuckled. “No, she is out on the court playing tennis with her instructor. Clueless as always.”

  “Fine. Have you identified the photo I sent you?”

  “Yes, my source tells me the man is Mark Rossman, an FBI agent in the Tampa office. Why would he be meeting with the owner and security chief at your fancy resort?”

  “Exactly my question, Arnold. I don’t like it. I need you to put your diggers on him and on the pilot who flew us down here. His name is Owen Ziegfeld. There was a recording device in our cabin. Naturally, we didn’t speak of anything important, but I wondered if he normally monitored the passengers or if that recording was specifically for us.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this, Eva. Perhaps we should rethink our plans.”

  “No. I’ve spent months setting this operation up. I’m not going to let a few government snoops ruin it. I’ve told Harold I want to spend the winter months here, and he will babble about my silly wishes to everyone he meets. Once we establish a base here, then visiting with our good friends in Key West will be a natural side trip.”

  “And Harold is in agreement?”

  Eva scoffed. “Harold is in agreement with whatever I tell him. Once he finishes buying those illegal diamonds in Miami, we’ll have even more leverage to keep him under control.”

  “Excellent. I will have more information for you in a day or so, Eva. We still have time to change our minds if you feel our plan is too risky.”

  “You find out the risks, Arnold. I’ll take care of them. Give Josie my best.”

  “And mine to Harold. Always a pleasure working with you, Eva. I’ll stay in touch.”

  ~~~

  Miranda leaned against the rack of brochures describing every possible sight-seeing attraction in the area. She’d rearranged them to put the few that Owen had given her front and center. She wanted to make this cross-promotion between Argosy Charters and Casa Blanca work, and she would push his services to their guests as often as possible.

  Unconsciously, her hand went to her lips as she remembered their parting kiss. She wanted more of those. It took all of her resolve not to blow off her women’s defense class tonight and accept Owen’s offer of dinner. But she was committed to her training. Thank God he’d been able to take a twenty-four-hour raincheck.

  The phone on her desk beeped, and she hurried back to answer it. “Good morning, this is Miranda, how may I help you?”

  A male voice with a familiar British accent replied. “Good morning, Miranda. This is Hank Blackley. I am staying in the Rock Rose villa.”

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Blackley, what can I help you with?” Besides drugging innocent women. Miranda sat up straighter and pasted a pleasant smile on her face. Someone might be watching.

  The voice dropped to a whisper she could barely hear. “First, I must apologize about our—mishap. I—” His voice suddenly got much louder. “Yes, I’d like to rent a boat and guide to do some fishing out in the Gulf with my, ah, girlfriend and her family. There would be six of us in all. Would you have anything available for tomorrow? I realize it is rather short notice …”

  Miranda opened her top drawer to retrieve the slip of paper Mr.
Rossman had given her. “Yes, Mr. Blackley, I’m sure we can accommodate your request. The charter service we use would provide the equipment as well as lunch, drinks and snacks. If there are any special preferences as to food or drink, I would need to know those by noon today in order to have the crew take care of them.”

  “Excellent, excellent. I will check with the Jansens and get back to you with their preferences. How long will the excursion last?”

  “We have two packages, Mr.Blackley. The first is a four-hour rental from 10 a.m. until 2 p.m.” Miranda made the price up on the fly since Mark hadn’t told her what to charge. The money wasn’t coming out of Hank’s pocket, so who cared? “The other option is an eight-hour excursion with the same amenities, leaving at 10 and returning at 6 in the evening, for twenty-four hundred dollars.” She thought she heard Hank swallow and bit back a smile.

  “I believe the four-hour trip would be sufficient. We have other plans for the evening.”

  “Very well, sir. I’ll book the boat and await your list of food and drink preferences. The boat will leave from the dock at Pleasure Pointe at the south end of the key. One of our shuttles will transport you and your guests there. It will pick you up by the front doors at 9:30 tomorrow morning. If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to call our excursions desk again.”

  With a murmured thank you, Hank broke the connection.

  Miranda immediately dialed the number on the slip of paper. The man who answered wasn’t Mark Rossman, nor did he sound like someone in the hospitality industry. No friendly warmth in that voice. She gave him the information, told him she would call back later with the specifics and hung up. A little frisson of nerves trickled down her back. She felt as if she was in a spy thriller. It was kind of exciting.