Lone Star Heartbreaker

by Anne Marie Novark

  Caitlyn stal ed for a moment, before answering. Here came the moment of truth. She adjusted her position on the hard seat of the chair. "Not exactly, but I'm a fast learner. You could show me, couldn't you?"

  "You've never operated an aerial applicator? How could I have missed that in the phone interview?" Tyler stared at the paper in his hand, glanced at the back, then the front again. "Okay, no problem. I can teach you. You do have your commercial license, right? Any tail-wheel experience?"

  "Yes, I've flown more than thirty hours and have my logbook endorsement. I can show it to you, if you want."

  He nodded. "Al right, that's acceptable. Tel me again what kind of aircraft you've flown."

  "Wel . . . my father owned a Cessna Skyhawk and a couple of Pipers. I've also flown an Edge 540, a Giles G-202 and an MX2. And the Pitts Special, before it broke down so completely."

  Tyler whistled under his breath. " That's the reason I wanted to hire you. If you can fly those planes, you should have no problem flying any of mine."

  Caitlyn couldn't help the pleasurable feeling his praise evoked. "Thanks."

  "And you should do fine flying applications. I'l train you. Now, if I can find the form for you to fil out, we'l be al set." One after another, Tyler slid open and slammed shut the desk drawers. In the last drawer he found what he'd been looking for, holding up a crumpled sheet of paper. "Final y!" He smoothed it out on the top of his desk before handing it to her. "Here's an application for employment. Fil it out and you'l be good to go."

  Caitlyn took the paper from him. "Just like that? You don't want to see me fly?"

  He shrugged. "To be honest, I'm desperate for a pilot. My business is sinking fast. The spring planting is done. That means our busiest time of year for spraying pesticides and herbicides is already underway. You said you could fly anything, anywhere. I believe you. You've answered my main questions. Interview's over. Just fil out the paperwork, and it'l be a done deal."

  He handed her a pen. "Oh, and you can park your rig behind hangar number two. There are hookups and even a dump station. Make yourself at home. And welcome to Lone Star Wings."

  ****

  Caitlyn set up "camp" that afternoon. Pete showed her where to park her truck and helped her with the hook-ups, even though she assured him she could do it herself, and then he left her to her own devices.

  Looking at her watch, she decided to head into town to get a bite of dinner and maybe pick up a few groceries. She cal ed to Reba and coaxed her inside the air-conditioned camper where she'd be safe while Caitlyn was gone. Pete had warned her about animal traps out in the pasture.

  "Don't want her to get caught up in one, ma'am," the kid had said. "Best to keep a careful watch on her until she gets used to the area."

  Caitlyn rubbed Reba's ears and kissed her nose. "I won't be long, girl. Rest here inside and I'l be back before you know it." She set out food and water, then grabbed her helmet and purse and set off to town on her smal scooter.

  The scooter traveled inside the camper when she was on the road. Having another mode of transportation made it easier, so she didn't have to unhook the water and electricity every time she needed to make short trips while she was camping.

  The breeze felt good on her face as she turned off the dirt road onto the pavement winding its way to Salt Fork, the smal town situated about ten or twelve miles from the airfield. She'd seen a cafe when she'd passed through earlier in the day. Pul ing into the crowded parking lot--guess everyone had decided to grab a bite of dinner--Caitlyn locked her bike, hung her helmet on the handlebars, finger-combed her hair, and with a deep breath for courage, opened the glass door and walked inside.

  She had always felt shy and somewhat conspicuous when she went somewhere by herself, like restaurants or movie theaters. Now that she was alone and on her own, this was something she was trying very hard to overcome.

  "I'l be with you in a sec, honey," the waitress cal ed from behind the counter.

  Caitlyn looked around the cheerful y decorated cafe with the large windows curtained with red gingham-checked fabric, the chrome tables and chairs, the lunch counter with those old-fashioned swivel stools and red-leathered booths lining the wal s. Nice and home-like. She'd bet her last dol ar the food was delicious.

  "Hey, Caitlyn! Over here!"

  She whirled around, startled to hear her name cal ed out in a place where she'd never been before. Pete Lafferty stood at one of the tables, waving her over. Again, she thought what a good-looking kid he was. He'd be dangerously handsome in a few years when he matured a bit.

  Sitting across from him was Tyler McCade. He smiled and waved her over, too. "Come on and join us."

  Caitlyn made her way to the table and stood for a moment. "I don't want to intrude."

  Tyler nudged a chair back with his foot. "You're not intruding. We would have asked you along, but decided to let you get settled in, didn't we, Pete?

  Sit down and stay a while."

  "Okay. If you're sure." Caitlyn took her seat and set her purse on the floor near her feet. When she straightened, she accidental y knocked against Tyler's crutches that were balanced on the table next to her chair. They clattered to the floor with a loud crash.

  "Oh crap!" She made a grab for them, only to bump heads with Tyler who was also making a grab for them.

  For one frozen moment, Caitlyn crouched nose to nose with her new boss. So close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. His sapphire blue eyes gleamed like jewels beneath dark-lashed lids.

  Caitlyn's mouth went dry. "I . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . uh, get in your way."

  "No problem." He smiled and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Caitlyn's breath caught in her throat from the impact of the sensual heat now blazing in his eyes. She couldn't believe the strong chemistry arcing between them. And they'd just met, for crying out loud.

  "Hey, what are two doing down here?" Pete said, bending low to look at them both under the table. He was smiling wide as al get out. "It's awful y lonely up there al by myself."

  "We're coming." Tyler winked at her, then snagged his crutches and straightened in his chair. He set them against the other side of the table.

  When they'd al resumed their seats, Caitlyn picked up her menu and tried to stil her fluttering heart. "So, any recommendations about what to order?"

  "Chicken-fried steak," the two men said in unison.

  Caitlyn laughed. "Chicken-fried steak it is."

  ****

  After Sarah Sue jotted down their orders and took away their menus, Tyler tried to relax in his chair. He listened to the conversation going on between Pete and Caitlyn. They were talking a mile a minute, with laughter and smiles zinging back and forth. They'd real y hit it off.

  If Tyler didn't know better, the strange sensation in the pit of his stomach might be classified as envy or jealousy. Which was ridiculous. Pete was a good ten years younger than Caitlyn. And there was nothing flirty going on. Not that he cared, one way or another. He'd only just met the woman.

  Except that didn't seem to matter. It had been lust at first sight for him. And she was obviously not immune. Not if that sexual y tense moment under the table was anything to judge by.

  Not a good situation, considering he was her boss. Mixing business with pleasure was a recipe for disaster, and he couldn't afford any more disasters. He'd already had more than his fair share recently.

  But damn, he was attracted to the woman. After months of being grounded, his body had suddenly gone into overdrive, al systems go. Ready for takeoff. He shifted in his seat, trying to ease the discomfort in his groin. Oh yeah, al systems were go al right. He needed to retract the landing gear and fast.

  "You okay, Tyler?" Pete asked, shooting him a curious look.

  "Just fine. Hungry, that's al ." Not only for food, but Tyler couldn't say that of course. Thank God, Sarah Sue arrived at the table carrying a tray with their dinners.

  "Here you go," she said. Using a potholder, she p
laced a steaming plate in front of each of them. "Careful now, it's hot. I'l bring the bread in a minute. Anything else y'al need?"

  "Could I have ketchup?" Pete asked, taking a bite of french-fry.

  "Sure thing, honey. Anything for my little sweetie-pie."

  The kid colored up and stuffed another fry in his mouth. Sarah Sue winked and walked back to the kitchen.

  Caitlyn smiled and caught Tyler's eyes on her, but he looked away and focused on his meal. Pete had already consumed half his dinner. They ate in silence, and no wonder. The chicken-fried steak was to die for. "Oh my God. This is the best chicken-fried steak I've ever eaten."

  Tyler finished chewing a bite and slowly wiped his mouth before speaking. Caitlyn tried not to stare at his sculpted lips playing peek-a-boo from behind the napkin. "Wait until you taste her pecan pie," he said. "You'l think you've died and gone to heaven."

  Pete nodded. "And don't forget her cinnamon rol s. They're awesome!"

  "Now I understand why the parking lot is so ful . The food is fabulous." Caitlyn dipped a bite of steak in the thick creamed gravy. Oh yeah.

  Delicious.

  Pete's cel phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket and looked at the number. "It's my mom. Excuse me."

  Caitlyn watched Pete make his way to the door and then turned back to Tyler. "His mother certainly has done a great job with him. He's such a gentleman. Wonderful manners."

  Tyler set his fork down and took a sip of iced tea. "Mrs. Lafferty's raised her three kids by herself. Pete's dad died when the boy was pretty little. Al the kids have grown to be responsible adults. Pete's the youngest and the last one left at home."

  Before Caitlyn could comment, Pete returned to the table.

  "Sorry about that. I have to leave. Mom's having plumbing problems and can't get the water turned off." He tossed a couple of bil s on the table and stuffed his wal et back in his pocket. He looked at Caitlyn. "Do you think you could give Tyler a ride back home? I don't know how long this wil take me."

  A french-fry lodged in her throat at the thought of Tyler sitting behind her on her scooter, his hard lean body pressed close to hers. She swal owed the fry with difficulty. "I'd love to, except I'm riding my scooter and it's not very big."

  Pete's eyes opened wide. "You ride a scooter? That's cool."

  Caitlyn had to smile at his enthusiasm. "Yes, so I can get around while my camper is hooked up. Saves time. Uh . . .couldn't we . . . uh, cal a taxi for Tyler?"

  The kid grinned. "There's no taxi service here in Salt Fork."

  Caitlyn was aware of Tyler's gaze on her. "But my scooter is smal . How would we manage his crutches?"

  "We'l manage." Tyler picked up Pete's money and handed it back to him. "Here. Take it. This one's on me. And don't worry. I'm sure that between us both, Caitlyn and I wil figure out a way to get me home. Give my best to your mom."

  Pete grabbed his cap, smoothed back his hair and slipped it on his head. "Thanks, Tyler. See you tomorrow." He strode off toward the door.

  Caitlyn pushed her plate away, her hunger suddenly vanished. " How wil we manage? You have a hard enough time just walking."

  "I won't be walking much, now wil I?"

  "How wil you even get on the scooter? You're obviously not flexible or ambulatory."

  "Are you always this negative? It's just a scooter ride. I'l be fine."

  Caitlyn shot up from her chair. "I'l wait for you in the parking lot." She grabbed her purse and hurried to the counter where she paid for her meal.

  Once outside, she placed her purse in the compartment under the scooter seat--the seat she was shortly going to share with Tyler. The butterflies in her stomach started performing aerial acrobatics. Straddling her bike, she heaved a deep sigh. It was going to be a long ride back to the airfield.

  ****

  Could the trip home drag on any longer?

  Tyler clutched his crutches in one hand and held on with the other clamped tightly around Caitlyn's middle. Her warm soft middle. Every time she negotiated rough spots in the road, her breasts jostled against his arm. They felt firm and round, and Tyler had al he could do not to rotate his hand so he could cup one.

  Man, he was having a hard time here. A very hard time. The scooter was smal . Too smal . Caitlyn's tight little butt was jammed against his crotch.

  Every bump and rut in the road slammed their bodies closer together, producing an exquisite type of torture. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried unsuccessful y to ignore his body's sudden craving for this woman.

  If that wasn't bad enough, her scent was driving him crazy! A hint of lemon and something else he couldn't name made him want to inhale deeply so he could absorb it into his system. He wanted to absorb her into his system.

  Are we there yet? He wanted to whine like a kid, even though every sensation screaming through his body proved he was an adult.

  Conversation was impossible. And if they could talk, what would he say? Hey baby, want to get naked? Right.

  Tyler steeled himself to endure the uncomfortable ride back to the airfield. On the one hand, it was good to know his body was functioning sexual y again. He'd been worried there lately. At first, he'd been in so much pain, he hadn't noticed his lack of libido. But for his body to go on the alert now was damned inconvenient, because there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it at the moment.

  He real y needed to get back on his feet and return to the land of the living. And the loving. He missed having sex. He missed flirting with pretty women. Flirting was his default mode. Or it had been. Once upon a time . . .

  After what seemed like an eternity, they turned off the pavement and drove down the dirt road leading to the airfield. Caitlyn pul ed to a stop in front of his apartment and kil ed the engine. Before he could say a word, she took hold of his hand under her breast and deliberately moved it away from her body.

  Well, damn.

  As she removed her helmet, she started talking. "So, how do you think we should dismount? You first or me?" She hung the bright blue helmet on the handle bars, shook her head, and ran her fingers through her short tangle of hair, fluffing it--al with her back to Tyler. He could feel every movement of her body against his. He started sweating again. He had to get away from her before he embarrassed himself.

  "I'l go first," he said, his voice hoarse with repressed desire. "I'l have to hold on to your shoulders, like I did when I got on."

  Caitlyn nodded. "I'm ready whenever you are."

  Oh, I'm ready, sweetheart. Tyler almost grinned. Just the fact he'd thought such a suggestive comment lifted his mood considerably. He almost sounded like his old self.

  "Here, hold these." He handed her the crutches, then braced both hands on her slender shoulders, careful not to exert al his weight on her or his bum knee, as he careful y dismounted. Stil leaning on her, he waited until he balanced himself, then took the crutches from her.

  "Thanks for the ride," he said.

  Caitlyn sat there staring at Tyler her green eyes assessing him, her lush lips begging for a kiss. She cleared her throat and broke eye contact.

  "Wel , I need to get back to my camper and check on Reba." She started the scooter and rode around the corner of the hanger and out of sight.

  Tyler slowly made his way to his front door, pain slicing through his leg with every step--the result of bending it more than it was used to, combined with the awkward position he'd been forced to assume while sitting on the back of Caitlyn's scooter.

  His good mood vanished at the brutal reminder that nothing had real y changed. Just because he felt sexual y attracted to Caitlyn, didn't mean he was ful y recovered. Far from it. He stil had another couple of months of rehabilitation left, then the insurance money would run out. Would he be off the crutches by then?

  Before letting himself into his apartment, Tyler turned and gazed toward the hulk of the crashed plane stil sitting out in the field. Would he ever be limber enough to climb into the cockpit again? And if not, how would he live if h
e couldn't fly?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Caitlyn landed the Piper and taxied down the runway toward the maintenance hangar. She'd been up before dawn and with the wind final y dying down, she'd flown applications al day long. After almost three weeks of intensive training with Tyler on the ground and her in the air, she'd official y started flying applications for Lone Star Wings this past Monday.

  Today, she'd sprayed herbicide on several hundred acres of cotton up near the Cap Rock; fungicide on a couple hundred acres of peanuts to the south; and sulfur on two fields of melons on the other side of Salt Fork. Since there'd been no danger of cel phone towers or electrical power lines--

  Tyler's strict set of parameters for the jobs she could handle until she had more hours under her belt--Caitlyn had had plenty of time to perfect her skil s at crop-dusting.

  Only nowadays they cal ed it aerial applications. Tyler had been quick to correct her choice of words. Aerial applications. Not crop-dusting. Caitlyn secretly thought crop-dusting had a nicer ring to it. But Tyler was the boss.

  And he'd been doing his ever-loving best to keep that fact uppermost in both their minds, especial y after that sensual scooter ride on her first day at Lone Star Wings. Try as she might, she couldn't forget that ride. They'd been scrunched tightly together with her butt jammed right up against his .

  . . body. His hard aroused body. She'd barely been able to steer the bike what with being so hot and bothered.

  Maybe she'd imagined the sexual sparks bouncing back and forth between them. But he certainly hadn't wanted anything to do with her after that ride. Since then, they'd been tiptoeing around each other, not wanting to step across any imaginary lines, executing a delicate dance of avoidance.

  Tyler only talked to her when it was absolutely necessary. Which had made the three weeks of training quite stressful. His attitude only emphasized the problem of their sexual awareness for each other. His silence was almost deafening.