by Beth Mikell
Something about his eyes made her wary. The urge to step back and sprint toward escape gushed through her, yet she could not move. Her legs were glued firmly in place, waiting for the next smooth words from his lips.
Mentally, she shook herself, and focused. “Very well Mr. Sinclair. I’ll ride with you.” She had her phone, right? She could call for help if need be, but she hated to see Harry’s reaction when she announced her plan. He was as protective as Uncle Duck used to be. “Let me tell the crew.” Brooke sidestepped him and breathed a sigh of relief, only because he took her breath over a mountain of thin air, and scalded her hot.
The man unsettled her.
As she sat next to him in the back seat of his Hummer, his driver followed the Ascent vehicles to the launch site. She thought of Harry’s reaction. He had been angry, but he had finally relented. Following protocol was his military staple and deviation warranted a great penalty. After a few sad moments with her eyes, he finally conceded, God bless him. Sitting next to Damon now, she wondered about her sanity.
He broke the heavy silence. “How long have you been flying?”
Her throat tightened when she found him staring at her—like a meal waiting to be served up. Brooke tried to swallow back the feeling and her right hand reached up to twist the stray hair at her ear.
“I’ve been going up in hot air balloons since I was six, flying at fourteen under supervision. I took my first solo by eighteen. I guess you could say I’ve grown up with it,” she said, shrugging as if the knowledge was no big deal.
“Wasn’t that dangerous for a child?” His eyes revealed nothing, yet he studied her.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “Perhaps, but my late Uncle Duck was very careful and Harry always accompanied us. Plus, I was tethered to the craft for safety, so I never gave it much thought. Is this what you are worried about, Mr. Sinclair? Determining if my ability is genuine?” She did not bother masking her irritation. “I can assure you, I have more than enough flight time under my belt as well as a degree in aviation to back up my experience. I am also a licensed airplane pilot. You’re in capable hands.” Brooke could have sworn his eyes widened ever so slightly, but as she blinked, his facial expression remained passive.
“Capable, Ms. Stone?” He reached for one of her hands, then he caressed her skin.
She drew a sharp breath, and her heart stabbed her chest with an unexpected pain. She peered down at their joined hands, shocked by how his engulfed hers so perfectly. His warmth and the circular motion of his thumb swished her blood faster through her veins. However, she could not pull her hand away, mesmerized by the link of flesh-to-flesh. Obscure electricity sang through her body, firing hotter than the afterburners on a turbo jet plane. Her pulse beat rampant until she had no choice but to drag air into her deprived lungs.
“Such a strong, fine, elegant hand, Ms. Stone,” Damon whispered. “It makes me wonder what other things you are capable of?” His closed expression revealed nothing.
Her eyes met his, yet the constriction in her chest tightened more. “I—I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Sinclair, I am quite possibly the most boring woman in existence.”
She felt like a gangly girl with big feet and not a lick of grace within her body. Heck, an elephant could blaze a catwalk with diva style before she could. And why did he care? She thought he wanted a list of her credentials, not a strange feel-up in the backseat of his Hummer.
His hand stilled before his shoulders shook with a chuckle. “I’m sure you’re mistaken, Ms. Stone. Though I’ve only just met you, somehow I stand in complete admiration of your abilities.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Really, Mr. Sinclair,” Brooke began dryly. “We’ve barely spent ten minutes together, which is hardly enough time to admire anyone for legitimate reasons.”
He matched her raised brow, his eyes crinkling. “Oh? Do you think I have illegitimate reasons in mind?”
She paled. “I don’t know you.” An unmatched fear frosted her insides. While she found him incredibly delicious to look at—he knocked her off balance.
“I’d like to know you better,” he rasped.
Could he hear her altered breathing, or feel how clammy her hand was? Taken by surprise, Brooke could not imagine a reply, but happily, the Hummer slowed, and she glanced at the road ahead. They had reached the launch site, and somehow a ‘thank God’ was in order.
Brooke snatched her hand back, staring ahead. “Sorry, Mr. Sinclair, but we have arrived. Ascent maintains a high regard of excellence and professionalism. If you don’t mind, please respect the boundaries therein.” She flicked her cool violet gaze to him, daring him to intimidate her. “I am simply your pilot and you are my paying guest. Excuse me.” Without a look back, she flung open the Hummer door and left with an air of irritation.
She’d had friendly interest from men, seeking her company, usually for sex. Though she knew absolutely nothing about him except for his name, he treated her so delicately—so much like a woman. Something she had never experienced before in her life. Having grown up with Uncle Duck and Harry, she never had much in the way of feminine guidance. Not until Jennifer bull-horned it into her head via crazy ventures in extreme shopping and sexy nightclub escapades, ending with too much drinking and dancing. Still, she wasn’t womanly. Why did Damon Sinclair show her a tenth of his charm? She shook her head, annoyed.
Jake stepped in front of her, and concern etched his face. “How’s the headache?”
“All gone.” Instead of dwelling on personal issues, Brooke summoned her business façade. “Jake, please gather all the passengers and begin the meet and greet. I want to help set up and begin preflight checks.”
He nodded. “Will do.”
She made her way to one of the five vans to help offload the hot air balloon equipment, focused on her task. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mr. Sinclair did not join the other passengers, but he leaned up against his Hummer, watching her. She was in no mood to request that he join the meet and greet.
Two balloons were going up. One medium sized balloon called Summer Jamboree with a party of four passengers. The other was her baby, Slippery Lady, the smaller balloon for single or private rides.
Just for her and Mr. Sinclair.
She focused on the tasks as familiar as breathing. Brooke helped to assemble the aircraft. The process took about ten minutes from start to finish, and she tried hard to prolong it, but Harry handed her the preflight checklist, making her that much closer to her alone time with one beautiful man.
“All clear, Lady Bug?” Harry asked.
She looked up, and ticked the last box, signing the checklist. “Go flight.” Brooke handed the clipboard to Harry with apprehension drowning her.
She drew a deep breath and found Damon beside the aircraft, ready to board without an expression on his handsome face.
She smiled, not brightly, but in a pleasant business-casual way. “Please board the aircraft, Mr. Sinclair.”
With ease, he climbed into the basket with sleek elegance and he was now close enough she could smell his delicious scent. Her body went haywire. She wanted a taste test.
He still did not speak to her, and unease flourished. “Welcome aboard and please enjoy your flight.” Within moments, Brooke gave the thumbs up to her ground crew and they released the aircraft’s tether. With her hand on the gauge, they lifted off.
Chapter 2
As Damon faced away from Brooke, she manned her aircraft, fighting his close proximity. A heavy silence threaded through the air. With her altimeter in hand, she checked the altitude and GPS, moving the gauges for climb, descent, and level flight until they reached one thousand feet. The wind could send them a little higher, but for the most part, the weather was perfect.
Except for the man beside her.
Why did he unnerve her? Why did she care? She was determined to enjoy the flight. “Is everything to your liking, Mr. Sinclair?” Finally, he turned to her, his gaze stabbed straight through her. De
spite the cooler air temperature, she flashed hot.
“Yes. It’s very beautiful.”
Brooke got the feeling he was not speaking of the downward view, or the upwards outstrip of earth’s other wonder toward the heavens. Her lips turned up into a genuine smile, and her eyes looked out into the distance. The light wind whipped her ponytail gently, while small tendrils caressed over her cheeks.
The best part was coming… the sun dipping into the horizon with bold splashes of orange-yellow piercing the sky. In all her years of flying, she never tired of the beauty. Or how the sinking prisms blazoned with remarkable splendor called sunset.
The perfect creation and never two the same.
As Brooke kept watch on her instruments, Damon pulled out a small camera from his jacket pocket and held it up. “May I?”
“Of course. We encourage guests to take photos,” she offered, so sure he would have understood that had he participated in the meet and greet, but whatever. Apparently, he was the master of his universe kind of man.
He shot pictures in all directions and she suspected he took some of her. Brooke wanted to begin a conversation, but a ding on her GPS went off. They had neared their landing site. She reached for her radio and flipped it ON, preparing and stowing necessary items as they descended lower and lower toward the ground.
Mr. Sinclair still did not speak to her. He had plenty to say on the ride to the launch site. With a heavy sigh and pilot hat in place, she looked him straight in the eye and said, “Prepare for landing.”
Her radio blared with Harry’s voice, “You’re looking good, Lady Bug. Keep her steady, but then you already know that.”
Brooke unclipped her radio from her belt, pressing the button, “Thanks Harry. See you in a few.”
She steered them to their landing site, as the chase cars gathered and waited. Flipping her gaze to Damon, she found him still watching her. “Hold the rope handle at your back, please. We will drag and bump along before we come to a complete stop. Please wait until the basket tips over before exiting—I’ll tell you when.”
He only inclined his head.
Exasperation knocked her insides. Why wouldn’t he speak to her? Her mental temper tantrum wanted answers. Instead, she focused on the landing. The wind picked up a bit, and shot them over the desired point. They skipped and dragged until finally they came to a stop, the basket tipping over.
“Are you okay?” Brooke lay beside him, overtaken by the sweetest expression etched on his face, while staring into his eyes.
What was it about him? What drew her in?
A half smile edged his mouth. “Perfect now. Thank you. I really enjoyed that and I can see why so many have praised the experience.”
He spoke!
She frowned. “May I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he said simply, rolling up on his elbow.
His action brought him closer, and a tight constriction pinched her chest. “Why didn’t you speak to me while we were up there?” She pointed up to the sky for emphasis. Damon caressed down her cheek, and her breath caught.
“Because you needed to focus on what you were doing and I didn’t want to distract you.”
He was… so considerate. And his touch so… warm and definitely welcomed. Her breath hitched a little higher, burning through her chest and she wanted more. She may have only met Mr. Damon Sinclair, but he had her attention. But she internally shook her head at the notion.
He was way out of her league—too cosmopolitan, suave, and frankly—too damned gorgeous to be interested in her.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
His velvet voice and his breath whispered over her cheek as he spoke. He warmed a deep, unidentified place inside her. Excitement burst through her belly. Before she could wrap her mind around an answer, the ground crew arrived, breaking the spell.
Instead of fainting at his knees, she busied her hands with taking down Slippery Lady, ignoring the urgings of her womanly inner self to jump at his invitation.
She never enjoyed one part of her body, or thought any handsome man would find her attractive. If he did, then it was a given, such a man was only seeking entertainment. Men sought after petite, redheaded, vibrant Jennifer… not her. How many times had they been out together, only to be overlooked and passed over? Men wanted her best friend. Surely, this moment fell into such a category and she would only end up in tears.
Brooke found Damon with her eyes and he was enjoying his champagne toast, a tradition that began in France nearly two hundred years ago—still offered up today as a means of celebration. He was deep in conversation with Harry, a pleasant exchange, if gauging the smile that appeared on Damon’s face and Harry’s laugh. Odd, Uncle Harry rarely laughed. Well, except with her, but he was like a second father. With a shake of her head, she focused on business.
The caravan stood ready to go and Jake moved beside her. “Wanna ride back with me?”
Brooke flipped her gaze up to her friend, not relishing the idea of listening to him recount stories of his antisocial neighbor, Mr. Lee. She did not have any nerves left and she would rather ride with Harry. Except for the country station kicking out from the radio, Harry was not much of a talker. “Well, I—”
“Ms. Stone, may I have a word?” Damon stepped forward.
Startled, Brooke did not realize he had approached. More unexpected was his cloudy, fierce expression, and the strained stance of his body.
“Yes,” she said. She was captivated, unable to take her eyes from his and she wondered why he appeared so angry. “Excuse me, Jake.”
Damon’s face remained impassive, waiting for the other man to walk away before he began, “Good friend of yours?”
His gaze bore deep into her, yet unreadable. Brooke lifted an eyebrow unnerved by his reaction. “Jake? He’s just a friend, why?”
Where was he going with this? Possessive already? She hadn’t even said yes to his dinner invitation. Why the drama?
His shoulders visibly relaxed and his lips curved into a half-smile. “No particular reason. He just seems… clingy.” Damon flipped a sideways glare toward the retreating back of her friend before pinning her with his eyes.
Jake? Clingy? She never thought so. “We work together Mr. Sinclair—fellow pilots and whatnot. I have known him for about a year now. Jake is harmless.”
Why she was explaining her work relationship to a complete stranger failed to make sense, but at least it gave her one last moment to check out the mighty fine Mr. Sinclair before they said goodbye. The man was definitely eye candy inside his leather jacket and amazing green eyes. Jennifer would approve!
His tongue ran over the rim of his teeth, as if contemplating her words. “Harmless? Doubtful, Ms. Stone.” He stepped closer and did not give her a chance to speak. “Have you given any thought to my invitation? Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
He was so relentless.
Without thinking, her fingers came up to twist the stray tendrils at her ear, winding them softly around the end of her finger. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Sinclair, but I have plans tonight.” Why he made her so nervous, she did not know.
His eyes widened fractionally in surprise. “Can’t you reschedule? I would really like the opportunity to get to know you.” He took another step closer.
Her eyes dilated and a strange tightness constricted her chest again, throwing her off balance. She was caught and held solely by his earnest expression and insistent request. Everything in her begged her to say ‘yes,’ but common sense refused. The battle of wills was on. But compromise won.
“Mr. Sinclair, since we just met, I hardly think that warrants a first date. For all I know, you are a serial killer. If you are up for the challenge, I am meeting some friends at Looney’s. You are welcome to join us.” Brooke did not know why she offered, but as she spoke, his facial expression softened.
“First of all, Ms. Stone, I accept your first date fears and commend you on your wise choice with a public setting, thoug
h if I wanted to harm you—a public place wouldn’t stop me.” A smile flitted over his lips and his green eyes glowed with a mysterious gleam, only to disappear into a solemn look. “I accept your challenge and I will see you there later.”
She blanched.
Was he joking?
An uncommon fear bloomed in her, along with a surge of excitement at seeing him again. “Is that subtle threat, Mr. Sinclair?”
He grinned. “Subtle? No. I have no wish to harm you, Ms. Stone, though every wish to know you better. I think a drink in a noisy, crowded bar the perfect backdrop, don’t you?”
“Very well, I’ll see you sometime after ten.”
Damon inclined his head, looking like a cat that swallowed the sweetest cream. “Shall I take you back to Ascent?”
Just what she couldn’t handle, another close proximity moment with him. “Thank you, but no, Mr. Sinclair. I need to speak to Harry and will ride with him.” She instantly regretted it because he was wildly handsome, and smelled so, so good.
He accepted, and he stepped closer, running his fingertip down her cheek. “Until later, Ms. Stone.”
Breathe, she told herself, but she could not. The heat of his touch sizzled through her body, burning straight through her. “Until later…” she whispered, unable to look away from him, though he stepped back.
“Goodbye, Ms. Stone.”
****
Jennifer West’s apartment was two blocks from Looney’s on Main Street in Bel-Air—and close enough to walk in case of a drunken stupor. The vibrant redhead insisted on the best in everything, and the penthouse was as swanky as she could get. She could afford it, or rather her parents could. Her father was a big shot divorce attorney and her mother a judge. Overall, she had the crème de la crème of comfortable living. She currently held an entry-level position for an advertising firm and Jennifer was enjoying her rise to rich and famous—rocking brands diva style.
It was almost eight-thirty when Brooke knocked on her best friend’s door, though part of her wanted to run home to her apartment instead. However, all that awaited her there was endless worry over problems not easily solved. Uncle Duck’s debt fallout. Thoughts of Damon Sinclair and his unusual presence kept her intrigued.
