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“Yes.”
I glance down at his hands, only to see he’s gripping his knees, his knuckles white. And that’s when I realize it. Ty Sterling, heartless business mogul, is afraid of heights. Or helicopters. Or crashing. He’s afraid of something anyway, which means he has emotions after all. Well, at least one—fear. “Are you all right?”
He turns back to the window. “Never better.”
“It’s just that you seem … a little unwell.”
“I’m fine. And I’d rather not talk about it.”
“You’re fine or you’d rather not talk about it?” Whoops, that sounded argumentative. Charming, Gwen. Be charming.
“What?”
“It can’t be both. You’re either actually fine or you’re not and you don’t want to talk about it, but it can’t be both.” Apparently my brain doesn’t have a charm setting.
He glares at me, his deep brown eyes making me squirm a little in my seat. “I don’t like helicopters, but as long as we don’t crash, I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like them either,” I tell him. Ooh, much better—you’re finding common ground. “They really are the motorcycles of the sky. Say, I wonder if that’s why they’re both referred to as choppers?”
He swallows hard. “I have no idea.”
“It kind of feels like we’re flying around in a giant fishbowl, and I don’t know about you, but I cannot see how all this glass would protect us from anything if we do crash.”
He turns slightly green and closes his eyes.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I tend to have trouble keeping my opinions to myself, even when I should. It’s a bad habit.”
“It certainly is,” he says, turning back to the window.
In my brain, I’m mocking his voice, making him sound like the snootiest of all the snooty billionaires in the world. It certainly is. But on the outside, I’m offering him a sympathetic smile just in case he turns around. “Anyway, I’m really sorry about Dr. Napper. I’m sure this must be just awful for you—losing your business partner and probably your best friend.”
He stiffens a little, then says, “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
“He was an incredible human,” I say, glancing out to see that we’re no longer flying over Lima, but are now at the base of the mountains. “Not only generous, but so full of life and really incredibly inspiring. I watched every one of his adventures on the Dick Cam.”
Mr. Sterling blinks slowly, then says, “You needn’t bother. I meant what I said earlier—about there being absolutely no chance of me funding any of your projects.”
“I know you did. You hate what we do, even though SETI is a real and highly respected line of research. Not like a lot of the other projects in the foundation.” Leaning toward him a little, I say, “I mean, come on, the search for Atlantis? Might as well look for King Arthur’s sword. Embarrassing.”
His lips curve up ever so slightly, and I’ll be damned if those aren’t a nice set of lips. “Let me get this straight. You look down on them?”
My face heats up with humiliation, which turns instantly to rage. Doing my best to stay icy calm, I say, “I assure you what those other teams do and what we do are nothing alike. Ours is a very real science based on facts and certainty. Theirs is a fairy tale.”
“I have news for you. You’re not that different.”
Okay, now I’m mad. “We most certainly are nothing like those crazy Yeti people.”
“You most certainly are. You all employed exactly the same strategy when it came to sending someone on this godforsaken trip to try to handle me.”
“Which is…?”
“Sending a young, attractive woman to convince me not to shut you down.” His eyes sweep over me. “It’s insulting really.”
Attractive? Did he just call me attractive? Is my face bright red right now? Because it feels ridiculously hot. Stupid face. “That’s not why I was picked.”
He arches his left eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” I answer, sounding haughtier than I should. “There was a very good reason my team sent me.”
