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Which only annoyed me more. He was the annoyer. I was the annoyee. What right did he have to stick in my mind like that?
Yet there he was, sticking like glue.
Stunningly handsome glue. Especially the eyes. The shoulders. His chest. Oh, and that perfect, boxy ass — much, much preferable to Madden’s pudgy crack.
But that was about all he had going for him. He’d insulted my job — Mindless? Seriously? — and maligned my dad. On top of that, he might be secretly gunning for my pilot’s job. What a jerk.
I stalked through the supermarket, taking my frustration out on products I slammed into my shopping cart. A bag of wholewheat English muffins —thump!Half a pound of cheddar cheese — extra sharp —bang!A package of frozen ground turkey —crash!
The woman in the meat aisle looked at me, then quickly turned away.
I didn’t take it out on the lady at the register, because she probably had to cope with arrogant, belittling people too. But I did take it out my grocery bags, thrusting each item in, then shoving them into the cart. Zipping up my jacket, I headedoutside, where the winter sun painted the sky a startlingly clear Navajo blue. Sedona’s spectacular red mesas spread below that, wrinkled by time and dusted with snow. Lower down, a deep green patchwork of pines, oaks, and junipers surrounded town, all sprinkled with a thinner layer of confectioner’s powder.
I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, letting peace filter through my soul.
Someone bumped me, then hurried to apologize. “Oh, sorry.”
“My fault.” I moved aside, keeping my eyes closed.
“Not available? Are you sure?” the same man asked, his voice smooth as honey — the dark, thick kind that tempted you to dip in a spoon and lick.
I glanced over at a styled, sixtysomething man holding a phone to his ear. His sleeve slid down far enough to reveal one of those fancy watches that cost five figures and could measure barometric pressure and the time in Hong Kong — from a hundred feet underwater, no doubt. The rest of his outfit was what Pippa called Marlboro Man Chic, with a rancher’s jacket by Ralph Lauren and gleaming boots that had never, ever been smeared with cow dung and never would be.
All in all, you could call him coiffed. Elegant. Worldly, too, like he had to head off to a business meeting in New York — make that, London — very soon. One of those silver foxes who made women’s hearts skip, because here was a man who wouldn’t get excited about inviting a date to cheap stadium seats where spilled beer and soda kept shoes half glued to the floor. A man who’d learned that birthdays were not to be forgotten and that dirty clothes belonged in a bin.
So, not necessarily my type, but a fun fantasy to indulge in from time to time.
“Nothing available at all?” he asked. I expected a corporate-rich guy like that to start hollering and threatening, but he kept his cool. “Not a single helicopter? Not even a four-seater plane?”
Two doors down the strip mall, a woman in high heels click-click-clicked out of a real estate office and pressed a manila envelope into his hands.
He flashed a stunning Colgate smile and nodded his thanks without interrupting his call.
“What a pity. But surely something can be done. I’m only in town for a few days, and I really don’t want to miss the experience of seeing it from the air.”
I was liking this guy more and more all the time.
“Yes, I’ll stay on the line,” he said, checking his watch.
And, heck. I wasn’t a born hustler, but I knew an opportunity when I saw one.
I stepped closer with a little wave. He looked up — and wow. That thousand-watt smile made something flutter in my chest.
I pushed the feeling away and smiled back. “I couldn’t help overhearing. Are you looking for someone to take you on a scenic flight?”
His eyes, voice, and smile all lasered into me, making my cheeks heat. “Yes, I am. Are you a pilot?”
I fell in love with him right there. Most people would have said,Do you know a pilot?not given me credit for being one.
“I am — at Desert Skies Balloon Adventures.” I pointed at our office on the other side of the strip mall. “Have you considered a balloon ride? No engine howling in your ears, no blades chopping up the air. Just you floating peacefully through the sky.”
His eyes sparkled. “You know, I hadn’t thought of that. But it could fit the bill.” He blinked, then spoke into the phone as the other party came back on the line. “Nothing until next week? Unfortunately, that won’t work. But I believe I may have found a different solution.” He winked at me, then hung up, smiling. “What are my chances of getting a private flight soon, Captain?”
My heart fluttered again.
“We’ll have to ask my boss, but I’m sure he can arrange something. How many passengers?”
“Two minimum. If space allows, perhaps a few more.”
