She sighed into his mouth, and her br**sts nudged his chest. He cupped her waist, stroked her back, then the tight curve of her leather-clad bottom to pull her closer.
She stiffened. Her eyes flew open, meeting his gaze over their joined mouths. She planted her palms on his chest and shoved, nearly knocking him off his feet.
Wiping her mouth, she backed away. “Nice try, Faulkner. But you’re not going to cost me this job.”
A sharp gust of wind punctuated her statement and cooled the embers she’d ignited. Gage studied her flushed face.
Who was the real Lauren Lynch? The simple woman who wore Chap Stick and enjoyed the Amish countryside? Or the one out for everything she could siphon from her rich relatives? With two hundred grand unaccounted for, Gage couldn’t be too careful.
For Trent’s sake, he would find out Lauren’s objectives. It was the least he could do to repay his debt.
But sleeping with the enemy wasn’t part of the plan. No matter how good she tasted.The combination of driving rain, a chilly forty degrees and twenty-mile-per-hour crosswinds had added a little extra excitement to Lauren’s Thursday-night landing in Knoxville. Those same conditions were going to make her motorcycle ride home from the airport miserable.
She hadn’t packed her rain suit when she’d left for work yesterday morning because the cold front hadn’t been predicted to dip this far south. Maybe the Fates were giving her the cold shower she deserved for aborting her common sense this afternoon and kissing her brother’s spy.
Her pulse skipped just thinking about the firm possession of Gage’s mouth, his warm lips and the heat of his hands on her behind. She blew out a slow breath and tried to shake off the arousal prickling her skin like a coarse wool blanket.
Gage would not sneak beyond her fences again. Not today or any other day. But his boyish grin when he’d climbed off that Harley Night Rod had knocked reason right out of her head. The man took himself too seriously. The fact that he’d seemed surprised to have enjoyed the ride had doubled the knee-weakening power of his blinding smile, and those glittering golden-brown eyes had hit her harder than a triple shot of Goldschlager.
Gage Faulkner was dangerous. Probably more so than Whit had been because she’d known what her ex-lover wanted from the moment he’d swept her off her feet with that first fancy dinner. Gage was sneakier and more devious because while the attraction crackled between them, so did the antagonism. But she knew his game plan now. Charm her. Disarm her. Get her fired.
In her logbook, once a fool didn’t mean always a fool. She knew better than to mistake herself for Cinderella again. She’d learned the hard way there was no happily ever after for a rich man and a working-class woman. The wealthy took what they wanted short-term then moved on to a more suitable mate for the long haul, one who had connections and social graces. Like the congressman’s debutante daughter Whit had married.
That meant Lauren had to get rid of Gage. But how?
She locked the plane then hunched her shoulders and sprinted through the downpour toward the terminal a hundred yards away. She’d dropped Gage off closer to the building where an attendant had been waiting with an umbrella to escort him inside, then she’d taxied the Mustang to her assigned spot on the tarmac.
Cold droplets slipped down the back of her neck, soaked through her uniform and spattered her legs beneath her skirt as she splashed across the concrete. She shook off what moisture she could and debated calling a taxi, but she wanted to send Uncle Lou as much money as she could to cover her father’s—now her—share of the expenses, and the ride to her apartment on the other side of town would run at least fifty bucks. The equivalent of a week’s worth of groceries.
Drenched and shivering, she opened the door. Inviting heated air welcomed her, but the sight of Gage waiting in the lobby stopped her on the threshold. She’d taken her time locking down the plane hoping he’d be long gone before she came inside.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
“Park your Harley in the hangar. I’m giving you a ride home.”
She opened her mouth to refuse what sounded more like an order than an offer. Other than flying around the storm, the flight home had been calm and enjoyable since, for once, Gage had buckled up in the passenger cabin where he belonged. The last thing she wanted was more time with him. Time to rehash that misbegotten kiss, time to smell his cologne and feel his presence and get her muscles all kinked up again with knots of tension.
But her daddy hadn’t raised a fool. She’d rather be warm and dry than wet and proud. “Thanks. Let me turn over the flight log.”
“I’ll get the car and wait outside.”
All too soon she’d handed over the report on the airplane’s performance, secured her bike and stood beside the black Chevy SUV Gage had pulled beneath the covered drop-off area in front of HAMC’s private departure lounge.
He opened her door. Their fingers touched as he took her flight bag from her, jarring her heart into an erratic beat and almost making her miss her footing as she climbed into the front seat. His steadying hand on her elbow didn’t help her coordination any.
The big, powerful vehicle suited him, and the interior smelled like a combination of his cologne and leather upholstery. He strapped in beside her. Maybe she could convince him to talk to Trent about reassigning her on the way home. But within minutes the nasty weather combined with rush hour traffic changed her mind. She’d let Gage focus on getting them to her place without incident.
Water streamed down the windows, isolating them from the rest of the world. Intense concentration furrowed his forehead and stiffened his shoulders. She caught herself contrasting his hard, chiseled jaw with the relaxed and easy smile he’d worn when he’d climbed off the Harley.
Her gaze drifted to his thick dark hair. The neatly combed strands had gotten damp when he’d gone after his car, and the moisture gave the ends a slight curl. He looked more approachable with disheveled helmet hair. He’d probably look even better with bedhead.
The thought made her wince. Oh yeah, she had to get rid of him before she did something stupid. Like risk her job by kissing him again…or worse.
She’d never been a slave to desire before, had never been one of those silly, giggly girls she’d overheard on campus who couldn’t wait until spring break to get wild, and she had no intention of getting goofy now. Not that she’d had that many opportunities to get stupid over a guy. But Whit had gotten to her. He’d slipped past her defenses and made her believe for a few short months that she could be more than a jet jockey.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. Besides, you love being a pilot.
She squinted and leaned forward to see through the windshield. Darkness and oncoming headlights combined with a fog building inside the car created an awful glare.
She reached for the defrost button and her hand collided with Gage’s as he did the same thing. She jerked away, and let him adjust his own controls while she tried to quiet the buzz working through her system like a shorted-out wire.
“Take the next exit then the second right. It’s the third house on the left.”
He followed her instructions, pulled up to the garage and turned off the engine. Lauren jumped from the car and opened the back door to retrieve her bag. She turned and startled when she saw Gage standing beside her.
He clamped steadying hands on her upper arms.
“Sorry.” She pulled free, but the feel of his hands remained after he’d moved out of her personal space. “Thanks for the ride.”
“I’m coming up.”
“Why?” A chilly raindrop slid down her cheek.
“You didn’t leave on any lights.”
Something inside her went mushy. She wasn’t used to men other than her dad and Lou looking out for her. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll see you inside.” His inflexible tone warned her arguing would be a waste of time, and she wasn’t really interested in getting soaked to prove a point.
Resigned, she led the way up the steep, shadowed stairs and unlocked her door. Stepping inside, she flicked on a glass lamp filled with seashells she and her father had collected on the Florida beaches. Seeing the lamp reminded her why she was here and why she couldn’t let Gage blow this gig for her prematurely.
“See. Everything’s good. I told you, it’s a safe neighborhood. Not all bikers are roughneck gang members.”
Gage moved forward out of the rain pounding the landing outside her door and forcing her deeper into her living room. He closed the door as his gaze raked over her belongings as if cataloging and valuing each item. “Nice.”
A snort of disbelief escaped before she could stop it. The two-room apartment wasn’t big or luxurious, but it was clean and comfortable, and her landlord, a widow, was a sweetie. Lauren had brought only the essential furniture with her since she’d known she wouldn’t be staying long, and much to her mother’s disgust there wasn’t a designer anything anywhere in sight.
Jacqui kept offering to buy Lauren gifts or loan her money, but Lauren was equally determined to refuse. If her mother had wanted to show her affection, then she should have tried being a parent over the past twenty-five years instead of trying to buy Lauren’s love now. The fact that Jacqui had chosen to be a mother to her other children chafed.
Lauren shrugged off the wasted emotion. “The apartment serves its purpose.”
“Good night, then.”
She glanced at the lamp again and gathered her courage. “Gage.”
His dark eyes found hers.
“You need to request another pilot.”
A pleat formed between his leveled eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because what happened today can’t happen again.”
He folded his arms and squared his stance. “It won’t.”
And yet even as he said the words, his gaze dropped to her lips—lips which tingled in response to his expanding pupils.
“Please ask. Trent won’t listen to me.”
“And in this case, neither will I. You’re mine for the duration of this contract, Lauren. Deal with it.” He turned and left, his footsteps pounding down the wooden stair treads.
Lauren groaned in frustration and shut the door.
Nothing good would come of this. Of that she was certain.
She should have called in sick, Lauren decided as she stepped from the plane onto the tarmac.
She’d been tempted to play hooky from work even though she felt perfectly well. But she’d never skipped out on work before, and she wasn’t going to let her half brother and his cohort drive her into developing bad habits now.
At any other time the assignment she’d picked up this morning would have filled her with excitement. Three days in San Francisco. Throw in the opportunity to fly a new-to-her model jet, and she was almost in heaven.
Except the fates weren’t finished conspiring against her.
She swept a regretful glance over the Sino Swearingen SJ30–2. A sweet, hot little number with a peach of a cockpit. And unless she could find an available mechanic with fast diagnostic skills, she probably wouldn’t get to fly her. She expelled a long, disappointed breath. Bummer.