Jacqueline Diamond - Paris or Bust!

“Sure.” Lou walked saucily toward them, making sure Jimbo watched her walk away.

He did, with his tongue practically on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Kylie growled when she got closer.

“What does it look like?” Lou patted her hairdo. “I’m trying to get a date. You remember what a date is, don’t you, Kylie?”

Wade laughed and Kylie groaned. “Don’t you have work to do?” she asked. “Accounting work?”

“All caught up.”

“How about the quarterlies?”

“Well, darling, I would, but I just did them last night.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m quite sure.”

“And then there’s the checking account situation-”

“Balanced,” Lou said proudly.

“Are you positive?”

“Of course, I’m positive. I’ve done this before, you know. Now shoo, scat, vamoose, you’re cramping my style.” Without looking back, she sashayed toward Jimbo.

Kylie was overcome with impending doom. She was failing, miserably.

“Hey,” Wade said. “It can’t be that bad.”

“As long as I’m wearing rose-colored glasses.”

He took her hand and pulled her away. They walked alongside the tarmac for about a hundred feet before they walked down the alley between hangars two and three toward maintenance.

She was just numb enough to actually let him lead her.

“Pretty day,” he said.

It was, but it’d be prettier if their hopefully new client called. She glanced at the cell phone. She’d given him this number in case there was a problem with the phones again.

No missed call.

Wade moved closer, and before she realized it, she had the cool hangar wall at her back and the big, bad, sexy pilot at her front. “Your mother is right,” he said, running his hands up her sides. “Tension is spilling right out of you.”

“That’s because you’re standing in my space,” she retorted, both the words and her breath backing up in her lungs when he spun her around and put her hands on the wall. “What-”

The word turned into a moan when he pressed close, pressed his fingers into her shoulders, massaging right where she felt most of the tension, at the base of her neck. “Wade-”

“Do us both a favor and be quiet a moment.”

Oh, man, did he know what he was doing. Those fingers were magic, pure, unadulterated magic, as they dug into the knots in her shoulders, her biceps, her neck. She wore a sleeveless faux-silk blouse, and he wasn’t shy about slipping his hands beneath the material to work more of that magic.

Within two minutes her legs were Jell-O. Her hands slipped from the wall, and he tsked, putting them back up. “Hold still.”

Hold still. If she so much as arched her back, her bottom found a snug home at the vee of his trousers. She knew this because she did it. Then his hands danced all over her and she couldn’t breathe. Hold still? She couldn’t!

“If you’d only admit you liked this,” he whispered into her ear, causing a set of delicious shudders to race down her spine. “I could do it for you whenever you tense up. Which is all the time.”

She spun around, not realizing until that moment just how close they were. Her chest brushed his, so did her hips. His eyes darkened, and his hands slid from her shoulders to cup her face. “Kylie?” His thumb slid over her lower lip, making it tremble open. “Do you like it?”

Definitely, a woman more in charge of her sexuality would do just that, admit it and then take more, take all of what was offered, whatever that might be. But Kylie wasn’t that woman. She knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was her life simplified. Wade wouldn’t do that, he’d complicate it.

Yes, in the deep dark of the night, she could admit the airport needed more help than she alone could give it. She needed a partner.

But in the light of day, she wasn’t willing to let go yet. And then there was Wade himself. She told herself she wasn’t interested. She needed more than a single smoldering look.

A single smoldering look, which at the moment, was consuming her, making her a little sweaty, a little tingly, a little dizzy even, so she put her hands on his arms for balance.

He stared down at them, then looked at her.

Oh my, he had hard muscle beneath his shirt. Her fingers squeezed, testing, her knees quivering again when nothing gave.

“Kylie…”

Fascinated, utterly unable to help herself, she squeezed him again. “Yeah?”

“You’re…touching me.”

She was. She couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I like it,” he said in a voice that sounded a little ragged. He gripped her when she might have pulled away. “I like it a lot.”

Suddenly her entire body forgot its own pledge. It was humming, craving, yearning, and when she looked up into Wade’s face, his mouth slowly curved into a wry smile.

“Say the word,” he said huskily, with one more trace of the pad of his thumb over her mouth. “Just say the word and I’ll touch you back. I’ll be quite happy to touch you back, Kylie.”

She almost went for it. She certainly, suddenly, desperately, wanted to. But she just realized something else…Wade stood there, looking at her patiently. He understood her enough to know she required patience. Buckets of it.

And that, she decided, was the worst part of the morning. Not the reporters, or the pictures they’d almost gotten. Not her grandmother looking for a date amongst the clients.

But Wade knowing her so well.

KYLIE WENT BACK into the lobby, with Wade not far behind. He had a flight-she knew because once again she’d peeked-and would be gone the rest of the day on a charter to Santa Barbara.

Good.

She needed the rest of the day to recover from the feel of his hands on her body. In less than two minutes he’d dissipated most of the stress tension in her neck, replacing it with a different sort of tension altogether.

One that wouldn’t be easily assuaged by working on an airplane engine.

When she stepped into the lobby, Kylie automatically braced herself for the worst. Her mother had probably single-handedly destroyed the phone system again, or somehow managed to break down dispatch.

“Honey!” Daisy called, waving her over. “I just reheated your stress-relieving tea, come and get it.” She held out the mug, then swept a stray strand of hair off her daughter’s face. “You seem a little pale,” she murmured. “What’s the matter?”

Nothing, except every hormone she had was on full alert. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, but drink your tea, you need some color in your cheeks.” She patted her hair. “I was thinking about going a shade lighter to celebrate. What do you think?”

“I’m going to my office.”

“But what about my hair? I don’t want to look too old.”

Kylie looked at the woman who wasn’t quite fifty and looked two decades younger. “Mom, you look like my only slightly older sister.”

“Oh, honey. Really?”

“Really.”

Daisy grinned. “You’re such a good daughter. Now about you…I don’t suppose you have a hairbrush and lipstick lurking under all that mess on your desk? Because now might be a good time to find them.”

That “mess” was their livelihood. “Yeah, right, mom. Lipstick on my desk. Funny stuff.” Kylie went to her office. In the center of her desk sat a little pot of daisies. There was also a little sack lunch with a sticky note attached that said “eat me.”

Her mother.

And her heart sighed. You’re a good daughter, her mother always said, but suddenly Kylie saw the flip side. “You’re a good mother, too,” she whispered in the empty room.

But she still didn’t look for a hairbrush or lipstick.

WADE FOUND IT amusing how Kylie took all the press over the next few weeks. She glowered, scowled and grumbled her way through the days when it came to anything contest related, and yet seemed to thrive on running the airport. Watching her in charge-flying, wrenching, all of it, turned him on.

But then Family Voyager magazine wanted a spread in their next issue with all the nominated mothers and their children. Kylie appeared to look forward to that about as much as one would a root canal. On impacted molars. Without drugs.

Wade hadn’t mentioned his offer to buy the airport, and knew that even though she was up against the wall financially, she wouldn’t bring it up, either.

But oddly enough, that was okay, because he was distracted with something else, something disturbing.

He wanted Kylie more than he wanted the airport.

They were night and day, he and Kylie. He knew that, and yet they shared so much. They were both bullheaded, and far more likely to walk into a fight rather than away from one.

They also had both worked hard for their dreams, and had a passion for flying.

And they both figured love would never play a serious part in their lives.

He had a bad feeling he was wrong there, and was man enough to admit it. But he was also man enough to let Kylie figure it out for herself.

With his help, of course.

For two weeks he’d been running into her as often as possible, timing their entrance into the maintenance hangar down to the second, so that he could brush a hand low on her spine as he held the door open for her. Or squeeze past her in the lobby, making sure to touch her hip, to flick the bill of that baseball cap she wore in favor of doing something with the short mop of hair he so loved.

It worked, too, he could tell because her breath would catch, or she’d stare at him wide-eyed, a little bewildered, as if she didn’t quite know what to do with him.

Which made them just about even, as he didn’t know what to do with her, either. Correction-he knew exactly what he wanted to do with her, which was toss her in his bed and follow her down to have his merry way with her hot little bod.

Beyond that, he had a sinking idea he knew what else he wanted…and since it involved more than he’d ever wanted before, he decided to dance around that for a while and concentrate on the lust aspect.

And getting her into his bed.

On the day of the scheduled magazine photo shoot for Kylie and Daisy, he found Kylie in front of the vending machine in the deserted mechanics office. She had her hands on her hips and a frown on her pretty face. Before he could say a word, she kicked the machine.

A candy bar fell out. “Now that’s more like it,” she muttered, and tore into the chocolate.

“Skip breakfast again?” he asked mildly, smiling when she whirled to look at him. “I should tell you, that snarl on your face makes me want to shove you up against that wall and kiss it away.”

She turned her attention back to the machine. “I’d do just about anything for that Babe Ruth bar in there.”

He nearly swallowed his tongue. “Anything?”

“Maybe even give you that kiss of my own free will.”

For that he’d do a lot more than buy her a candy bar, but when he pulled change out of his pocket, she snickered. “Oh, like that’s going to work.”

He didn’t care if he had to tear apart the entire vending machine with his bare hands, he was going to get her that candy bar, and she was going to give him the promised kiss. He was already hard just thinking about it. The money dropped in, he pushed the button, and like magic, the requested candy bar came out.

She stared at him in such utter surprise when he handed it to her, that he nearly grinned. “Now about that kiss,” he murmured, stepping close.

With a narrow little laugh, she backed up a step, hit the back of her knees on a low table in front of the couch, and sat down on it hard. “But…that machine never works, not without a well-placed kick and three times too much money.”

“So you were lying about the kiss?”

Her eyes narrowed as she tipped her head back to look up at him. “I never lie.”

“Didn’t think so.” Sinking to his knees before her, he took her hands and wrapped them around his neck and said, “Give me your best shot then.”

She tried to tug her hands free, but he held them in place. “Are you welshing on your promise?” he asked.

Her mouth was only inches from his, and it was open. Most likely with shock. Or maybe just plain irritation. But her lips were bare and full, and since her tongue darted out to lick them, also wet. “Fine,” she said. She squeezed her eyes tight, puckered up, leaned in a little bit…and waited.

And waited.

Finally her eyes flew open. “What are you waiting for?” she demanded.

“You promised to kiss me.”

Irritation definitely swam in those eyes now, and once again she leaned forward, puckered tight as a drum. But this time her mouth touched his, even if it was the light, chaste kiss of a friendly cousin.