Chapter 9
Eve
The temperature was a perfect seventy, the sky crystal blue, and she would soon see Adam again. All week, Eve had anticipated being with him, and it had been great to be able to study, clean, and even shop at her leisure. The contract called for weekends only, with exclusivity.
She didn’t remember the last time she’d had so much time to herself.
Eve smiled. Smoothing her hands over her upper thighs, she checked her white jeans for flaws, then fixed her gaze in the direction of arriving cars at the front of her building.
She’d chosen a red and white polka dot top with cap sleeves and red ankle strap wedges. Small, cute bows adorned the straps, and she carried a little white baguette-shaped bag.
All she had received as guidance regarding what to wear was a brief note attached to a single short-stemmed orange rose.
Lunch, Saturday. Be out front at 11:00 a.m.
Wear comfortable shoes.
Don’t wear a dress.
—Adam
No one had ever sent her an orange rose. They’d all gone straight for red long-stems, usually by the dozen. Despite feeling foolish, Eve had gone to look up rose color meanings, though she doubted he’d given it that much thought. Men didn’t think like that, yet it pleased her to learn that orange meant desire and enthusiasm.
The bloom was also not the typical florist type to which she had become accustomed. This one was cup-shaped, with many smaller petals, and had such a strong scent that it perfumed her entire apartment. All week, she’d walked through her door and instantly thought of Adam.
She heard the growl of the car engine even before it rounded the corner. Of all the things Eve had expected him to drive, she never would have guessed it would be a black Mercedes sedan, let alone an older one.
But, no, no Porsche or McLaren for Adam, and, she had to admit, that was a shocker. After all, the man flew jets.
The Benz braked smoothly in front of her. Before her doorman even took a step, out strode Adam, coming around to open the door for her.
“Good morning.”
His eyes raked her from head to toe. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. You look good too.”
Always an understatement, that. Today, he again wore a LarsAir polo, this time in sapphire blue, with fitted navy trousers and penny loafers on his feet.
Inside the car, she smelled the strong scent of fine leather, his fresh cologne, and him. She drank it in, breathing deeply as she sank into the ergonomic black leather seat. How could the mere scent of him soothe and excite her simultaneously?
Eve didn’t understand it, but it did.
They drove without speaking for a while, but it was a comfortable silence. She was learning that being with Adam didn’t necessarily mean obligatory conversation.
She slanted a glance at him and noticed an uncharacteristic smile.
Enthusiasm seemed to simmer just below his relaxed demeanor, piquing her curiosity.
“Nice car,” she said.
His grin was immediate, and so was the resulting spike in her heart rate.
“Thank you. Wish I had time to take her out more often. She really is a joy to drive.”
“She?”
“Cars, boats, planes…they’re all a she.”
He gave her a blue-eyed look that made the backs of her knees tingle. “Most beautiful things are a she.”
“What year is she?”
“2008. This was the first car I bought with my own money that wasn’t a junker. I found her used, with only eleven thousand miles, and the guy had babied her, so she was showroom.”
“I haven’t seen one in this body style that sounded like this.”
“She’s an S63 AMG,”
he said with evident pride. “Sedan looks, with a beast for an engine. Five hundred eighteen horses, 6.2-liter V-8. Runs zero to sixty in 4.5 seconds.”
Ah. Now, that made more sense. Adam was driving a stealth sports car.
“The engine sounds fierce.”
“Took some dude in Germany five hours to assemble. By hand. Every engine has a badge, hand-signed by the specific builder assigned to that particular one.”
She’d never seen him this enthusiastic before, except, perhaps, at the reveal, but there, he’d been on full display in public.
He fingered the paddle shifter. Eve gazed at his hands, content to be in this car and spend time with him.
“You haven’t been tempted to trade this in for a newer model?”
“There’s nothing better I can get in trade. This has an aspirated engine. The newer AMGs have a turbo, and it just isn’t the same.”
“How so?”
“Sounds different. It’s all about the growl. The full experience includes the sound. I like to listen to the engine.”
Indeed, he hadn’t touched the sound system. Maybe, too, because he was a pilot accustomed to keeping his ear attuned, listening for unusual noises.
“This is a keeper, then.”
He took his eyes off the traffic light and turned to face her. “I choose carefully, I persevere until I get exactly what I want, and then I keep it.”
His piercing gaze told her so much more than what he’d said. It threw her off so much that she didn’t realize they were headed for the airport until she spotted signs.
She looked at him in puzzlement. “Adam?”
“Mm-hmm?”
His eyes stayed on the road.
“You did say you were taking me to lunch?”
“I am.”
“Then why are we almost at the airport?”
His million-watt smile, up close, was devastating. “We’re going to grab a hundred-dollar burger.”
What kind of burger could cost a hundred dollars?
She’d seen some crazy ones on the Food Network containing edible gold leaf. Vegas had a couple of places with burgers costing over five thousand dollars. For that price, Eve thought they should come on a solid-gold plate you could take home.
Where were they going?
Adam turned onto a narrow road. Windowless buildings made of white siding were lined up on both sides. Airplane hangars, she realized. At the very end, one loomed large, a giant LarsAir logo on the front.
This remote part of the airport was unfamiliar to Eve. What was familiar was the blue and white Gulfstream they had flown to the Caymans, slowly advancing toward them, pulled along smoothly by a yellow tug. Adam eased up on the gas.
Were they taking this jet again? Eve’s brow furrowed.
The Gulfstream was right in front of them now. Adam raised a hand to acknowledge the tug operator, and presently, the plane glided right on by.
OK, this was getting confusing. Last time, they had gone to the FBO with its elegant lounge, and someone had driven them in a golf cart to the plane.
Adam eased the Mercedes into a reserved spot that sported the LarsAir logo. Underneath the logo, she read A. Larssen, CEO.
He opened the car door for her again and led her toward the giant doors of the LarsAir hangar, which immediately began to slide open with a loud, mechanical rumble that sounded like a freight train.
As they did, a brightly illuminated interior gradually came into view. Several gleaming jets of different sizes, all sporting the familiar LarsAir paint scheme, caught the sunlight, parked on an immaculate, polished white floor.
This had to be his fleet. It was spectacular.
“We’re taking one of these?”
“Indeed, we are.”
Wondering which jet would take them to their mystery destination, Eve read the different tail numbers, all ending in LA.
A thin, tanned, elderly man rounded a plane and sauntered toward them, wiping his hands on a grease-stained rag. “Hey, kid.”
“Hey, Tim. This is Eve. Eve, Tim, our top aircraft mechanic. He’s been with Lars since the beginning.”
“Hello.”
Tim gave her a courteous nod and motioned with his chin toward the hangar. “Ready for Adam’s mosquito wagon?”
Eve gave Tim a blank stare and looked up at Adam.
His lips twitched. “It’s what they call a small plane in Alaska. Betty is good to go, I take it, Tim?”
Tim grinned, revealing surprisingly perfect teeth. “Always. I make sure of that.”
“Thanks. You’re the man.”
“Great day for flying,”
Tim commented.
Adam gazed up at the cloudless blue sky. “Every day is a great day for flying.”
The purr of a motor caught Eve’s attention. She looked behind her to see a smaller tug inch out of the far end of the hangar, pulling a tiny two-door plane, the kind with wings affixed on top of the fuselage.
On the tail, Eve spotted a much different version of the LarsAir logo, all gold, featuring a detailed image of mountains. It was styled like emblems she had seen from the 1950s.
Next to the sleek jets, this one looked out of place. Shiny and small, royal blue with white wings and roof, it reminded Eve of a child’s toy.
Eve turned to Adam, but his attention was on the approaching tug, his body charged with excitement.
And he was beaming at that plane the way a little boy would look at a favorite pet.
“What plane is that?”
Eve asked.
The tug passed them, halting just before the propeller reached Adam’s shoulder.
“This,”
Adam said, running a hand lovingly over a drawing on the side of the nose, “is Betty.”
“So, Betty is a little plane.”
Eve studied the painted replica of the famous Betty Grable pinup, the one where she smiled provocatively over her shoulder in a satin leotard, her long, perfect legs on full display.
Below it, painted in vintage-style lettering, was written simply, Betty.
“A very special plane. I learned to fly on her.”
Eve touched a glossy wing. “She looks brand-new.”
“My great-grandfather took delivery of her in April 1958.”
He indicated toward the large letters and numbers painted boldly in gold, toward the back of the fuselage: N458LA.
“He started Larssen Aviation with Tim’s dad and this one plane. Came out of the Air Force after World War II and saved for thirteen years to buy her.”
“And named her Betty?”
Adam smiled fondly. “He brought that poster back with him.”
Eve studied the shiny little plane, unable to find a single flaw. “No one would ever guess she’s that old.”
“Vintage Cessna,”
he firmly corrected. “182 Skylane floatplane.”
“Where are the floats?”
“They’re in the hangar. We won’t be needing them today. Maybe next time, we can do a water landing. They’re fun.”
He tapped the plane’s nose twice. “Ready?”
“Sure.”
He came around to open the door for her. “Tim took care of the outside preflight, so I won’t be long out here. Just going to double-check a few things myself.”
Eve didn’t get in, preferring to watch him do his inspection.
She glanced inside. The interior was as flawless as the exterior. This was a plane that was cherished. On the dash, she recognized the same round instruments Adam had sported on his shirt the other day when she’d tossed caution aside, fisted that shirt, and kissed him.
She turned her attention back to Adam, watching him run his palm over the wing’s upper surface, then go down on one knee to inspect the underside. She didn’t know why, but the sight of him on one knee like that, head up, the breeze ruffling his bright hair, made her throat suddenly close and tears sting her eyes. Lithely, he stood and strode to the back to check the tail.
Eve ducked inside. Sitting in the padded cloth-and-vinyl seat, she tipped her chin up and quickly dashed her tears away, blinking, tasting salt.
What was this? She could no longer recognize herself.
Longing. It was longing, an awful, soul-wrenching want, and she ached with it.
“We’re good to go,”
she heard him say. Her door closed, and he ran around the front to open his own. His scent flooded her nostrils as he climbed in, his presence overwhelming. He locked his side. Leaning across her, he reached for the handle by her elbow, his bare arm grazing her breasts. “Just let me lock this, and…”
He pushed down on the handle. “What’s wrong?”
Oh no. He’d noticed.
She shook her head.
He searched her face for a few seconds. “Have you flown in a plane this size before?”
She took a deep breath, shoulders sagging. “No.”
Adam had read it as fear of flying. Thank God.
He reached to fasten her seat belt. “Small planes are slow flyers. You can land them just about anywhere. You didn’t hear this from me, but most problems are caused by pilot error.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re in good hands; I promise.”
Adam
It was the perfect day for Betty to showcase what a high-wing aircraft could do. Not fast-moving to require his constant vigilance, no wings to block the spectacular views, just the buzz of the single engine and open sky.
Being up here was his escape, miles up from all the daily stresses that sometimes had Adam wondering what the hell he was doing with his life.
Eve seemed to have overcome her initial nervousness, commenting on the landmarks he pointed out. The sound of her voice and laughter, directly in his ears, and her slight figure close enough to touch, made him happier than he had been in a very long time.
Eve adjusted her headset. “So, tell me about this expensive hamburger. What makes it worth a hundred dollars?”
“The burger is three bucks. The other ninety-seven is for the fuel that takes you to the burger.”
Amusement twinkled in her brown eyes. “Ah. I see.”
“The hundred-dollar burger is insider-speak for a short flight to a small airport with a restaurant on site or nearby.”
“Got it. What could be cooler than taking off into the wild blue yonder in search of lunch?”
“Cool, yeah, but there’s another purpose. It’s a way for private pilots to practice skills by leaving the pattern and flying into an airport they’ve never been to before.”
“It doesn’t look to me as if you need to practice your skills.”
He gave her a sidelong glance and caught her staring at his lips. Immediately, gorgeous color appeared on her cheeks, and he bit back a very suggestive comeback. “I’m talking about private pilots,”
he said instead.
“You’re not a private pilot?”
“I’m ATP. Air Transport.”
“What’s the difference?”
He sought a simple way to explain it. “There are three levels,”
he began. “Private is like you graduated from high school, commercial is like you went to college, and ATP, you got your doctoral degree. “
A shadow passed over her face.
He was beginning to read her. It bothered him that, sometimes, she seemed visited by things that haunted her from her past.
“Then there is flight instructor,”
he went on, hoping to draw her out of whatever had upset her, “but that one is separate.”
He reached out to adjust the barometric pressure on the altimeter.
Eve watched closely. “That’s not a six-pack,”
she said. “That is an eight-pack.”
He laughed.
He looked into her eyes, and he could tell that she, too, was recalling the other day, back at her apartment, when she had practically attacked him. For a moment, he allowed himself to look at her luscious mouth. Too bad he had a plane to fly.
He circled the first six instruments with his index finger. “This,”
he explained, “is the six-pack.”
He pointed to the other two. “These are for instrument flying. When the weather is bad, you need them.”
She asked more questions, and he answered them, pleased that she showed genuine interest. So many people he took up were captivated by being up high and the view but showed zero desire to learn about his favorite part, the flying.
“You know,”
he told her, “I could teach you to fly if you want to.”
Delight spread across her lovely face. “Really?”
He grinned at her. “Sure. Betty has been a first for so many private pilots, I’ve lost count.”
“I’d like that.”
“Grab the yoke.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
She seemed reluctant, so he reached out to take her left hand and place it. “Now, your other hand.”
She hesitated.
“Go on,”
he encouraged.
She did as she was told.
“Now, hold her steady.”
He slackened his already loose grip, poised to let her take the controls.
Her eyes grew huge as her gaze flicked to his hands. “You’re not going to let go, are you?”
The plane lurched.
She leaned into him. Her thigh pressed to his, hard.
He reached over and, as calmly as he could, covered her small hand with his own, steadying Betty.
“Eve,”
he said, his voice low, “I let go some time ago. Relax and keep her steady. You can do this. Do you trust me?”
He watched her take a deep breath. She nodded, squared her shoulders, and gripped the yoke with newfound confidence.
It hit him like a hammer to the forehead. It was easy to imagine doing this with her, and often. There were so many things he wanted to show her, so many places left for him to explore, and all of them would be much more enjoyable with her by his side.
Eve
“Welcome to fabulous Seligman, Arizona.”
Eve looked below. Brown, barren ground and a couple of buildings that appeared to be white shacks. “Where’s the airport?”
“That is the airport.”
She looked again. “It’s dirt!”
“It’s Arizona.”
She licked her lips. “I don’t see the tower?”
“There is none. This field is uncontrolled.”
She swallowed. “How—”
“It’s not a free-for-all. We talk to one another. Everyone knows who’s here and where they are.”
He cued the mic. “Seligman traffic, Cessna 458 Lima Alpha, six miles southeast, will overfly the field for a left midfield downwind entry for runway four, Seligman.”
Eve relaxed a little. It helped that she could spot no other planes around. “Where’s the runway?”
He pointed.
“OK, I see it. Well, good, at least it’s paved.”
She eyed the little strip. “Looks short.”
“Betty only requires about fifteen hundred feet for takeoff, and half that for landing. She can even land on dirt if necessary. All we need is enough clear space. We’re good.”
Betty was flying much slower now. He eased her downward, staying parallel to the runway.
“Seligman traffic, Cessna 458 Lima Alpha, downwind for runway four, Seligman.”
Watching him handle this little plane with easy skill was a whole other level of turn-on. It was so different from being in the back of a jet with him somewhere up front, away from view, in a huge cockpit full of buttons, lights, and switches. This was intimate, and she had a front-row seat. He was so close; all she had to do was move an inch, and her leg would be pressed to his again.
Suddenly, Adam began adjusting multiple things quickly while looking inside and outside.
Was something wrong? “What are you doing?”
“GUMPS check. Gas, undercarriage, mixture, propeller, switches,”
he said tersely. “We’ll talk more on the ground.”
She took this as a hint to stop asking questions and let him land the plane. Yeah, good idea, that.
“Seligman traffic, Cessna 458 Lima Alpha, left base for runway four, Seligman.”
He eased the yoke to the left. Betty dipped smoothly, then began to turn, one wing pointing to the ground, the other toward the sky, and started a gradual descent.
“Seligman traffic, Cessna 458 Lima Alpha, two-mile final, Seligman.”
Soon, they were close to the ground. With a gentle hand, he began pulling back on the yoke. Betty slowed even more and leveled off elegantly, and Eve felt a thrill that nothing else had given her before.
She now understood why Adam loved this. Such power and freedom, to escape into the heavens on a whim, returning to earth whenever you wanted, while being in complete control of what was truly a miracle of human innovation.
Betty settled above the runway. Adam’s hands were steady on the yoke. It felt as if the plane glided forever before the wheels touched down so softly, they seemed to kiss the ground.
Adam applied the brakes, but Betty charged ahead as if she was loath to land and wanted to take off again.
Happy laughter escaped Eve’s lips as everything skimmed past the window at high speed.
Finally, they came to a halt.
Adam let go of the yoke. He glanced around, a satisfied smile curving his lips, then stared out the windshield for a moment.
Suddenly, he leaned over, pulling her to him and taking her mouth in a thorough, spine-tingling kiss, fingers stroking the back of her neck, his lips soft, tongue more and more demanding. A roar in her ears competed with Betty’s buzzing engine as Eve kissed him back, heart pounding.
Just as swiftly, he pulled away, headset slightly askew, his heated blue gaze pinning her to her seat. “Been wanting to do that since takeoff,”
he admitted. “Now, let’s get off the runway.”
They taxied to the ramp, where Adam parked and shut off the engine. He draped his headset on the yoke. She did the same, rubbing her ears, which had gotten a little hot.
Not much around, she noted, except for a few white buildings that looked like storage sheds.
“Hang on a sec. I need to tie her down.”
He opened his door and stepped out, then stretched, causing his polo to ride up and give her a peek of his lower abs.
Adam reached in the back and found two lengths of rope, using them to quickly secure Betty to rings fixed in the asphalt.
“There are two aircraft based at this airport. I know both owners. We have a ride to take us to the restaurant. Should be behind that building.”
The ride, she soon discovered, was a yellow Volkswagen Beetle convertible with a black cloth top and “Honey Bug”
graphics on the rear fenders.
Her lips twitched. How was he going to fit inside that little “Honey Bug”?
This, she had to see.
Somehow, he managed to avoid looking awkward even as he folded his tall self to enter the cramped space.
“Oh, yeah.”
He grinned, running his hands along the steering wheel and fingering the black-and-white crest of a wolf standing atop a castle. “I feel eighteen again.”
She settled in the caramel-colored vinyl seat. “OK, what is the horsepower on this thing?”
“Forty-eight.”
Eve laughed. “From that stealth beast of yours to this, in the same day?”
“The beauty of flying. One minute you’re somewhere, the next, your entire latitude changes.”
He found the key in the cupholder. “Hey, don’t knock this Bug. She can go eighty miles per hour. Just takes her longer to get there.”
He started the ignition. “One of these got me through four years of college.”
“You had a Bug?”
He nodded. “But not the convertible. Imagine that in the winter wind in North Dakota. And mine sure didn’t have air conditioning. Or cupholders. This guy added some nice upgrades.”
He threw the shifter in reverse and backed out of the space. “I don’t know about you, but I could do two burgers right about now.”
“Not sure I could do two, but one sounds great.”
Eve watched his fingers on the knob as he changed gears and had to squeeze her thighs together. Stick shifts were sexy. Adam driving one bordered on erotic.
Two minutes later, they pulled up in front of a brick building with a red roof and siding. A giant white sign on the front read, in huge black letters, Roadkill Café. Route 66.
Eve raised a brow in surprise. “Well, that was a short trip.”
“Good thing. I’m starving.”
He parked the VW, and they headed toward the door, gravel crunching under their shoes. Several farm implements decorated the entrance, along with a metal turkey vulture on an iron perch, holding a knife and fork.
Adam held the door for an older couple who were exiting.
“That was the best hamburger I’ve ever had!”
the woman enthused.
“Agnes,”
the man said, snickering, “it was elk.”
Instant horror dawned on the woman’s face. “Now, you tell me?”
“Would you have eaten it if I had told you before?”
Eve didn’t hear her angry reply but threw Adam a worried glance.
He chuckled. “They have beef too. Unless you’d prefer that fabulous elk patty.”
Eyes widening, Eve vigorously shook her head, earning a low, rumbling laugh from him.
Instant warmth spread in her chest. She wished he’d laugh more often.
Inside was crowded, clean, and inviting, with an old-timey feel. All sorts of farm tools covered the knotty, wood-paneled walls, and a taxidermy display near the bar featured animals staged to appear very much alive.
“This place is wild,”
she said to Adam as they followed the hostess to their table.
“Literally.”
He eyed the open-mouthed wild boar head that stared out above the dollar-bill-covered bar area.
The menu was just as outrageous as the décor. “Rigor Mortis Tortoise,”
Eve read aloud. “Fender Tenders. One-eyed Dog Hit in the Fog. Oh my God.”
“Believe it or not, a friend of mine once saw someone walk out of here after reading the menu.”
Eve laughed. “I’ll have the Swirl of Squirrel.”
“Great choice. I’ll have two.”
The burgers were delicious, but Eve gave up after finishing three-quarters of her food. The Swirl of Squirrel came with a slew of toppings, plus coleslaw and fries, making it impossible for her to eat it all.
Adam, however, had no such problem. He made short work of his food, albeit pushing aside the Texas toast and hash browns.
The waitress bustled over and refilled their water glasses. “Leave any room for dessert? We have a great homemade cream pie.”
She smiled with pride. “Best you’ll ever have, I promise.”
Adam gave her a polite smile. “So I’ve been told.”
He took Eve’s hand and began to stroke the back of it. “What do you say?”
he asked her, his low voice dripping with sensual promise. “Shall we take some to go for later?”
His fingertips were doing wild things to her body. She ran her tongue over her lips. “OK.”
He held her gaze. “Let’s do it.”
Gently, he kissed her hand.
Electric shocks zinged from Eve’s chest down to her thighs.
He nodded at the waitress. “We’ll take that pie to go.”
He turned to Eve. “Ready to go topless in the Honey Bug?