Chapter 1 #2
“Lieutenant Hank Hawley, at your service.” He gestured with his cigar as he sprawled on a rickety wood folding chair leaning against the wall of the hangar. How did she miss him in the shadows?
Standing slowly, he sauntered into a shaft of light, and she was free to take a long, appraising look.
He was in white shirtsleeves, the fabric clinging to his muscular chest, leaving little to the imagination.
The loose khaki pants of an army pilot’s uniform ballooned around his thighs then tucked into knee-high boots.
His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing powerful forearms. He had a tattoo she couldn’t make out on the arm holding the cigar.
His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, and she could see a hint of hair just above the V of his neckline.
In short, he looked like he stepped out of one of her dreams.
After all, how many times had she fantasized about being whisked away from her coddled life by a brave and dashing pilot? If she was alone in her bedroom, she might have imagined undoing the rest of his buttons, one by one, until she reached the waist of his pants. And then…
Oh God. She must have drunk too much champagne. Stiffening, she shook her head and sat up straight, attempting to clear her wayward thoughts. If she was going to get out of this, she needed her wits about her.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his chocolaty voice soothing her as he put his hands up. “Frankly, I’m wondering whether this is real. Maybe I’m dreaming up the gorgeous angel that has landed in my cockpit.”
His brilliant brown eyes had a reckless, wild look to them, and a lock of dark hair fell over his forehead. He was clean-shaven, but the shadow of a day’s growth darkened his jaw.
“A dream. Yes, definitely a dream. Now go back to sleep and pretend you never saw me.”
Climbing out of the wooden fuselage, trying not to expose too much leg, she stepped down the ladder hurriedly. Her high heels crunched as she reached the gravel floor. She backed away from him, carefully keeping out of reach.
“Forgive my haste,” she said, “but I do believe I’ll be going.”
She turned and started walking briskly, trying not to wobble on the uneven ground. There was always a chance it would work. Then she had to go and trip.
“Now hold on a minute.” He clamped a hand strong as a vise around her arm and steadied her before she fell.
Damnit. She was caught.
“It’s not safe for a lady like you to wander around an empty racetrack in the dark. Tell me what you’re doing here, and I’ll take you back where you belong.”
He let her go slowly, making sure she was steady, then pulled a flashlight from his pocket and turned it on her.
Frozen in place, she watched him take her in—the shimmering golden gown that hugged her curves and barely covered her knees; the dripping diamonds that flashed and sparked in the light; the blonde curls, tied back in a careful chignon.
She looked every inch the tipsy socialite that she was, damn it all.
His smoldering coffee-colored eyes sparked with dangerous interest for a moment. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”
Oh hell. He recognized her. It was only a matter of time until he realized who she was.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, heart pounding a mile a minute. “Just let me go, and pretend you never saw me. It’s all a dream. I’m not really here.” Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as she waited to see how he would respond.
He put the flashlight down on the bottom wing of a nearby biplane and stepped close. Their shadows stretched larger than life against the far wall of the hangar.
“You know a high-class girl like you really shouldn’t spend time in an empty hangar at midnight with a guy like me.”
She stayed still and silent, praying he would let her go, though some part of her relished the danger. The heart-pounding rush of courting peril had always held an undeniable appeal for her.
“So why is a nice girl like you sneaking around here like a burglar?”
“Who said I was a nice girl?” The words came out before she could stop them. God, she must have lost her mind to blurt out something like that to a stranger in the night.
“Hmm,” he said with an appreciative smile.
“You do look like sin wrapped in silk.” He leaned in, and his breath tickled her neck.
Something electric crackled between them, and she could hardly breathe.
Then he took a step back, holding his hands up again.
“But on the off chance I’m not dreaming, I’m going to keep my hands off you and behave like a gentleman. ”
She wasn’t sure whether to flee or lean in. This was all so unreal, and her head was so addled by the heady mix of hazard, attraction, and champagne. “Thank you. I’m having a very bad night, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would let me go.”
His gaze softened. “You’re free to go any time you like, but I really would prefer to take you back to wherever it is you came from.
It isn’t safe for a girl in diamonds to wander around at night like this.
Where did you come from, anyway? Gorgeous socialites don’t exactly come wandering into my hangar every day. ”
She raised an eyebrow. “Your hangar? I thought it was the Belmont family’s hangar.” Oh dear. She shouldn’t have said that.
“Shit.”
And there it was. His eyes widened with realization, and his body froze. She was no longer his mystery angel in the night.
“You’re Aurora Belmont.”
“I prefer ‘Rory.’ Only my father calls me Aurora,” she said, struggling to keep her composure.
“You’re the daughter of August Belmont Jr., the financier who owns the land we’re standing on, not to mention half of New York City. You’re that Aurora Belmont.”
He backed up several steps and stared.
“Yes, I’m that Aurora Belmont.”
“Worse yet, he’s an army major now, from what I’ve heard, which makes him my superior officer.”
She should have been relieved that he was backing away like he’d seen a ghost. Why was she disappointed by his sudden distance? “Are you going to let me go back to my party at the Turf and Field Club?”
He looked like a man enthralled by a cobra.
“Yes, Miss Belmont.”
“Call me Rory.”
“No, thank you, Miss Belmont. I’d prefer not to be overly familiar with a woman whose father could have me hanged for looking at her wrong.”
She rolled her eyes.
“That’s absurd. My father has never hanged anyone. Shot, yes. He’s serving in the war, after all.” She backed away and started heading for the barn doors without him, determined to make her escape.
“On the other hand, anything could happen to you out there alone in the night. I’d better see you safely back to your party even if it does mean risking my neck.” He jogged after her.
“I assure you it’s not necessary.” She picked up the pace.
“And I assure you, it is,” he said, easily catching up with her. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t look out for a damsel in distress?”
“I am not a damsel in distress.” She walked a bit faster, even if his concern was rather touching. It wouldn’t do to be seen with a strange man. People would certainly assume the worst, especially after Archie.
“Oh, then you’re happy to be going back to whatever fancy party you ran away from?”
No, she wasn’t, but she could hardly tell him that. “My fiancé won’t be pleased if I come back to our engagement party with a strange man.”
“You ran away from your own engagement party? Are they trying to marry you off to some old geezer or something, Miss Belmont?”
She stopped in her tracks and turned on him. His guesses were a little bit too close to the mark.
“He’s not that old.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Damn. She shouldn’t have included the “that.” “For your information, he’s only forty-three, not old at all.” Not like some of the prospective husbands her father tried to foist on her before he landed on Edward. Uninspiring as Edward was, he was the best of the lot.
“Still twice your age, I’d wager.” Hank’s eyes were filled with insufferable pity as he reached out to touch her but stopped short.
“For a man so terrified of my father, you’re awfully forward. Why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself?” She scowled as her pulse quickened.
“Yes, Miss Belmont,” he said, but he held her gaze.
For a moment, it was as if he could see into her soul—all the pain and vulnerability she hid from the world laid bare.
She braced herself for his disdain. After all, there was nothing the men in her life despised more than displays of feminine weakness.
But instead, his expression was filled with kindness and compassion, and something inside her broke.
Swallowing hard, she turned away and began walking again with him trailing several feet behind.
“I’ll be leaving now,” she said, spotting the door to the club. “Or are you going to follow me in there and ruin my reputation all over again?”
To her infinite relief, he stopped. “Good luck, princess.”
Pausing, she felt scorched by a pair of soulful brown eyes. She turned her head one last time, glancing at his silhouette.
“Goodbye, Hank.”
Heart pounding, she walked back into the club.