Some Kind of Wonderful (Puffin Island 2)

He had no idea, but he was beginning to wish he’d kept his mouth shut.

As she stepped towards the plane, he caught the light scent of her perfume. His senses spun and desire ripped through him. As someone who rarely had a problem controlling his feelings, it was irritating to discover that lusting after someone wasn’t something you could turn off.

He gritted his teeth, pushed down the surge of awareness and watched as Brittany strolled around the plane and then stood with her hands on her hips and her head tilted to one side. “Is this a good moment to tell you that the nose is crooked?”

The sunlight added polish to her hair and her skin, and the breeze played with a loose strand, whipping it across her face.

She was arresting rather than pretty, her body honed to an impressive level of fitness from a life spent outdoors. But what really drew him wasn’t the dip of her waist or the curve of her mouth, it was the energy that pulsed from her, the sense of optimism that sent a thousand volts of positivity into the surrounding air. She was the type of person who assumed the toast would always land buttered-side up. He’d heard her described as “the girl next door” and had never really understood that because she was nothing like the neighbors he’d had growing up.

All he knew was that she was sexy as hell.

He wanted to bury himself in her. He wanted to take her, right there and then, like the animal he was fairly sure he was.

Instead he reached for a cloth and wiped his hands, focusing on the small things to try to distract from the feelings that were driving him crazy. “That’s normal.” His voice was surprisingly level given the fact that his willpower was stretched to breaking point. “The engine is canted down three degrees and to the right five degrees. Helps minimize propeller effects during power-ups.”

He prayed she wasn’t going to start talking to him about thrust or propulsion or he’d be in serious trouble.

The corner of her mouth dimpled into a smile. “I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Do you want me to explain?”

“No. This is your domain. I’ve never been a nervous flyer but if I knew the details, that might change. We should probably go, shouldn’t we? I don’t want to be late for my appointment.” She was talking a little too fast, the fingers on her good hand fiddling with the strap of her purse.

Recognizing the gesture, Zach frowned. He saw the same thing in passengers used to flying first-class in a jumbo jet, where most of the time they forgot they were even in the air. A small plane was a different experience and, for some, an unnerving one. “You don’t need to be anxious.”

“Why would I be anxious? You don’t scare me, Zach. You never did.”

He watched her for a long moment, absorbing the implications behind her answer. “I was talking about the plane.”

“Oh.” She captured a wayward strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, exposing the streak of pink on her cheek. “The answer is still no. I’m fine. I know you’re a good pilot. And it’s not as if it’s my first time.”

He wished she hadn’t used those exact words.

He remembered her first time.

Judging from the deepening color in her cheeks, she did, too.

She mumbled something unintelligible and then turned and climbed the steps into the plane leaving him wondering if it was safe to be standing this close to a tank of aviation fuel.

The way he was feeling right now, the aircraft was likely to ignite.

He followed her up the steps and saw her fumbling to fasten the belt without damaging her injured wrist. Her teeth were clamped on her lip as she focused on getting it done. She didn’t want his help and he didn’t want to give it.

He didn’t trust himself to be that close to her.

He was sure that both of them were relieved when the belt clicked home.

Wordless, he handed her a headset and settled h

imself in the cockpit, grateful for the routines and discipline that distracted him from the woman seated behind him.

The takeoff was smooth and the flight short and uneventful.

Once in the air, Zach forgot about his passenger. For a short flight like this one he chose not to switch on the autopilot, preferring to hand-fly the airplane. That strategy had kept him alive in icy conditions in Alaska, where he’d discovered the autopilot could mask cues. He listened to the airplane, drew on training, experience and sheer gut instinct. And he loved every moment. That part had never changed. His love for flying hadn’t reduced since that first time Philip had taken him up. If anything, it had deepened.

Twenty minutes later, he landed and checked on his passenger, only to find her asleep.

“Brittany.” He said her name, got no response and braced his hands on the arms of her seat. “Brittany.” This time he said it louder and she stirred, her eyes opening slowly, as if her eyelids were too heavy to lift.