She thought back to five years ago when she'd done just that and the payoff had been amazing....
She could hardly believe she was finally on a real, honest-to-God date with Lucas Quade. Not just sharing a garden bench during lunch, the birds capturing as much of his attention as she did.
Although when she'd dreamed of their first date, she hadn't envisioned anything like this.
Sara gripped the rails alongside the glider's clear glass canopy. Lucas sat in the seat in front of her, steering them through the endless stretch of sky alongside the mountain ridge. The sleek fiberglass wings sliced through the air, Lucas finessing the craft through updrafts to keep them aloft.
After snagging churrascos from a street vendor, Lucas had taken her to a small airfield where he'd rented a glider for the afternoon. At least he'd warned her ahead of time to wear shorts and gym shoes. So much for a more sophisticated look to impress her date, who happened to be ten years older than she was.
She'd hoped to wear high heels because he seemed to think she had pretty feet. Wasn't she pathetic that she lapped up praise for her feet? Although the way his hot, hot, Dios-mio-hot eyes seared over her, she thought perhaps he liked the rest of her, too.
Thank heavens, because she was liking him more and more every day and this reticent man gave little encouragement.
But she couldn't complain about the casualness of their date. What an amazing view of her countryside, towering mountains covered in vegetation. A person could get lost for months inside those lush jungles, any straight path cut by the winding rivers and streams.
"Do you want to try flying?" he called over his shoulder.
She stared at the stick in front of her and the rudders at her feet, moving in tandem with the set Lucas controlled up front. The airspeed indicator on her simple control panel read fifty knots. "I believe I'll leave the flying to you."
He laughed low. "Fair enough, but feel free to hold the stick and follow if you'd like."
"Maybe next time."
"Next time we can try a hot air balloon."
"And you also fly military cargo planes."
"Just call me Chuck Yeager. There's nothing I can't fly."
"Chuck who?"
He chuckled. "Never mind. Forget it."
Oh, she wouldn't forget it. In fact, she would find out about this Chuck Yeager fellow and anything else that might give her hints about Lucas.
Silence in the engineless craft surrounded her as completely as the crystal-blue sky. Would his eyes turn as crystalline when he kissed her for the first time? Silly, frivolous thoughts. But damn it all, she'd worked hard to make this man notice her. She deserved a little fanciful reveling.
After meeting him in the press brief—and nearly dropping her steaming cup of Colombian roast right down the front of her dress—she'd been determined to find out more about him. Which would take some work since he'd barely spoken two words to her that didn't have to do with translating for the reporters.
She'd learned where he lunched, in the garden with his birds, away from people. Just when she'd been ready to make her move and join him, he'd suddenly skipped lunch there three days in a row. She'd almost exhausted her bubble supply waiting for him every afternoon.
Then finally, success. A whole month of lunches later—but sheesh, he was worth the wait—he'd finally asked her out.
"Tell me about your family."
His question—or command—made her grin as they skimmed over the jungle ceiling. Finally he was instigating a personal conversation rather than discussing work.
"I have only my father and brother." She lost herself in the endless blue sky. "My mother died of complications from a surgery when I was a teenager."
"I'm sorry."
"As am I." She could have used a woman's advice to figure out this man.
"Your father was the overprotective type?"
"He spoiled me rotten." Smothered her.
"Didn't he have family to help?" He dipped the left wing, angling around a jutting mountain.