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.
She grabbed the rail for balance to settle her tumbling stomach, an unsteadiness she suspected had more to do with the man than the sky. "Not really. But he and Tio Ramon—his childhood friend, not an actual brother—are both widowers. They supported each other through the loss of their wives and commiserated over bringing up children alone. They even shared nannies for us, since Tio Ramon's wife was bedridden for a long time before she died."
"Sounds as if your families are close."
A chill settled over her in spite of the warmth of the sun steaming through the clear glider canopy. She knew of Tio Ramon's criminal reputation, most if not all of it true. Was Lucas merely on a fishing expedition for further information? That he might lie to her, even use her for his government...
Her stomach lurched again. Harder. "The embassy did a thorough background check on me."
"I know."
"You saw it?" Nerves smoothed with the first hints of anger. "Then why ask me these questions when you already know everything about me?"
"I like the sound of your voice."
Oh. And how she liked him.
Anger and pain floated away as easily as her bubbles. This man was so much better at compliments than any poetic player rambling on about her eyes or face.