The Rogue And The Rich Girl

Their legs brushed. Worn, nearly threadbare jeans melded to his thighs like a second skin. A jolt of awareness pierced her. His masculine scent—that of adventure spiced with danger—surrounded her, making the cockpit intimate.

He grinned wolfishly; he didn’t apologize.

She scooted away, pressing her right shoulder against the cold glass window. She could survive anything for two days, she told herself. Including Ace Lawson.

After all, she was paying his wages.

And that made him just another employee.

Vaguely she wondered why that thought gave her absolutely no comfort.

Two

Several hours later, a pocket of turbulence jolted the plane. Nicole wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, desperate to keep the consuming panic at bay. But remembering Ace’s previous instructions, she forced herself to focus in the distance.

“That’s a girl,” he said.

She found the deep resonance of his voice oddly reassuring. Nicole clung to the lifeline of his calmness, and decided not to be ruffled by his patronizing manner.

Flying was the worst part of her job. Even though she’d logged nearly one hundred thousand air miles for the company her father started and she fought to save, Nicole had been unable to overcome the constant terror.

And this flight was worse than many of the others. Despite Ace’s earlier remarks, she hadn’t expected the comfort of a Learjet, but neither had she been prepared for the Cessna’s cramped confines.

Each sensation was magnified tenfold, from the loudness of the creaking fuselage and constant drone of the engine, to the shudder of the seat and roll of dash instruments.

She hadn’t thought she would have to sit so close to the pilot. His muscular thigh, wrapped in faded-to-white denim, pressed against her own, much softer leg. Sensually.

Each time he reached to check an instrument or map, his motions rippled through her. The faint scent of the tropical after-shave clinging to his neck seemed much more potent to her neglected senses than the hundred-dollar-an-ounce cologne she was accustomed to on her male colleagues and rare dates.

He shifted, his hip bone brushing her thigh. She sucked in a huge gulp of air. The man was dangerous, more unnerving than flying, and the aura of power he possessed told her that for the first time ever, she was way out of her league.

Since she’d grown up and learned to deal with the crisscrossing of scars left by an uncomfortable childhood, that of never fitting in or belonging, never being quite good enough, Nicole had allowed no man close enough to bother her.

And she wouldn’t start with Ace Lawson.

Straightening, she inched away from the close contact of their bodies.

“I have to stop to refuel before the last stint that’ll take us over water.”

The unease in Nicole’s stomach became acid. Needing another dose of Dramamine, she shifted as much as the restricting belt allowed. She grappled behind the seat for her suitcase. When her fingers were unable to locate anything except the coarseness of canvas and layers of maps, she asked, “Where’s my suitcase?”

“Under my duffel bag.” He turned to her. “You’re not sick again, are you?”

“I’m nervous about the landing,” she admitted.

“I’ll take it easy and steady,” he promised.

She wondered if he was only talking about the plane.

“But if you need more medicine right away, there’s probably some in the first-aid kit.”

She glanced around. “Where’s that?”

“My duffel.”

The idea of rifling through his personal effects bothered her...more than the thought of the landing. “I’ll be okay.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But there’s no need for heroics. In fact, I’d much prefer you didn’t attempt it.”

He guided the plane through puffy clouds. Nicole focused on a spot in the distance.

“Almost there.”

The plane rocked and bounced as the runway rose to meet them. She gripped the bottom of the seat until numbness froze her hands.

“You can wake up now, Sleeping Beauty.”

Nicole emerged from her self-imposed trance like a caterpillar transformed into a butterfly. She blinked, relieved to discover Ace taxiing to the tie-down area.

“You’re still alive,” he said.

“Tell that to my stomach.”

Ace laughed softly, then shook his head. He maneuvered the plane into the spot indicated by an attendant. When he shut down the engine, he turned to Nicole. “You hungry?”

“Couldn’t eat a thing.”

“You should try something light. This’ll be your last opportunity for a decent meal until tonight.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

He lifted a broad shoulder in a hint of a shrug, then dropped it again just as quickly. “We’ll be leaving in about fifteen minutes.”

Ace swung his long legs to the ground, then came around to her side of the plane. He offered his hand, and she accepted it, surprised by the tingle that chased up her spine at the warmth of his touch.

He released her, moving back a few steps. The motion caused his jacket to flap open. Something metallic glinted in the bright sunlight. She looked again. The handle of a knife.

Nicole gulped. A long knife, the size of the one she carved with at home, was sheathed in a leather holster. Her heart rate jumped. No man she’d ever known owned a knife like that, much less packed it casually on his waist. Instinctively, she knew he had the knowledge to wield it. A shiver of fear traced her spine.

“Is that really necessary?” she asked, her voice betraying her fear.

He followed her gaze. “This?” He pulled the knife from its home with a fluid motion and a vicious hiss.

The sunshine refracted in a hundred different directions, shooting rainbow colors into the sky. The brightness of the glint made her blink several times.

“Yes, it’s really necessary.”

Pulling her gaze away from the wickedly serrated metal edge, she looked directly into Ace’s hooded eyes. He’d certainly drawn the weapon quickly, proving his lazy good looks deceptive. “I received a letter from Governor Rodriguez just a few days ago, saying he was anxious to talk again. He wants this account saved as much as my client does.” As much as I do, she thought.

“No doubt,” he agreed.

His silence, combined with a tense stance, made her push on. In her years as a leader in the corporate world, she’d learned to read body language. And Ace’s screamed he was hiding something. “Go on,” she encouraged. “If you have something to say, say it.”

In a single flip of the wrist, he expertly returned the knife to its worn home. “Look, Ms. Jackson, I have plenty to say about this trip of yours to Cabo de Bello. Regardless of that, my job is to get you there...”