The Rescue Pilot Page 10

  “We tipped a little,” Yuma remarked, “but not much. The really horrifying part was wondering about the two of you.”

  “Yeah,” said Wendy an amused note in her voice. “The candles didn’t even slide. We were fine in here.”

  “Thank God for that,” Chase said.

  Cait managed to lean forward and put her mug of broth on the table. Then she tugged her hand from beneath the blanket and reached out to grasp Rory’s. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she murmured. Then her eyes fluttered closed, the last of her energy once again drained.

  “Okay,” Wendy announced. “The two of you go get some sleep. I think we’re all going to be basically catnapping until we get out of here. I know I’m too wide awake to sleep now.”

  But Rory wasn’t, she realized. The cold and the effort outside, plus the altitude made her wearier than she could remember being in a long time. Her eyelids seemed to be weighted in lead, and her limbs felt heavy. She could have slept right there. But even as she thought of lying down and sleeping, the desire for a bed grew even stronger. She gently drew her hand from Cait’s slackened grip but hesitated, feeling guilty. Finally she gathered herself, needing to stretch out, needing the relative darkness, needing the comfort of a pillow to make sleep seem possible and right.

  Odd, clinging to such a little notion in the midst of this mess. But God, she needed sleep or she was going to be worse than useless to her sister and everyone else. At last she pushed herself to her feet and started to the back of the plane.

  “Thanks for watching Cait,” she said to Wendy.

  “It’s easy,” Wendy assured her. “When I start to crash, I’ll wake you, so don’t worry.”

  “Thank you.”

  She doffed her jacket, snowpants and boots, this time keeping the felt boot liners on so her feet wouldn’t get cold. It was definitely much chillier in the back of the plane than in the cabin, and she argued with herself for all of ten seconds about trying to sleep in the cabin before giving in to the lure of a very comfortable bed.

  A short time after she stretched out on her side, she felt the blankets lift as Chase slipped in behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

  “Warmth,” he said.

  She couldn’t disagree. All of a sudden the small room didn’t feel so cold, nor did she feel quite so alone.

  “Thanks for saving me out there,” she said.

  “No problem. Not like I was going to stand by while that wing took off your head or broke your neck.”

  A little shiver ran through her as she remembered those moments. She had been so close to death or serious injury.

  The shiver was misinterpreted. Chase immediately wrapped himself tighter around her and rubbed her arm gently.

  “Sleep,” he said. “God knows we’re going to need clear heads before long.”

  Sleepy as she had been, now she felt wide awake to every nerve ending in her body. Her nipples had swollen, and each breath caused them to brush against the fabric of her bra, each time causing a pleasant tingle. She remained perfectly still, afraid of betraying how she felt, as syrupy desire steadily filled her. How was this possible? With all that was going on, how could she even be feeling this?

  But the attempted guilt trip died as her body begged for more intimate touches, more intimate knowledge of the man who shared his warmth with her.

  He shifted a little, and grew still.

  Asleep? she wondered. But no, his breathing seemed more rapid, not the deep slow rhythms of sleep. Could he be feeling the same things? The same aching desire?

  In spite of every voice in her head that screamed warnings, she wiggled a little back against him.

  And felt it. Chase was as hard as a rock against her rear, as hungry for her as she was for him.

  More objections popped up, thoughts about how she didn’t know him, how her sister was in the next cabin at death’s door, what a dangerous situation they were in. All the logical things that should be standing between her and these unwanted feelings.

  But her body didn’t agree. The desire that had begun to flame in her burned away all those rational objections, leaving her damp, hungry and needier than she could ever remember feeling.

  And then it totally betrayed her, her hips arching back toward him.

  She heard him catch his breath. He knew. She wanted to feel shame, but couldn’t.

  Then a shiver ripped through her as his hot lips found the nape of her neck, almost tentatively, in a soft kiss.

  A whisper of breath escaped her, just a tiny bit—too quiet to be a moan. No sound. No sound, because there were people on the other side of an accordion door. Silence.

  He kissed her again and she trembled.

  She heard him whisper, “Oh, hell, you’re going to hate me.”

  At that moment she couldn’t believe it would ever be possible to hate Chase Dakota, unless he pulled away right then.

  But he didn’t pull away. His lips trailed to her ear, and she felt his hot breath in her ear. She shivered again and this time clasped his hand, holding onto it for dear life, giving consent. Maybe even begging.

  “You are so sexy,” he whispered in her ear, his breath causing her to shiver with longing again. “So sexy.”

  That was the last thing either of them said.

  His hand tugged free of hers, slipping up beneath layers of clothing to find her naked breast, already aching for his touch. He brushed his thumb over her nipple, driving her insane with need, causing her to feel damp between her legs.

  Over and over he teased that nipple, causing shocks of pleasure to tear through her as if on wings. His lips left moist patches on her neck, on her cheeks that grew cold as soon as he moved on. The contrast excited her even more.

  Slowly, her hips pressed back against him, feeling his stiffness, thrilled by it. Little by little she began to rock in the rhythm of love, not caring how or when, knowing only that she was helpless to stop this now. The longing he evoked left her mindless.

  She retained only enough sense to hold back her moans, and it wasn’t easy. She wasn’t a normally noisy lover, but he made her want to cry out over and over.

  Then suddenly his hand slipped downward. He didn’t even unfasten her pants. He cupped her hard, almost forcing a groan from her. She rocked into that pressure, needing it and more. Then his hips met the rhythm of hers, pressing into her bottom in time with the squeezing, rubbing motion of his hand.

  She felt surrounded by desire, claimed as she’d never been claimed before. Aching, needing, helpless, trapped between his hands and his hips in deepening desire.

  A slave to the feelings he awoke in her, and glad to be right there, right then.

  His ministrations continued, somehow unbearably sexy, sexier than if he’d stripped the clothes from her body. It felt deliciously illicit, and her hunger discovered new heights.

  Squeezing and rubbing, pressing himself against her from the other side, he created a rope of passion that bound her to him as tightly as if he had entered her.

  At the very pinnacle, she thought she would shatter. She had to bite her lip to keep herself from screaming, literally.

  As clenching waves of satisfaction ripped through her, she felt him stiffen, then shudder. He had found his completion, too.

  Chapter 6

  He never took his hand away from her, but continued to hold her tightly, making her feel claimed and oddly safe. As sleep fought to take her, she found it easier to let it. He had drained all the tension from her, leaving her soft, tired and so relaxed.

  When she awoke, Chase was rolling away from her.

  “Wendy says she’s having trouble keeping her eyes open.”

  At once Rory sprang to her feet. She felt the need to wash, to change, but even changing into something from her carry-on needed to wait. Cait first.

  Chase was out of the bedroom almost before her feet hit the floor. She smiled rather grimly. He probably wanted a postmortem about as much as she did, which was to say not at all.

&n
bsp; Their unorthodox sex needed to be confined to some dustbin at the back of their memories for many good reasons. If the memory of those moments wouldn’t leave her alone, then she’d remind herself of every single one of them.

  It had been good, it had probably been born of adrenaline, their unusual circumstances and some crazy need to affirm life in the face of all the danger they faced. Better to forget it than dwell on it.

  Maybe someday, when she was an old lady, she could drag the memory out and remember the brief period when she’d tossed out every inhibition to be with a stranger. Old ladies could safely indulge those memories, and maybe even cackle over them with glee. If she looked too closely at it right now, she might wonder if she had lost her mind.

  Well, she had, she thought as she slipped her jacket and boots on again, then headed up front to Cait. She’d gone nuts for fifteen or twenty glorious minutes, if that long.

  It was okay to go nuts sometimes. It happened. Over the last few weeks, plenty had been pushing her in that direction.

  Cait was still sleeping, but a touch found her cheek warm, and her breathing seemed regular, if a bit shallow.

  “I got her to cough some more,” Wendy said. “And she had another cup of sweet tea. She seems fine right now.”

  Fine. Not exactly the word Rory would apply, but she understood Wendy’s meaning. “Thank you.”

  Wendy squeezed her arm, then disappeared into the bedroom with her husband.

  “This is a fractured night,” Chase remarked. He glanced at his watch. “Close to endless, too. Coffee? Soup?”

  “Coffee.” She straightened and started to follow him to the galley, but he waved her back.

  “Sit with your sister. I can make coffee.”

  He also probably didn’t want to be too close to her. That might be a good idea right now. Pretend it didn’t happen, and don’t give either of them a chance to talk about it. Sometimes silence was wise, and Rory felt this was one of them.

  But wise or not, she couldn’t help remembering. Judging by her response to the memory, her body wanted a rerun even if her mind warned her it would be dangerous and maybe even stupid. Even with her sister sleeping right beside her. God, was she losing her mind?

  It was as if this crash and her sister’s illness had unleashed a whole bunch of stuff inside her that she’d been keeping under for too long. The side of Aurora Campbell that she never let anyone see: the woman.

  Twenty minutes later Chase returned with steaming mugs and put one on the table in front of her. Then he sat across from her and Cait. Some part of her was surprised that he hadn’t sought the solitude of the cockpit.

  But he didn’t seem to be avoiding her, and that made her feel a bit better. Damn, she was a tangle of emotions right now, acting in a way she wouldn’t ordinarily act, having feelings that seemed to come out of nowhere and didn’t resemble anything remotely logical.

  Why would she have felt bad if he had avoided her? Wasn’t that basically what she was advocating by trying to pretend that nothing had happened?

  She sighed quietly and sipped her coffee, looking again at Cait. No, she couldn’t do a damn thing for her sister right now except sit here and worry. What good was that? So she turned back to Chase.

  “Do you have enough insurance to get another plane?”

  “Of course. I’m covered for everything. But I doubt I’m going to need it. We had a mechanical failure on the first flight after a major overhaul.”

  She nodded. “But you’re out of business for a while.”

  “Yeah, but I can make it. What’s going to tick me off is losing regular customers unless I can rent something in the meantime.”

  “That would be tough. Believe me, I know.”

  “Are you losing customers right now?” he asked bluntly.

  “Not yet. But it could happen if I don’t get back on the job soon enough. For the moment my clients are understanding.” That was something she refused to worry about right now. At this moment in time, Cait was unquestionably more important than a mere business. Even though it had taken her years to build.

  “They should be. Some things come before business.”

  “Not always.”

  “No,” he agreed. He sipped his coffee and put his mug on the table.

  She tried another tack. “So what’s the likelihood that the storm is interfering with the GPS?”

  “I can’t give you percentages. All radio transmissions can be disrupted by atmospheric conditions, and the GPS is trying to reach a satellite. That’s usually more reliable than other line-of-sight methods, which is why I have it, but things can affect it. Ionization in the upper atmosphere, for example. For all I know the aurora is active right now. Then there’s the moisture in the air column. This is a really bad storm, which means lots of moisture at the upper levels, so that could be interrupting the signal. When it starts to pass, we’ll know for sure.”

  She looked at the table in front of her. “I’m not good at being helpless.”

  “Me, neither. But that’s where we are until later today or early tomorrow. I don’t want to muck around with wiring too much until I’m sure it’s not just the storm. I might break something that isn’t broken.”

  A quiet, humorless laugh escaped her. “I second that.”

  He was silent for a minute then said, “You shouldn’t feel so guilty. It’s not your fault that your sister is sick, and you’re doing everything you can.”

  She felt a spark of anger. “That doesn’t help.”

  “I know it doesn’t. Chalk it to something I just needed to say. Cait’s lucky to have you. Too many people have no one at all.”

  There was no argument against that. She had tightened her lips, but now she let them relax. What was the point? Life was what it was, and sometimes it was a bitch.

  Then she caught a possible subtext in what he had said. “Do you have someone?”

  “I have friends. No family. Only child.”

  “Your parents?”

  He nodded. “My dad was a pilot, too. Unfortunately, he had a small single-engine plane of his own. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say unfortunately. He got a lot of pleasure out of it. But two years after I graduated from the academy, they took a trip in Alaska and went down in the mountains.”

  “I’m very sorry.” It struck her that the current situation must be reminding him of that, stirring all kinds of emotional echoes for him. But she didn’t know how to broach the subject. What right did she have to pry? A brief experience of sex didn’t make them any less strangers.

  He looked around the nearly dark cabin. “We were damn lucky,” he said.

  “We had a bigger plane and apparently an outstanding pilot.”

  “Size does make a difference,” he said. Then he startled her by winking.

  “You didn’t just say that!” She had to bite back the most unexpected giggle.

  He cocked a brow. “The air was getting heavy. The situation is heavy enough.”

  “No denying that,” she agreed. Amazing how he had just lightened her mood. Then he surprised her again by leaning over and opening a small drawer under the table. He tossed a pack of cards between them. “Name your poison.”

  How many hours had she spent in oil fields playing cards with her coworkers? More than she could count. She reached for the pack, opened it and pulled the jokers out of the deck. “Seven-card stud,” she said.

  He had some poker chips, too, and soon they were deep in the game. A good form of distraction, and an equally good excuse not to get personal.

  She just wished she knew whether to be grateful for that or not.

  “So,” she said, “tell me about Wendy and Billy Joe.” That seemed safe enough. “Wendy told me a little. They’re an interesting pair.”

  “More interesting than most of us realize. I was young at the time they got together, and too busy with other things to really pay attention to the rumor mill. It did create a stir because he was so much older and folks pretty much had him figured as a per
manent loner.”

  “Because of his PTSD?”

  “Partly, I guess. Like I said, it wasn’t really on my radar. But I got the impression that our old sheriff, Wendy’s dad, was on the horns of a real dilemma.”

  “How so?”

  “Yuma was his friend, and Wendy was his daughter, and he didn’t want either of them getting hurt.” He chuckled quietly. “From what I know of her dad, he probably warned them both off the other. He’s never been a man to mince his words if his dander gets up, and I bet his dander was up about this one.”

  “But age isn’t necessarily a determining factor.”

  “Most of the time I’d agree. But you can imagine where he was coming from. Yuma was a vet with some issues, and Wendy was his little girl. He probably saw disaster written all over it for both of them.”

  “Evidently he would have been wrong.”

  “Evidently. They’ve been married a long time now.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Your deal.”

  Chase was finding it hard to accept that just a few hours ago he had acted like a randy teenager in the back of a car with Rory. The intensity of wanting her had overwhelmed him, especially when he had sensed that she might be feeling the same way.

  He wanted to put it all down to their situation—if anyone knew how danger could heighten the sex drive, it was him—but he couldn’t quite.

  Rory wasn’t just a stranger to him, even though they hadn’t known each other twenty-four hours yet. Situations like this compressed emotional time, and you got to know important things about people when so much was on the line. However, he warned himself to be careful because she was going to be flying on to Minnesota with her sister, then back to Mexico.

  A rueful thought struck him: Maybe all his girlfriend problems over the years had stemmed from his own choices. Maybe, at some level, he kept picking women he knew wouldn’t stick.

  He’d certainly picked one here.

  But having watched Rory with her sister, he knew that while circumstance would carry her away from him, she was at heart a “sticker.” Once she cared about someone, apparently there was no limit to her caring. Yes, people loved their families, but they also had limits. Cait was dying. He was sure insurance wasn’t going to pay for this experimental treatment; it never did. And the cost of hiring him and his plane for this trip was exorbitant.