Читать книгу One Night with the Rebel Billionaire - Trish Wylie - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

‘MVY TOWER…MERIDIAN five eight nin-er two November ready to taxi with mike…right turnout southeast bound.’

Only when they were cruising at five and a half thousand feet did Roane truly experience all that she loved best about flying: serenity, control and exhilaration. All around them were blue skies, below them the mirrored aquamarine of the ocean. Things were so calm she could have switched to autopilot. But that would have left time for conversation with her passenger, and it was bad enough he’d got in the cockpit instead of sitting in back where she could have pretended he wasn’t there. So she didn’t.

Unable to resist, she glanced to her side and noticed long fingers tapping restlessly against the taut trouser-clad thigh that was moving to the rhythm of a bouncing heel. An errant smile immediately blossomed in her chest as the realization hit her.

‘Not that good a flier, huh?’

When she bit down on her lower lip to control the smile Adam frowned. ‘I’m good. Thanks.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ She nodded, letting his sarcastic ‘thanks’ roll over her head. ‘The tapping foot is a sure sign of relaxation.’

The tapping of his foot abruptly stopped, long fingers curling into a fist. His knuckles were just white enough for Roane to suspect he was forcibly keeping his leg still. It was the first time since she’d met him on the beach that she’d felt she had the upper hand—it was empowering, especially considering every time she laid eyes on him her hormones seemed to go into overdrive. When he’d turned up at the airport she’d surreptitiously rolled her eyes at how good he looked in a dark suit. One glance at him and every part of her that had ever been attracted to intelligence and wit and congeniality went straight to hell. Apparently to be replaced with a cell-deep genetic need to mate with the strongest of the species for the sake of the human race…

But his reaction to being in the air meant her pilot’s conscience insisted she make small talk to help take his mind off it. Sometimes Roane truly wished she had a meaner streak.

‘Clear skies from here to New York; we won’t even hit turbulence. Honest.’

‘Right.’

Roane studied his tense profile, then took a breath and decided to throw caution to the wind and just say what she thought. ‘You’re not much of a talker, are you?’

Adam’s reply was so low she mightn’t have heard it if they weren’t wearing mikes to go with the matching head sets. ‘The secret of being boring is to say everything.’

Roane stared at him in amazement. He couldn’t be serious. ‘And where did we pick up that excuse?’

‘Voltaire.’

Her brows lifted. ‘Quote of the day?’

The vaguest hint of a smile appeared. ‘No.’

Well, that went well. If Roane didn’t know better she’d have said he was enigmatic on purpose. But before she could steer the conversation in a direction where she might glean some insight, Adam exhaled loudly and leaned back into his seat, his chin dropping as he studied the array of dials and readouts.

‘Tell me how it works.’

He wanted a flying lesson? In Roane’s experience it wasn’t how people who were afraid of flying tended to react. Maybe he meant the theory of it? Okay—she could do the basic theory of it.

‘One sec.’ She engaged the autopilot and leaned back, turning and folding her arms across her breasts. ‘It’s flying itself now. But if the ground suddenly starts looking bigger, yell.’

‘Funny,’ Adam said dryly.

‘Let’s see.’ Roane considered the ceiling for a moment, starting with something she’d read somewhere. ‘Basically it all centres around Newton’s idea that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.’

Then she ad-libbed, warming to her subject, ‘So you know when you let go of an inflated balloon and it flies all over the room? That’s kinda like thrust in an airplane engine; it propels the plane into the air…’ Unfolding an arm, she made a sweep with one hand to highlight the ‘plane into the air’ part; quite pleased with the analogy until she found him studying her with hooded eyes.

His deep voice held an edge of barely concealed disgust. ‘When did you decide I was an idiot?’

Finding her mouth dry, Roane swallowed before coming back with a pathetically weak-voiced, ‘Short Neanderthal grunted answers might possibly have done it.’

‘I understand Newton’s theories.’

A nervous bubble of laughter formed in her chest, but with effort she managed to keep her reaction to a teasing smile. ‘Maybe you could explain them to me some time. I just keep the thing in the air. I’ve never felt the need to know the science that goes with it.’

She batted her lashes innocently.

‘I’m sure to get your pilot’s licence you had to be a step or two up from dumb blonde. How long have you been flying?’

‘A long time—and I haven’t killed anyone…’ she paused for effect, shrugging one shoulder ‘…yet.’

The fleeting smile twitched the corner of his mouth; brown softening the green of his eyes. For a brief second, to Roane’s astonishment, there was even a hint of deep laughter lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, suggesting he laughed more often than she’d had evidence of so far. Leaving her wondering what it would take to make him laugh out loud—without holding back the way he was.

She really wanted to hear that sound.

But the fleeting smile was gone as fast as it arrived. When she studied him he studied her right back and then jerked his head in the direction of the controls. ‘Run me through the basics.’

‘Of actual flying rather than the theory of flight?’

‘Yes.’

Roane sucked her bottom lip in and let it go with a slight ‘pop’, the words coming out before she could stop them. ‘It’s a control thing for you, isn’t it?’

Adam blinked lazily, ‘Could be.’

She couldn’t really work him out, and it was disconcerting. But then it wasn’t as if she were all that worldly-wise. She had met a fairly diverse selection of people in her time, but Adam? Adam was something new. Adam was fascinating to her if she were honest about it, which she wasn’t about to be. At least not out loud.

She adjusted her mike, and when she spoke she heard the distorted version of her own voice echoed louder in her ears. ‘On the floor are pedals that operate the brakes and rudder. Push the right pedal, the rudder turns to the right. Push the left pedal, the rudder turns left. With me so far?’

Adam had dipped his chin and moved his knees apart so he could see the floor. But when she asked the question he glanced sideways, his tone still dry. ‘I’ll try and keep up.’

Roane smiled, turning away to check the readouts while she continued, ‘The pilot controls the airplane by using a control wheel—the stick. This lets you move the elevators on the tail and the ailerons on the wings, which in turn move the airplane. Still with me?’

A deep sigh was magnified by the mike.

Still smiling, Roane shifted positions so she was leaning her upper body closer. ‘Hands on the stick.’

Adam swiped his large palms across his thighs before lifting them and placing them tight on either side of the stick, his knuckles white. So with a roll of her eyes Roane couldn’t seem to stop herself from asking, ‘Jeez, Adam, would you grab hold of a woman like that?’

He shot her a sideways glare.

‘Let me know when you want to find out.’ He flexed his fingers and looked down at the controls. ‘Keep going.’

The throwaway invitation sent a thrumming pulse of anticipation to the centre of her body, even though Roane knew instinctively it had been a knee-jerk reaction to her runaway tongue. ‘Towards you the nose comes up—away the nose goes down. But I warn you, you touch the throttle at any point I may have to kill you myself before we hit the ground…’

He swallowed. ‘And that’s where exactly?’

Roane somehow managed not to laugh. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate it, even if she did tell him her urge to giggle was partly because she was finding the chink in his armour so humanizing. Adam wasn’t the kind of man who would like being told vulnerability was appealing, was he? So instead she reached for his large hands, her smaller ones nowhere near able to cover them as she curled her fingers around his.

‘Between us.’ She kept her gaze focused on their hands when he turned to look for the throttle, the heat of his skin beneath her cool fingers mesmerizing beyond belief to her. What would hands that size feel like on her body? Images immediately flickered through her brain in answer to the silent question, so that when she spoke her voice sounded embarrassingly breathless to her.

‘There. That’s it. A little forwards the nose drops…a little back…and…erm…’

She’d made the mistake of glancing up at him. When she found his face disconcertingly close to hers she faltered; his intense gaze focused on her mouth as she damped her lips. The man really did have the most ridiculously thick eyelashes.

‘The—uh…the nose comes up…’ She swallowed and forced air into her aching chest. Then his scent hit her. She’d been aware of it since they’d closed the cabin doors, but up close…up close and with the heat of his skin to magnify it. Dear heaven…

Roane was no expert, but she was a long-time fan of scented candles. There were notes of citrus in there, maybe blackcurrant…and then there was a hint of sandalwood, a suggestion of mulberry and just possibly a whisper of amber. It was the most enticing combination…

She breathed deep and practically sighed with contentment as she exhaled.

He was staring at her.

And he continued studying her with silent intensity, leaving Roane floundering. ‘Okay, well, erm…left is left and right is right. Basically…’

The smile started in his eyes. ‘Said that too…’

Well, how was she supposed to concentrate with him sitting as close as he was, looking the way he did and smelling as good as he was? Letting go of his hands, she sat back in her seat.

‘Don’t move the stick a minute.’

The change was so smooth it would have taken an expert to notice it. Then Roane was in control again. If Adam was seeking control by asking for the impromptu flying lesson, then she could understand that, she supposed. Having control of her plane again immediately made her feel better. He might be able to take possession of her body’s reactions simply by breathing in and out. But by distracting herself with the everyday business of flying Roane could focus her mind elsewhere. She could.

‘Just relax and feel my movements through the stick. That’s it. Smoothly…’

Suddenly the control she had took on sexual undertones for her. She’d never been in a relationship with a man where she’d had the courage to be one of those women who took control. She’d never asked to be touched a particular way or in a certain place; nothing that might have made the experience better for her. Nope, Roane’s method had always been more along the lines of making approving mumbles and hoping he got the message. But in her plane, where she was totally in control of her environment, even giving instructions to a man like Adam Bryant seemed like the most natural thing in the world to her.

Unfortunately the fact it was a man like Adam made her think about what it would be like to give him a different set of instructions. Like a breathless, Kiss me, Adam. Or, Touch me, Adam…

Since when had she been so obsessed with sex?

Feeling the vibration of the engine through the stick Roane stifled a moan, squirming on her seat in an attempt to ease the unfamiliar tension she felt between her legs. Thankfully when she glanced at Adam he seemed engrossed enough with flying not to have noticed so she damped her lips and told him, ‘Okay. Now you try.’

His fingers flexed around the stick while Adam took a breath and tried to ignore the move she’d just made—he’d seen that shimmy of her hips on the seat. She was more distracting than the flying lesson.

Of all the things he’d mentally prepared for there had never once been the scenario of being instantly viscerally attracted to his little brother’s woman. And woman she was, no matter how much the ‘little girl’ tag he’d given her as a kid still seemed appropriate. Everything about her was little: little fine-boned hands, little wrists he could circle comfortably with his thumb and forefinger, little waist he could probably have spanned with both hands, little breasts that would easily fill his palms…

Yet everything she did and said belied any air of fragility her body intimated. Not that she came across as tough—quite the opposite. She had an air of vulnerability to her that Adam found compellingly fascinating. Not a bad thing considering where he was.

Adam hated small planes.

Her softly feminine voice filled his ears. ‘There you go. You’re flying.’

While Adam focused on the combination of what he was doing and his physical awareness of the woman sitting beside him Roane took the silence to mean she could try making conversation again.

‘Is it weird being back?’

‘At the Vineyard?’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

‘How can it not be? You’ve been gone a long time.’

Adam didn’t take kindly to being called a liar, even subtextually, frowning as he spoke. ‘“My witness is the empty sky.”’

There was a brief silence.

‘Voltaire?’

‘Kerouac.’

When he looked sideways at her she was staring at him and Adam liked that she couldn’t figure him out. It could stay that way as far as he was concerned.

‘You have dozens of these, don’t you?’

Adam felt his mouth twitch. ‘A few.’

‘As a way to avoid making conversation?’

Nope, he could make conversation when he wanted to. ‘You’re not good with silence, then, I take it.’

‘I’m fine with silence.’ Said the woman who had babbled nervously at him all the way through the airport concourse. ‘It’s rudeness that bothers me—I’m just trying to figure out if that’s what you’re doing.’

‘So short sentences make me an idiot—the lack of idle conversation makes me rude.’ Adam took a breath. ‘Anything else?’

There was another moment of silence and then a mumbled, ‘You really couldn’t be any different from Jake if you tried…’

She might not have meant it with quite the same level of contempt his father had any time he’d used similar words, but they had the same effect. Adam felt the echo of adolescent anger roll in on him like a tsunami—destroying any sense of reason or tolerance in its wake the same way it always had. He’d heard the words a million times; said with impatience or frustration or resentment or in disappointment. But the result was always the same. Jake had been the son their father wanted. Adam had fallen short of the mark.

Well, not any more. Maybe Roane Elliott should be the first of them to understand that.

Adam turned his head, dropping his gaze to look her over at his leisure. He heard her sharp intake of breath when he watched the rise and fall of her breasts long enough to see two distinct beads appear against the soft material of her blouse. Then he smiled a slow smile as he looked up at her parted lips, at the flush on her cheeks and finally into the darkened blue of her eyes. Only then did he quirk his brows, his voice a low rumble in the headsets.

‘Ready to find out just how different, little girl?’ He angled his head a little and studied the way her honey-blonde hair curled against her cheek. ‘I saw how you looked at me on the beach last night. Manners and IQ weren’t high on the list of things you were interested in then, were they?’

When she stared at him with widened eyes he leaned a little closer, deliberately looking down the ‘V’of her blouse at the rapid rise and fall of creamy half-circle breasts above the lace of her bra. He watched the beating pulse on one side of her elegant neck, the way she damped her parted lips before sucking in a shaky breath. Then his gaze locked firmly with hers again. ‘You’re right. It is about control with me. But you want to lose it, don’t you? In a way you obviously don’t with my brother or you wouldn’t react to me the way you do. You know I’d take you the way you want to be taken. Hard. And slow. For hours on end…’

There was a brief narrowing of her eyes before he continued, ‘Maybe you should make sure you chose the right Bryant, little girl…’

Roane’s breath caught, she swallowed hard and then her eyes sparkled with a mixture of outrage and desire. ‘I’m not some little girl you can intimidate.’ Her chin lifted defiantly, the husky edge of her voice giving away her physical reaction to his words as much as her body already had. ‘Let go of the stick. Please.’

Adam frowned. ‘Wh—?’

Without warning her knee jerked, and the plane veered violently to the left, throwing Adam away from her. He released the stick as if he’d been burned, his stomach lurching and a violent expletive leaving his mouth. When the plane eased smoothly onto an even keel again he glared angrily at her.

‘What did you do?’

Roane was facing forwards, both hands on the stick and her fine-boned jaw-line set with determination. ‘I’m sorry. My foot must have slipped.’

Meaning she’d kicked the rudder, right? Adam would have laughed at her audacity if she hadn’t just taken a year off his life. His brother had gone and got himself quite the little firecracker.

‘Clever.’

The compliment didn’t earn him any brownie points. ‘Feel free to take your lack of conversational skills to the extreme from here to New York. Or I can give you a demonstration of just what this plane is capable of if you’d prefer…’

Adam knew she wasn’t just referring to the plane. She’d clearly told him not to mess with her. It was a nice try, he’d give her that. It would have worked better if she’d denied anything he’d said about wanting to be taken hard and slow and for hours on end…

The knowledge did several things to Adam.

But what it did most was bring out the primal strand to his DNA code. One that now felt a deep seated need to tame her…

Adam had never backed down from a battle of wills. It had been half his problem for most of his life. So she might have got the upper hand on him this time, but she wouldn’t do it again. She should understand who she was dealing with. All of them should.

She’d just get a more pleasurable version of the lesson…