The Black Sheep and the English Rose (10 page)

“About fifty yards, that way,” he said, nodding. “We'll be about an hour or so behind them, depending on the weather between here and the West Coast.”

“And when we land? Private flight, small airfield means they'll easily be out of the airport by the time we land.”

He pulled her closer, until she was almost flush up against him. She shouldn't allow him the familiarity, but he was already talking before she could convince the rest of her body that she didn't want to be so deeply into his personal space. Mostly because it was a lie. And she was a terrible liar.

“We can plot and strategize once we're in the air. Right now, I'm more interested in finding something to eat before we take off.”

“I couldn't possibly,” she said, pressing her hand to her stomach.

“You have a fear of flying?”

She gave him an admonishing look. “Why do you say it like that? Like you couldn't believe me capable of such a weakness.”

“It wasn't that. It's just that you do an inordinate amount of flying, so it would seem to be something you'd have adapted to by now.”

“I don't fear flying. I enjoy it, actually.”

“So…” Then he smiled as understanding dawned. “You're nervous.” He said it with something akin to marvel in his tone. As if it were even more improbable than her having a relatively normal issue such as fear of flying.

She tried to take it as a compliment, that he saw her as that indomitable. She would never tell him the truth, which was that despite the nerves of steel sometimes required by someone in her moonlighting profession, she was just like anyone else. Susceptible to doubt and insecurity, still vulnerable as the next person. “Are you so certain of success in this that you can honestly say you're not nervous?”

“I'm…concerned. And I certainly am geared to do whatever it takes to make sure we succeed. But my stomach isn't in knots over our eventual success, no.”

Must be nice, she thought, but didn't give him the satisfaction of saying it out loud. She'd been working privately for MI-8 for three years past now, and had handled a number of cases for them quite successfully, but she still got butterflies when things got intense. Having Finn stare at her like the famished man he was, with her in the role of juicy drumstick, wasn't helping matters any. “If you'll point me to the plane, I'll go settle in before takeoff. Will they have tea or water?”

“No in-flight service on last minute charters.” He drew her a bit closer. “Unless I can talk you into considering dessert.”

“We haven't even had a proper dinner,” she said. She smacked at his hand when he slid one past the small of her back. “And your fixation with dessert is becoming wearisome.”

He laughed. She really was a terrible liar.

“I believe you were the one to first mention it.”

“Well, I was preparing for battle then and feeling my oats a bit.”

“And now? We have a transcontinental flight ahead of us.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Much plotting and strategizing to be done.”

“Hardly the same thing,” she replied coolly, though her body temperature was anything but. She was envisioning all sorts of things that could happen over a long, late night flight across the country. None of them designed to cool her off.

“The hangar is just that way,” he said. “Number nineteen. I'll be back before we take off.”

Given the nature of their banter, the state of his pants for the better part of the past few hours, and his tenacity, she was wary of his seemingly easy acquiescence. “See that you are.”

He raised his brows, but his grin didn't abate a whit. “Why, yes, Your Royal Highness.”

“I'm just saying that there is a lot at stake here, and I won't have the pilot waiting around while you find yourself a burger and chips.”

“The pilot will wait for me.”

She merely gave him a challenging look.

“Stacy has worked with Trinity before. She likes us.”

Felicity scowled. “Only you.”

Finn merely nodded. “I do have that kind of luck.”

She went to slip her arm free of his grasp, very determined to walk away with her chin up and integrity intact. What did she care who he flirted with and what he did when she wasn't looking?

He neatly turned her right back around and flush up against him. “Would it take that adorable pout off your face if I told you Stacy was fifty-two and a grandmother of three?”

“I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about.”

He slid his arm along her back and snuggled her between his legs. “Have I ever mentioned that your queen-of-the-realm tone really turns me on?”

“I'm fairly certain a stiff breeze could do the same,” she said, but the way her body immediately responded to the hard length of him made her retort less than stinging.

He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, which shouldn't have charmed her nearly as much as it did. “Save me a window seat.” Then he was gone, climbing into the limo. She opened her mouth to warn him that she'd given her driver instructions to wait for her, but saved her breath. She spat out only a few very inelegant swear words when her car—with her driver—smoothly pulled away from the curb moments later. “Why?” she muttered. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

She headed off to find Hangar 19, determined not to think about Finn, his luck, or what kind of dessert he might dream up, thirty thousand feet in the air.

F
inn hopped the stairs into the plane two at a time, then ducked inside, nodding to the pilot as he did. “Hey, Steve. Thanks for waiting.”

The older man just smiled and tipped his fingers to his forehead. “Ready when you are.”

Finn grinned. “I'm always ready.”

Steve just chuckled, shook his head, then closed the door to the cockpit. Finn shuffled the bags in his hands, then made his way into the main section of the small private jet.

Felicity was seated in the central area, where there was a large round table surrounded by four cushy leather chairs. There were also seats along either side of the plane, situated next to the windows. He happened to know that in the back, there was a small private meeting area, a fairly nicely appointed bathroom, and a bedroom, which was pretty much all bed.

He smiled at Felicity, who had both her arms and legs crossed, and didn't look particularly happy with him. She glared at the closed cockpit door, then back at Finn. “A grandmother, huh?”

“I didn't say it was Stacy, just that it could have been. As it happens, Steve doesn't play for your team either.”

She tried to maintain her frosty expression, but he saw her fight the smile. “No wonder I couldn't get him to move the plane one hangar over.”

Finn shoved the bags into a bin under the table and extended his hand to her. “We need to buckle in for takeoff; then we can get cozy.”

“Cozy?”

“Here,” he said, motioning to the table. “No reason to stay shackled into those little seats when we can fly in comfort.”

“Yes, further shackling I could do without.”

Finn barked a laugh, and took her offered hand in his. She was such an interesting mix of blue blood and street smart, he never knew quite what to expect from her. He drew her up, but resisted the temptation to pull her directly into his arms. They had a five-hour flight ahead of them. Pacing was everything.

“Window or aisle?” he asked.

“Either is fine with me.”

He led her to a window seat and waited until she got comfortable, but rather than taking the seat next to her, he sat next to the window on the opposite side of the plane. She looked surprised, and perhaps even a little disappointed. He smiled to himself and buckled up.

They were rolling toward the runway when she finally spoke. “So, I take it you know Steve? Lucky coincidence he was here.”

“I fly in and out of here a lot, so I know several of the pilots.”

“You always fly privately? Why not have your own plane?”

“I fly my own helicopter. We have several. In fact, one of them is parked on the roof of a certain hotel in town, as we speak.”

“I suppose that shouldn't surprise me.”

“Meaning?”

Her lips did curve slightly. “You do like your toys.”

He tried very hard not to look at the bag stowed under the table. “Work hard, play harder. After all, what's the point of work if you never get to appreciate play?”

“Some would say their work is their play.”

“Some would. Is that how you view your…occupation?”

She looked at him and parroted an earlier response, slightly modified. “My work for the Foundation is very involved and rewarding, but I don't consider it play.”

“I wasn't referring to that occupation.”

She looked back out the window as they taxied around to prepare for takeoff. She was smiling. “I know.”

Finn was just about done with the enigmatic responses and Mona Lisa smiles. He just couldn't put the two sides of her together. She was understandably proud of one career…and so blatantly unrepentant about the other.

“Why didn't you invest in a private plane?” she asked.

“Too much to maintain. It's easier to just keep a few pilots on call and work things out when needed. I know it comes as a shock, but we still fly commercial a lot of the time.”

“So do I.”

He looked surprised; he couldn't help it. She laughed.

The pilot interrupted them with instructions for takeoff, and they fell silent as the plane accelerated, then lifted into the night sky. Finn loved this part, leaving the pull of the earth and gliding freely into the empty skies. He'd gotten a pilot's license when he was quite young, but it had been only a handful of years since he'd gotten his license for the helicopter. It was still a thrill, taking off in that thing, like he was flying himself, free of restrictions.

He glanced over at Felicity. Her hands were relaxed on the arm rests, and she was peering out of the window. No fear of flying. He wondered what she'd think of taking a ride in his new little black bird. He imagined it, taking off on a clear spring day, showing off a little, earning a few eye rolls from her, but also, hopefully a laugh or two, and an honest smile. He wondered what that would take.

Despite the intimacy they'd shared, he had no idea who she really was. Her background was so intensely privileged, far more so than his State-side version of the same. Her education was impeccable. She was sharp, smart, fearless. Which was both impressive and, he imagined, potentially quite intimidating when she wanted it to be. But that was the part of her he knew, the part the whole world knew, if they cared to. What he wanted to know—was suddenly dying to know—was who she was, and what she'd be like on a regular, everyday level. Then he laughed at himself. Felicity Jane Trent didn't have a regular, everyday level.

Still…he tried to picture her back at his home in Virginia. Dalton Downs had a lavish main house, stables, and enough acreage to satisfy an earl or two, and yet he really couldn't bring her into focus there. Partly because he'd worked very hard to remove the lord-of-the-manor vibe of the place after his father had died and left it to him. His partner, Mac, had moved his significant other, Kate, onto the property over a year ago, along with her school for seriously challenged young children. His other partner, Rafe, who typically involved himself with high-powered supermodel types, had apparently fallen for Kate's new head horse trainer. He couldn't wait to get back and witness that interesting union in action.

But he couldn't see Felicity Jane being in tow with him.

It shouldn't have dispirited him. After all, she'd always been more fantasy than reality. Larger than life. Certainly not part of anything having to do with his normal one. If you could call anything about his life normal, either.

“Quite the scowl you have over there. Something amiss?”

He glanced over at her, and found her staring at him in that intent, open way she sometimes did. He could imagine others found it a tad unnerving, that sort of overt directness. And that she'd intended it to be. For him it was more unsettling than unnerving. Despite the fact that they'd once again found themselves on a little adventure together, where, for a brief span of time, they'd be in each other's orbit, and more than likely each other's bed, only to drift apart once the adventure came to its natural conclusion…this time he wasn't so willing to leave it at that. The problem was, he had no earthly idea how he did want to leave it.

Or if he wanted to leave it at all.

The two intervening years since he'd seen her had vanished the moment he'd laid eyes on her again, and yet, he had no desire to repeat that cycle. Now that she was part of his world again, he found he wanted to keep her there indefinitely.

“No,” he said. “Nothing's amiss.” Frustrating, intriguing, and confusing as all hell…but not amiss.

He thought about the bag he'd stowed in the compartment under the table. He'd been quite happy with himself as he'd assembled his array of goodies, thinking about the various directions the following five hours could go, and how prepared he was going to be for any eventual outcome. Now his mood had shifted. Inexplicably so, really, as nothing had changed between them.

The captain's voice filtered into the cabin, announcing they had reached altitude and could move freely around the cabin.

She was still staring at him, clearly not appeased by his less than enthusiastically delivered response. But what was he going to say? He could hardly reveal his actual thoughts. Hell, he didn't even understand them himself.

“I know we have plenty of time to get down to business,” she said, quite crisply, “but if it's all right with you, I'd like to go over possible scenarios on how we're going to proceed once we land, now, rather than later. I'm thinking it would be a good idea to get some rest before we push onward, and I know I'll rest better if there is a plan in place.” When he didn't immediately respond, she smiled a little and added, “You do have a plan, I presume? Or are you going to depend on me to do everything in this partnership?”

She was teasing, but as he looked at her, all he could think about was the bed in the back, and how little rest he'd planned on either of them getting. And how much he'd counted on their partnership being quite equal. At least for the next five hours. Now…he had no idea what he wanted. “I don't know if you investigated when you boarded, but there is a small bedroom in the back, if you want some rest. I can bunk out here. The seats in the center recline.”

She lifted her eyebrow at that, but didn't bait him any further. He knew he was confusing her.
Welcome to the club
, he wanted to say.

“I was going to link up and connect in with my partners back home,” he said by way of explanation, though they both knew it was hardly that. “I want to see what they can dig up for me—us—while we're in the air. I can do some research on the unit I have with me, but they have access to far better equipment and can retrieve it far more swiftly.”

Now it was her turn not to immediately respond. Instead, she looked merely bemused.

“What?” he finally asked, although he knew damn well what. Given their past history, by now, confined to close quarters with nothing else to do for some time, one or the other of them would have instigated something that required the removal of most of their clothes…and the other would have gone along quite willingly with the suggestion.

“While I would like to think that the gentleman in you listened to my repeated pleas to focus on the issue at hand, and steer our attention away from the rather explosive chemistry we share, our history precludes me from drawing that conclusion.”

“You feel I'm not a gentleman?”

“You once left me chained, naked, to my bed—our bed, actually.”

“I sent a bellman,” he responded.

“My point is that you are a man who goes after what he wants. You can be both courtly and aggressive, depending on the situation, but—”

“You don't think I'd put your desires before my own? I'm wounded. I thought I was rather adept at meeting your…needs.”

“I am merely saying—”

“That I'm a selfish bastard who can't keep his hands off of you, so if I am keeping them off now, something must be terribly wrong. You don't think, perhaps, that, like you, I'm wanting to focus on the case at hand?”

“There is a bed in the back of this plane. Can you look me straight in the eye and tell me you didn't think of, or at least imagine, in great detail most likely, spending a few minutes there during this flight? And not for the purposes of rest.”

“Of course I thought about it.”

“And that bag you brought aboard…?”

“Again, my thoughts might have strayed beyond satisfying my immediate hunger. Would you like to see what I brought?”

“I'm certain you'll show me regardless.”

“Your high regard of me is so challenging. How will I ever maintain such a vaunted image?”

“Everything I'm saying is true, is it not?”

He conceded her point with a nod. It shouldn't bother him, either. In fact, he had no idea why he wasn't pushing this repartee to its natural and all but foregone conclusion.

“But now…you're all business. And so I asked, and I shall ask again, why the sudden shift?”

He had no answer for that. Getting naked with Felicity Jane would be a great way to spend time, especially now as neither one of them had the stone nor could have it in the next half dozen hours, so neither was in danger of being poisoned or shackled, or God knew what else. It was as trustworthy a position as they were ever likely to be in. And yet, he found himself not overly interested in getting naked with her for the sake of getting naked. Oh, he wanted her. Kind of hard to deny that one, given the ongoing rock-hard state of his body. He just didn't want her casually. Which was ridiculous, considering there was no other basis for them to be together.

“You don't seem particularly dismayed, one way or the other,” he said, going on the defensive rather than trying to come up with a suitable answer when he had none. “Perhaps my ego couldn't take the constant threat of rejection.”

“Yes,” she said drolly, “I can see where that's so often an issue with you.”

“You have to admit, you have been rather fickle. Tormenting me one moment, pushing me away the next. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a tease.”