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...”
His glance lazily traveled the length of her body. For the second time that day. She refused to shift uncomfortably, but standing still was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done.
When his piercing gaze finally met her face, he was met with her best impression of corporate coolness. But nothing could hide the way her blood rushed through her body.
“...And see that your butt is kept in one piece until I get you back home to your safe, insulated condo in Los Angeles.”
“Really, Mr. Lawson—”
“Ace. The name’s Ace. We’re going to be spending the next couple of days together. You might as well dispense with the formality.” Calmly he folded his arms across his chest.
“If that’s the way you want to play it...” She allowed her sentence to trail off.
“Honey, I guarantee you, this is anything but a game. The report that crossed your desk last week wasn’t a joke. The island’s politically unsettled, and I don’t mean a comfortable ‘vote ‘em out of office’ mentality. I’m talking about ‘shoot ‘em till they shut up’ philosophy.”
Back home, in her floor-to-ceiling glass-paned office, the crudely typed report seemed more the stuff of a grade-B movie than her life. Her heart beat faster.
Unfolding his arms, he made one hand into a fist. “You and your client are trying to change a way of life.”
“Then why did you agree to pilot me?”
“Money.”
Nicole arched a brow. “Somehow you don’t seem the type to require a lot of money.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“Then why?”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a pushy broad?”
“The last man who did wore his front teeth in his lip.”
Ace nearly cracked a smile. Nearly. “You’re welcome to try.”
“I’d prefer a simple answer.”
“Right. I’m taking you to Cabo de Bello because you want to go and I need the cash.”
She waited. And waited.
“That’s as simple as it gets,” he said.
He took her shoulders between his hands, firmly, but not excessively so. That didn’t stop a frisson of awareness from passing up her spine.
“I intend to take this opportunity to use every means at my disposal to get you to change your mind about representing your client on this. My beef isn’t with you, necessarily, but you’re the conduit. And if I take you out of the action, they’re out, too.”
Her jaw dropped. She closed her mouth with an audible snap. “You sound as if you have a vested interest, Mr. Lawson.”
“Nope.” He released her. A warm Pacific breeze toyed with his hair, subtracting years, if not determination, from his face. “I’ve got friends that don’t want to see Cabo de Bello become another sweatshop just to line the deep coffers of your client’s purse.”
“You’re being melodramatic.”
“Maybe you’re not being realistic,” he countered.
“They’ve invested over four million dollars and two years on this project—”
“Two years is nothing, compared with the way of life you’ll change forever,” he interrupted, hostility making his words deeper, more husky.
A primitive part of her responded with an internal leap to the sexiness in his voice. Yet, right now, he was on the opposite side of an issue, an issue her survival depended on. “Opening the plant on time hardly compares with ruining a way of life,” she said, brows furrowing together.
“Sure it does. Your client...”
She didn’t like the emphasis on the last word.
“...Will be getting clothes made at dirt-cheap prices, then selling them for a huge profit. The standard of living won’t increase much here, but some fat cat in the States will get even fatter.”
“That’s free enterprise,” she insisted.
“That’s robbery. Just because it happens doesn’t make it right. Have you stopped to think about the jobs that might be lost at home?
“Be warned, Ms. Jackson,” he said, the heat of his breath feathering across her cheek. “I mean it when I say I intend to do everything in my power to send you back with a change of heart. You and your client can find another place that’s anxious for your kind of progress.”
Nicole shook her head and several strands of her hair met and mingled with his breath. “That’s not possible.”
More than he knew was at stake. Everything she’d spent years fighting for lay on this deal. If she didn’t salvage the project, she would lose the account. God knew she—and WorldNet—couldn’t afford it. Because of a series of disastrous failures, her company might be swallowed whole by the highest bidder, maybe by the one person she and her father had trusted implicitly.
Bitterly, she thought of Sam Weeder, her father’s partner—her own godfather. Weeder had worked to undermine her company since her father’s death. He’d placed a mole inside WorldNet, jeopardizing accounts. Judging by last quarter’s financial statements, he’d done a heck of a job.
Failure was unacceptable. She intended to approach success with single-minded determination.
“I can be persuasive.” He traced his blunted fingernail down one of her cheekbones.
She winced, not liking the way her treacherous body responded, then pulled back. “I won’t be persuaded. Not even if you pull out all the stops.”
He grinned. Certain. Cocky. Threatening.
“Fifteen minutes,” he said for the second time. “Be ready to fly.” Obviously dismissing their conversation—his veiled threat and hinted promise—he pivoted and strode away, long legs gulping the distance to the outbuilding.
Her shoulders sagged against the plane. She hadn’t counted on her pilot having an explosive personality, hadn’t counted on the fact she might run into opposition even before she stepped foot on the Central American island near Belize.
Not one to wallow in useless thought, she pulled herself together and decided to freshen up. Standing on her tiptoes, Nicole reached behind the seat. She bit out a quick curse when she couldn’t shove Ace’s duffel off her bag.
Knowing she could make do with the few cosmetics in her briefcase, she grabbed it from the floor. Nicole snapped the latches open and took out a picture of the plant.
WorldNet’s client blended the plant with the island’s natural beauty. They’d spent millions of dollars on the state-of-the-art plant. It hadn’t been until they were ready to start hiring that the trouble started.
She shook her head.
Saving the account would save her client. And WorldNet.
Nicole allowed the full-color glossy to flutter back into place. After digging out the cosmetics bag, she reached for the box of motion-sickness pills. She shook out the foil pouch, then sighed when seeing each piece of foil jaggedly torn. She had another box...in her unreachable luggage.
Nicole glanced around for her pilot, but didn’t see him anywhere. And her allotted time was ticking away. For a few seconds she fought against her conscience, which told her not to rifle through his belongings, even though he’d earlier given his permission. Realizing she had no other options if she was to be prepared when he dictated, she closed the briefcase, set it on the floor, then knelt backward on the passenger seat.
She grasped the small zipper tab. The rasp of the zipper sounded unnaturally loud in the summer silence. She groaned when she noticed everything was tightly packed, with no evidence of the first-aid kit. If she wanted the Dramamine, she would have to dig for it.
Inserting her hands down the sides, she discovered nothing but the various textures of fabric—rough and smooth. Trying again, she came across a razor, obviously not used recently, a tube of toothpaste squeezed from the middle and a nearly empty plastic bottle of after-shave. On her third attempt, she grabbed the folded kit. When she pulled it out, a piece of clothing snagged on a torn end of the vinyl.
Nicole tugged on the clothing, suspiciously soft, like satin. She pulled it free, holding it in her hand. “Pinocchio?” she whispered in disbelief. He didn’t seem like the type. She pursed her lips. She couldn’t believe she’d entrusted her life to a man who carried a knife and wore Pinocchio underwear.
Embarrassed by the intimacy of handling the material that wrapped, probably snugly, around Ace’s hips, she gingerly took the nose between her thumb and forefinger and pulled it free from where it had snagged. It was at that second she noticed Pinocchio’s nose was designed to accommodate a certain part of Ace’s anatomy. With plenty of room for growth.
“Oh my God.”
Heat chased up her cheeks. As if they’d singed her fingers, she threw the briefs back into the duffel bag, yanking the zipper shut. The man was too much.
Pulling her professional demeanor around her as a protective barrier, she raided the first-aid kit, leaving it on the seat between them.
She climbed down the plane and hurried to the rest room. By the time she had resculptured her cheekbones with an artful sweep of blush and pulled her hair back into a chignon, she was in control. Unshakable.
Even by Ace and his less-than-civilized tendencies.
He’d kept her off kilter so far, but she could handle it. Except for the missing polish on his veneer—the crude language, unshaven chin and well-worn blue jeans—he was exactly the same as every man she’d ever met.
An unfamiliar nagging voice reminded her of the long silky nose that had hung between her fingers, Pinocchio’s ridiculous eyes wide with delight and mouth smiling devilishly. Of the two men she’d been involved with, one had worn baggy boxer shorts and the other had worn white briefs with standard apples and grapes on the tag. No, Ace wasn’t like any man she’d known.
Nicole squared her shoulders and left the bathroom feeling confident and composed. Ace was signing the bottom of a fuel invoice when she reached the plane.
He handed the attendant the clipboard, then flicked his gaze over her. “I liked your hair the way it was.”
She fingered the secured knot. “I prefer it up.”
“Yeah.” He took mirrored aviator shades from the breast pocket of his ragged denim jacket. “You would.”
She felt a moment of regret when he put on the glasses, blocking out the intensity etched in his gray eyes. Simultaneously, she was glad. He saw too much.
“Ready?”
“Anytime you are,” she answered, shoving aside the unwelcome thoughts of his all-knowing eyes. Nicole opened the passenger door and saw a half-dozen or so airsick bags on her seat. She didn’t know whether he was being courteous or cautious. Cautious, she decided, moving them to the map compartment. Ace wouldn’t have done anything for her comfort, only his.
After a Learjet cleared, Ace taxied into position on the runway, and opened the throttle, giving the engine full power.
She wasn’t sure why, but this takeoff didn’t traumatize her as much as the first one had. Ace nudged the nose into the air, then leveled off, and her stomach only twisted with sporadic pains. She marveled at the sensation and told herself it had nothing to do with the pilot’s obvious skills.
Many hours later, following another brief landing for fuel at a scary-looking airstrip near a small Mexican village, the sun splashed its majestic array of colors across a vivid blue backdrop, then dropped on the western horizon.
She craned her head to look out the window, seeing the world in a new way. Invariably, on commercial flights, she lowered the window shade so she wouldn’t be forced to accept the reality of flirting with clouds while the land beneath her melded into a solid mass of potential crash sites.
Magenta swirled with purples and mauves, and she realized it was the first time she’d seen a sunset in over two years. Her job, first as Daddy’s assistant, now as sole owner, consumed every available hour and even a few that weren’t available. “It’s beautiful up here,” she said, nearly ten minutes later, after the sun had given a final wink, casting sparkling shimmers into the Caribbean.
“There’s no place like the sky,” he agreed over the engine’s roar.
For a moment, the grooves around his eyes relaxed, and Nicole glimpsed the real human being buried beneath layers of hard exterior. Was it possible...?
Instantly the softening disappeared.
The next few hours passed in a blur to her.
“We’ll be landing soon.”
Butterflies leapt to life, bringing her out of her silent plans for the meeting with the governor.
“You might want to take some more Dramamine.”
“I’ve already taken some.”
“You got them out of the bag?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I met Pinocchio.”
“Pinocchio?” he echoed, seemingly confused.
“The underwear in your bag.”
Ace laughed, and the sound was every bit as rich and vibrant as she’d thought. Like Kahlúa and cream splashed over big chunky ice cubes. And every bit as potent.
“They were a gag gift,” he said. “At the bachelor party I went to a couple of days ago.”
“I could hardly care what you dress in, Mr. Lawson.” Still, she couldn’t help but wonder how they would look on him.
“I assure you, Ms. Jackson, I’ve never worn anything like that.”
She resisted the implied invitation to ask what he did wear.
“Not my style.”
Nicole turned away, looking out the window, seeing nothing except the vastness of water, which she assumed was the Caribbean. “I thought you said we’re landing.”
“We are.”
“Where?” she asked.
“Down there.”
“Down where?” she asked again, not seeing anything resembling an island, let alone a runway.
Outrageously, he winked at her. “Trust me.”
Her stomach dropped when Ace began the descent. Trusting him was the last thing she wanted to do. And the one thing she had to stake her life on.
The plane hit a patch of rough air, causing them to lose altitude drastically.
“We’ll be okay.”
She clutched the metal bar under her seat, the words trust me echoing in her mind.
They emerged from the turbulence, less than a heartbeat later.
“That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“Terrifying,” she said.
“That wasn’t terrifying,” he said. “Terrifying is when you’re in the air with a bullet hole in the windshield and a fire in the engine.”
His tone was matter-of-fact, and it lit a responding flame somewhere inside her. He’d experienced the danger of living on the edge but didn’t allow it to bother him.
“Are you ever afraid?”
Ten, maybe fifteen seconds passed and she thought he didn’t intend to answer. What was going on behind that smoky gaze? What was he hiding?
Finally he admitted, “Sometimes. Sometimes I’m afraid.”
He looked at her. He obviously had a human side he didn’t want to show often. For some reason, the fact that he’d afforded her a glimpse of his fallible humanity touched her.
“Why do you put yourself in a position like that in the first place?”
“Because life can be shallow and meaningless.”
He specialized in taking people where no one else would. It had earned him a reputation she’d been scared to trust. Until she’d had no other options. “Putting yourself in danger makes life meaningful?”
“Living makes life meaningful,” he said.
She started to ask another question, to dig a little deeper into the character he wanted shrouded, but he interrupted.
“The runway’s just ahead.”
Nicole looked out the windshield, seeing something that resembled a lump of coal, floating in the middle of the sea. “Cabo de Bello?”
He looked at his console again. “Yep.”
A single light reflected in the distance. She felt like Columbus, discovering the blessed sight of land after months at sea.
Ace maneuvered the plane into a descent. Of all the things that could happen, gravity concerned her most.
“Hang on,” he said. “This runway’s still screwed up from the last tropical storm.”
She knew that, but hearing him say it made it more immediate. Alarming.
As they got closer, it appeared palm tree fronds grabbed at them like demonic fingers. She swallowed a terrified scream. The landing gear snagged in a rut, making them careen wildly. Ace swore. Nicole prayed. The plane rocked and shuddered, and the seat belt sliced across her middle.
“We’ll be okay in half a second,” he shouted.
The acrid stench of smoking rubber burned her nose. But before she knew it, they slid to a gradual stop, several dozen yards away from a threatening stand of tropical trees.
He’d performed an exceptional landing.
“You all right?”
Her muscles felt stiff but, other than that, she was all right. She nodded.
“Sure?”
A man with dark skin, and hair black as the night sky, rushed toward them, flashlight casting shadows all around. His face was alive with excitement. He grabbed the pilot’s door and threw it open. “Ah! Señor Ace. I saw a plane trying to land like a crazy dodo bird...” For emphasis, the man spread his arms wide and turned a circle on the ground. “...I knew it had to be you.” He grinned, sporting a hole where front teeth usually resided.
“Hola, mi amigo,” Ace responded easily, shutting down the engine.
“Ah, Señor Ace, you brought company.” He punched Ace in the arm. “Is about time. Me and my wife, we think it will never happen. Welcome, lady, welcome.”
He reached across Ace, extending a hand. Ace pushed the man’s hand back. Nicole frowned at Ace.
“Perhaps I should make some introductions, first. Ricardo, this is Nicole Jackson. With WorldNet. Nicole, my friend, Ricardo Maldanado.”
Ricardo quickly dropped his hand to his side, as if the threat of her touch offended him. She turned the full force of her scowl on Ace. He’d known this would happen. But why? She wanted answers. Now.
“Later, Nicole,” he promised. “You can have a piece of me later.”
“You bring her here?” Ricardo demanded, waving his arms like the dodo bird he’d spoken of. “Are you loco? This is too much, even for you.”
“What did you want me to do? Kick her out of my plane?”
“That would be better than bringing her here, no?”
“I don’t think the lady likes parachutes.”
“No. No.” The man frantically shook his head, then glanced over his shoulder, his wide-eyed alarm clear. “Is too dangerous, Señor Ace. You must take her away. Pronto.”
A shiver of fear, unlike anything she’d ever felt, started at the base of her spine and spiked its way up, until it shimmered at her nape. “No,” Nicole said. She clutched Ace’s biceps and felt the tension coiled in solid muscle. She’d come too far; her future, and everything she’d always worked for, was on the line. She couldn’t quit. Couldn’t lose. “I must meet with Governor Rodriguez. Please.”
Because it vanished so quickly, she might only have imagined the momentary melting in Ace’s glacier-cold eyes.
“Relax, Ricardo. I’ll take care of the señorita.“
The man shook his head in jerky motions. “No, no. Is too risky.”
“That’s my business, Ricardo. Besides, the lady here knows what she’s getting herself into.”
Under the faded shirt he wore, she felt Ace’s muscles bunch and constrict. “Tell that lazy brother of yours to get his butt over here with the taxi.”
Ricardo clasped his hands together in the motion of prayer and lifted them heavenward. He rolled his eyes. “Madre de Dios.”
“You’ll be meeting Her soon enough if you don’t do as I say, Ricardo. “Comprende?”
“Ah, sí, sí.” He bobbed his head, then hurried away.
With the man’s absence, the cockpit felt even smaller, the air lightning-charged. Frogs croaking and crickets chirping provided the only relief from the eerie silence.
“Satisfied?”
Ace had put himself on the line for her. And she had the uncomfortable feeling his help came with a price.
He turned slightly, his muscle flexing. She realized her hand was still wrapped around his upper arm. With a start, she unfurled her fingers and pretended the queasy feeling deep inside was from the flight and Ricardo’s strange reaction, and not from the powerful effect Ace exacted on her.
“I didn’t lie, did I? You really do know what you’re getting yourself into? You know what you’re up against?”
“You?” she asked, strangely breathlessly.
“Me?” He shook his head. “Hell, honey, I’m the least of your worries.”
His voice contained a grainy undercurrent of urgency that made her uneasy.
“A lot of people don’t want you here, Nicole. That should have been obvious by the meeting you just had with my friend. I can guarantee you my enemies won’t be so gracious.”
“What’s going on here?” Tendrils of apprehension held her in their grips.
“A small revolution, Nicole. Sparked by you and your client.”
She gulped and the blood drained from her face.
“Ricardo’s right. If you had any sense, we’d get the plane refueled and be outta here before anyone knows you ever landed. You can be safe and sound in your bed, probably in your penthouse apartment, before another sun sets.”
Ace shifted. The hilt of his knife reflected prisms of light from the faint runway lamps. She was in a hostile land, entrusting her life to a virtual stranger. Ace hadn’t candy-coated facts. Though the governor extended an invitation, others wouldn’t be so kind.
And the man she’d hired to help her wasn’t on her side. Fear was suddenly very real and very intimidating.
She heard the crank of a car’s engine and loud oaths. After several tries, the engine caught, choked, then rushed on. A moment later, a taxi with a missing headlight and twisted fender screeched to a halt beside the plane.
Ace leaned forward, his shoulder brushing the softness of her breast.
His presence disturbed her, made her undoubtedly aware of being a woman. Made her fear she would never again recoup the control she’d lost to her enigmatic protector.
She sucked in a breath. Deeply.
When he sat back up, she saw something glimmer in his hand. Her heart missed a beat.
In his palm, Ace cradled a large pistol. Dread coiled deep inside.
“It’s your call, Nicole.”
