Hurricane Hannah. Sue Civil-Brown

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СКАЧАТЬ shrugged. “She can sleep on her plane.” He jerked his thumb toward it. “It looks posh enough for a sultan.”

      “Except a real sultan would be buying a new one.”

      “Quibble, quibble, quibble. You need to get laid, man. Then maybe you wouldn’t have all that energy to waste on stupidity.”

      With that, Craig stalked out the side door, a man-sized door, that hadn’t been locked up yet. Buck stood alone in his hangar with two large planes and a couple of small ones that belonged to island residents, and wondered why he put up with Craig.

      Of course, Craig was a natural-born mechanic. That helped. In front of him, the computer still hummed, a bar showing that the download had progressed eleven percent. Beside it, the big printer was busy drawing schematics. How complicated could it be?

      Complicated enough. A plane, any plane, was a complex beast, and the newer they were, the more that complexity had been magnified.

      So he had two choices. One of them involved going back to his office and facing the redheaded Valkyrie. The other meant sleeping out here on a battered recliner in the small parts office.

      He decided the Valkyrie presented the lesser of two evils. He’d shoo her off to sleep on her plane, then peace would prevail, at least until morning.

      He opened the door to the outside, rather than the one farther to the rear that joined with his living quarters behind the front office. Whenever he could, he preferred to walk outdoors.

      But this time he froze on the threshold. Red sunsets weren’t unusual in the tropics, but this one blazed like fire, and it raged in the east, rather than the west, high in the sky because of the clouds of the approaching storm.

      Magnificent. He soaked it up, filling his heart, mind and soul with the beauty. That was why he’d moved to this godforsaken island with its loony inhabitants and crazy casino. Because here he could live halfway up the side of a volcanic cone and be left pretty much alone while still running an adequate business.

      Stepping out, he worked the mechanism that safely reinforced the door from the inside, then walked around to the front of the hangar to look west.

      The sun was riding the rim of the Caribbean like an angry red eye. The water, usually a soothing Caribbean blue-green, was dappled in red and purple, and beginning to look choppy.

      There was nothing in the world, he thought, like the sunset before a tropical storm.

      Then, without warning, a different red filled his vision. It was silky, redder than red in the evening light, a fluffy cloud around a perfect face with challenging green eyes.

      “Did you find out what was wrong?”

      He might have sighed, except he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Instead he clamped down on his cigar. “Nope.”

      “Why not? I thought you said you’d find out what was wrong?”

      Now he bit down hard. “Actually,” he said between his teeth, “I’m printing out the fuel line schematics right now. At the rate it’s going, it’ll probably take all night. You can thank the manufacturer for that.”

      Her eyes flashed. In that instant, they looked like lightning reflected off the stormy gray-green shallows of the Caribbean Sea. But then, as if something flicked a switch in her, the flare quieted.

      She nodded acknowledgement to him. “Thanks.”

      To his surprise, it didn’t look as if she had to force the word out. Temperamental but in control. Despite himself, he was piqued.

      At that moment, Craig roared by on his way down to his home in town. His Jeep kicked up a little loose gravel as he went by, waving at them.

      Hannah Lamont waved back, then returned her attention to Buck. “I’ll sleep on the plane then.”

      “Sure. No problem.” He pointed to the door. “Bar it when you get inside. No telling when that storm is going to hit.”

      She nodded, but this time a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. “See you in the morning, then.”

      She started to brush past him, but then he had to deal with the fact that not only was he being a jerk, he was being a rude jerk. There were some courtesies he couldn’t ignore even in an attempt to avoid Delilah. “You got anything to eat on that plane?”

      “I was supposed to be in Aruba shortly.”

      Mentally kicking his own butt, he said, “Come on back to the office. If I have to make dinner for myself, I might as well cook for two.”

      “You cook?”

      He wasn’t sure if that was an intentional insult or just genuine surprise. So he opted for surprise. “Yes.” He rolled the cigar a little before adding, “Not all men are helpless without women.”

      Her eyebrows arched. “I didn’t mean that. I don’t cook.”

      No! He didn’t want to like her. No way. Instead of responding, he stalked past her toward the office and soothed himself with the reminder that she would vanish from his island the very instant he repaired her plane.

      There was security and safety in that. A promise of the uncomplicated future he really wanted.

      CHAPTER THREE

      HANNAH WAVERED between wanting to strangle Buck Shanahan, and wanting to like him. He was as prickly as a pear cactus and seemed to have taken her in instant dislike. Other than ruining his poker hand (and she still did not believe that so many people could be insane enough to determine the fate of their island with a poker game) during her landing, she couldn’t imagine why. Well, she had been a little…upset when she deplaned, but any person with a half-ounce of common sense would understand what she’d just been through. Adrenaline tended to make you that way.

      Still, he fed her. He didn’t invite her into the inner sanctum behind his office, nor did she especially want to go there, but when he emerged a half hour later he offered her cold potato salad, cold fried chicken and a healthy serving of steamed broccoli. All of it was savory. She gave him marks as a cook, if not as a mechanic or human being.

      “That was wonderful,” she said when she’d sucked the last bit of meat off the bone. If it hadn’t been rude, she’d have licked the plate, too.

      “Thanks.” He sounded gruff. Then he took their plates into the back, leaving her alone to look out at what was now getting to be a very dark night. She could see a portion of the earth’s shadow on the highest clouds, an arc of darkness moving toward zenith now, the red winking out behind it.

      She supposed she ought to go out to the plane before it got any darker, but she felt strangely reluctant to move. So instead, she helped herself to another cup of coffee, and settled back in the chair.

      She expected Buck to remain in his hermitage, but to her surprise he returned and sat on the far side of the counter from her. She could just see his head above the countertop.

      She decided to try being sociable. “How long have you had this airport?”

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