Breakaway. Nancy Warren
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Название: Breakaway
Автор: Nancy Warren
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781472047007
isbn:
The older woman was obviously upset. Her voice wavered. “Your grandfather and I started that airline back in the ’50s,” she reminded Claire as though she could possibly have forgotten the family history. “We used to fly in supplies for miners, fly in timber cruisers and transport Indian chiefs. We’ve helped with rescue missions. We delivered mail.” She tapped her fingers angrily against the table. “My whole life is here and connected to Polar Air. How can a bank take this airline away?”
“Calm down, Grandma. Nobody’s going to take our airline away from us. I don’t think they can.” She swallowed. “Can they?”
“The trouble is I’ve let things go a little. I know there have been some problems, but—”
“What problems?” Everything seemed fine to Claire. But she was busy with flights, and didn’t have a lot of patience for paperwork and administration. Some of their previous business had dropped off, it was true, but they’d added a lot of new business through tourism.
Claire frowned over the sheets of paper Lynette passed to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She glanced up at her grandmother’s worried face.
“I didn’t want to bother you. You’re busy flying. Now that I don’t fly anymore, I feel that I should at least be able to run the place. I thought business would pick up and we’d be able to pay the mortgages back.”
Lynette turned to gaze out over a pair of old armchairs that sat by the window of her log house. The window faced one of the most spectacular views in Alaska. Probably the entire world. Set on a bluff overlooking the ocean, the house commanded views of crashing waves, of the islands out in the strait, and of the otters, whales, dolphins and seals that called the area home.
And they weren’t the only ones. Lynette had called Spruce Bay home her whole life. Claire realized she’d been doing the same for almost half of hers.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Lynette said once more.
“Well, I’m worried now. What’s going on?”
“After your grandfather died, I left Frank in charge of day-to-day operations. They won’t let me fly anymore and I’m not good in the office.”
“I know.” Lynette had been a bush pilot for forty years. It had nearly killed her when she’d had to give up her license after a mild heart attack. The irony was that the heart trouble hadn’t slowed her grandmother down at all. It was losing her license that had devastated her. Fortunately, she’d found a new calling coaching the women’s hockey team in Spruce Bay. It was something she’d done back when Claire first turned in her figure skates for a pair of speed skates.
Sometimes Claire felt guilty that she hadn’t stepped in to run the airline after her grandfather died, but she loved to fly and she had no interest in running an airline. Like Lynette, she’d believed Frank Carmondy was both capable and honest.
“Oh, honey, I’m not sure. Frank came to me around five years ago and said we needed to get a bigger credit line. You know, we always used to have one. The recession was on and we needed to access some capital. He arranged it all and I signed the papers.”
“Grandma,” she said, making an effort to keep her voice calm, “how much money are we talking? And why the hell is the bank calling the loan?”
2
MAX LOVED TO FLY almost as much as he loved sex. In some ways the two were similar. The freedom, the feeling of utter contentment. The ride was sometimes wild, sometimes smooth and familiar but he always, always ended up with a thrill.
Today was no different. He flew over majestic stands of evergreens, interspersed with logging clear-cuts as he skirted the coast. His flight plan took him over tankers and cruise ships, a pod of hunting orcas. He landed his Cessna at Polar Air’s airfield in Spruce Bay, and coasted until he came to a stop on a serviceable strip.
He turned off the engine, took off his headset. Climbed out of the plane and grabbed his battered briefcase.
He secured his plane and then entered the small, squat building that housed Polar Air.
And walked right into a very interesting situation.
The first thing he noted was the shapeliest backside he had ever seen. The rounded hips belonged to a dark-haired woman with a ponytail hanging down her back who was currently asking a portly middle-aged man in a Polar Air jacket some very pointed questions.
They were so deep in conversation that neither of them had heard his entrance. He was about to cough or announce himself in some way, when she said, “I spent the last couple of hours looking at the financial records on the computer. It seems to me that this company’s financial situation is worse than it should be.” Max bit back his fake cough and listened. Seemed his flight up here was already paying off.
An ugly look came over the face of the guy at the desk. “What right do you have to study the books?”
“My grandmother asked me to.”
“And you’re an accountant now?”
“I’ve got eyes and a brain, Frank. I don’t like what I discovered.”
A deep flush began to mottle his ugly face. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting,” she said in a cool, even tone that was steel all the way through, “that the numbers aren’t adding up.”
“You and your grandmother would be lost without me. I think you’d better watch your tone, young lady.”
“Where’s the money, Frank?”
“I’m not listening to this, Claire. I’ll call my lawyer if you don’t shut up.”
There was a beat of charged silence.
“I think that’s a good idea. You should definitely call a lawyer. You’re fired,” she said.
Max didn’t like the expression in the fat man’s eyes. He didn’t like the way he rose from his chair so he could loom over the woman. “You can’t fire me.”
“Yes. I can. And I just did. I think you’d better leave.”
“You little bitch.” The guy moved an inch closer to her and she didn’t budge. “You can’t make—”
Max decided it was time to make his presence felt. “I think you were asked to leave,” he said pleasantly, walking slowly toward the desk.
Both of the combatants turned to face him. He got his first glimpse of the front of the woman with the great ass. As he’d hoped, her front was as alluring—more so—than her back.
She might only stand as tall as his chin but she packed a lot of authority into her curvy body. He liked the way she filled out her jeans and the flight jacket that featured the Polar Air logo.
She’d fed her ponytail through a Polar Air ball cap and she wore sturdy boots.
No rings, he noted absently. In fact, the only jewelry she wore were small gold hoops in her earlobes. Her hazel eyes were big and СКАЧАТЬ