Summer At Villa Rosa Collection. Kate Hardy

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СКАЧАТЬ can spare you.’

      ‘They’ll probably heave a collective sigh of relief,’ she said. ‘I was flying home tomorrow anyway. Immi’s been nagging me about...’ Her sister had been nagging her about a fitting for her bridesmaid dress but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. ‘If you don’t mind squashing into my little two-seater?’

      ‘Whatever suits you.’

      He held the door for her as she took out her phone and sent a quick text to her sister to let her know she’d be available for the fitting the next day.

      ‘Is it pink?’ he asked as they crossed to the control office to file a flight plan.

      ‘Pink?’

      ‘The dress.’

      ‘You read my text?’

      ‘I didn’t have to. I received an invitation to her wedding and I imagine she wants her sisters as bridesmaids. The rare sight of you in a dress is almost enough to tempt me to accept.’

      She glanced up at him but the teasing smile that had made her teenage heart stand still was now rarer than a sighting of her in a skirt.

      ‘If it’s pink with frills there’s no way I’m going to miss it,’ he added.

      ‘Please... Not even as a joke.’

      ‘I hope her fiancé has done his duty and lined up a best man to make your day memorable.’

      ‘Portia’s the oldest.’ The glamorous one that not only the spare men but those who were firmly attached would be lusting after. ‘She has first dibs on the best man.’ And if he was anything like the groom she was welcome to him. ‘Posy and I will have to make do with the ushers.’

      ‘You’re not impressed with your future brother-in-law?’

      ‘I didn’t say that.’ Had she?

      ‘You pulled a face.’

      She lifted her shoulders a fraction. ‘Marrying the boss’s daughter is such a cliché. As long as Immi’s happy that’s all that matters.’ Feeling a bit guilty that she hadn’t quite taken to her future brother-in-law, she added, ‘Dad seems to like him.’

      ‘I congratulate him. Your father has very high standards.’

      ‘Er...yes...’ Talking about weddings with Cleve was too weird and, relieved to have finally reached the control office, she said, ‘Will you go and fuel up for me while I deal with the paperwork?’

      His brows rose a fraction. ‘I’ve never known you let anyone but you touch her,’ he said. ‘You even service herself yourself.’

      ‘I’m cheap,’ she said, rather than admit that he was the only person she’d allow to touch the aircraft her father had given her on her eighteenth birthday.

      The day she’d got her PPL.

      The day Cleve had kissed her.

      ‘Do not drip any fuel on the fuselage,’ she said, taking the keys to the security lock from her pocket.

      She would have tossed them to him but he reached out, wrapping his long, cold fingers around her hand to keep her from turning away. His eyes locked onto hers and she stopped breathing.

      ‘I’m honoured.’

      ‘Make that suckered,’ she said, just so that he wouldn’t think she was going soft. ‘You’ll be using your card to pay for the fuel.’

      She would have turned away but he held her hand for a moment longer until, with a nod, he took the keys and walked away, leaving her normally warm hand like ice.

      * * *

      ‘Do you want to take the stick?’ she asked, out of courtesy rather than any expectation that Cleve would say yes. He wasn’t a back-seat flyer and had no hang-ups about women pilots—he’d married one after all. The fact was, he hadn’t been flying much since the crash.

      He complained that his time was fully occupied running the business these days, setting up the new office in Cyprus. And, when he was forced to leave his desk, the murmurs reaching her suggested that he was taking the co-pilot’s seat and letting his first officer have the stick.

      That he had lost his nerve.

      He shook his head, climbed aboard and closed his eyes as she taxied out to the runway. His attempt at humour on the subject of her bridesmaid dress had apparently drained him of conversation and any excitement about picking up the new aircraft would be inappropriate.

      Forty silent minutes later she touched down and taxied to her personal parking space on the Marlowe Aviation airfield.

      She didn’t wait for him to thank her. She signed off, climbed down and, before he could dismiss her, crossed to where the chief engineer, no doubt warned by the tower of their arrival, was waiting for them.

      ‘Hello, Jack.’

      ‘Andie...’ He took her hand, kissed her cheek, then looked up as Cleve joined them. ‘Cleve. Good to see you,’ he said, not quite quick enough to hide his shock at Cleve’s pallor. Any other time, any other man, Jack would have made a joke about women pilots, she would have rolled her eyes, and they would have got on with it.

      ‘Jack.’ Cleve’s brief acknowledgement did not encourage small talk.

      ‘Right, well, we’re all ready for you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Andie, you’ll be interested in seeing the updates we’ve incorporated into the latest model of the Mayfly to come off the production line.’

      It was a plea not to leave him alone with Cleve but, with the tension coming off him in waves, she wasn’t going anywhere.

      ‘I can’t wait,’ she said, touching her hand to Cleve’s elbow, a gentle prompt forward, and she felt the shock of that small contact jolt through him. She caught her breath as the responding flood of heat surged back along her arm, momentarily swamping her body.

      She held her breath, somehow kept her smile in place as he pulled away from her.

      ‘The new tail design is largely down to Andie,’ Jack explained to Cleve as they walked towards the hangar. ‘The sooner she gets tired of life at altitude and gets back to the design office, the better.’

      ‘Miranda was born to fly,’ Cleve said before she could answer.

      ‘No doubt, but my time will come.’ Jack grinned confidently. ‘Some lucky man will catch her eye and she won’t want to be up and down all over the place once she starts a family.’

      Desperate to cover the awkward silence that followed Jack’s epic foot-in-the-mouth moment, she crossed to the aircraft, sleek and gleaming white but for the new tail that bore the stylised red, gold and black goldfinch identifying the ever-growing Goldfinch Air Services fleet.

      ‘She’s a beauty, Jack.’

      She turned to Cleve for his reaction but he looked hollow and she thought, not for the СКАЧАТЬ