Kiss Me Katie! & Hug Me Holly! (9 page)

At the door, she realized the night had grown cold, icy cold, which she hadn't noticed since she'd been steaming up the air with that kiss.

Kisses,
she corrected. Definitely plural kisses.

Bryan was talking to someone. She stepped closer, then was very sorry. Standing in front of her were two of their staff members, both part-time mechanics. With them was Holly, who grinned when Katie showed herself.

“Well, well,” she said, her grin widening. “I suppose you were just…what, maybe catching up on some work?”

“Um…” Katie's brain was still fogged with passion. “Yes. Work.”

She heard Bryan groan, saw him move toward her, blocking her from view, but she didn't understand why until she heard Holly say, “
Work.
Yes, that explains why you're buttoned wrong.”

Katie looked down at herself.

She'd mismatched not one, not two, but
three
buttons. “Oh, boy,” she whispered.

Holly just laughed. “Yeah. Oh, boy.”

O
NE DAY LATER
Katie found herself craning her neck for a better view of Bryan.

He flew by.

Then again.

And again.

In the long, torturous moments between those appearances, Katie knew exactly what he was doing, even if she couldn't see him.

Stunts.

Dangerous ones.

Upside down, sideways, a roll, he would do them all. And even though she told herself he was free to do as he wanted, that she had no hold on him, and he no hold on her, she still felt like grabbing him right out of the sky and locking him in a safe dungeon somewhere.

She realized she stood at her office window with her nose pressed up against the glass. With effort, she forced herself to relax, even as he finished filming.

She'd known, hadn't she, what he did for the thrill as well as the extra money? Somehow she'd forgotten that basic fact. That it was slammed home now when she stood quivering on the ground while he so foolishly risked his life, didn't improve her temper.

He was so totally wrong for her.

All men had a long list of faults, but Bryan had more than his share. First, he gave her hot looks that fried her brain. Second, he gave her hot kisses that fried her brain. And third,
everything
he did or said fried her brain.

Oh, and he was passionate about everything, including her.

Wait. Those weren't exactly faults, were they?

No problem, she could come up with others. He was startlingly tender and gentle, and he made her laugh at things, at work, at herself.

At life.

Darn. Those weren't faults, either.

How had this happened? He brought out the worst in her. He did! She'd sent an entire truckload of toilet paper to the maintenance hangar, for God's sake.

It had to stop.

She just didn't know how. So she went back to what had become her own private spectator sport.

She plastered her face to her window and watched him fly.

 

A
S WAS HIS PREFERENCE
, Bryan tied down his own plane, only this time his mind was not on the job at hand.

He'd nearly lost it up there.

“Ace! That was fab, man, absolutely—”

Bryan lifted a hand to Ritchie to ward him off. He didn't want to talk about his latest stunt, he didn't want to talk at all.

He passed right by the film crew, who were still congratulating themselves on a job well-done, as if
they'd
risked their lives for a stupid beer commercial.

The fact was, Bryan was disgusted with himself. Hell, he was disgusted with the whole world at the moment, and needed to be alone to think.

One wrong move up there and he could have died. It was a thought that had rarely occurred to him before, even on hundreds of previous, more dangerous flights, and yet he couldn't stop thinking about it now as his long stride churned up the tarmac. He entered the lobby and made a beeline for his office.

It wasn't as though his plane had malfunctioned or failed him. No, it had been his own hands, when
he'd held the spin for a fraction of a second too long.

He'd had control at all times, but still, for the first time in his life, he'd imagined the
could have,
the
might have,
the
almost.

Then imagined himself dead.

And it wasn't his own pain he thought of, but his family's. He was the baby, the joy of his parents' hearts. How would they take it?

And Katie. God, Katie.

It would kill her.

All for a stupid beer commercial.

He passed the women at the front desk, each of whom grinned and sent him the thumb's-up sign.

He passed several clients milling around in the lobby, who wanted to comment on his expert flying.

He passed Holly in the hallway, who managed to annoy him with one easy smile. “Do you make love the way you fly?” she wondered, her eyes laughing. “Because if you do…wow.”

Bryan moved faster, needing solitude, needing, for some inexplicable reason, to touch base with his family and hear their voices.

Needing…

He moved by Katie's door, which was ajar. She
stood with her slim, straight back to him, staring out the window at the tarmac.

At his parked plane.

He stopped so fast he nearly tripped.

She'd watched.

“Katie.” He'd whispered it before he could stop himself and though she stiffened, she didn't move. “I'm sorry…” Sorry for what exactly? “That you had to see that. That—”

She didn't turn to him. “I've been watching you fly stunts for months, why would you apologize now?”

He wished he could see her face, wished she was in his arms, straining against him as she had last night…he wished for so much he didn't know where to start.

“I'm really busy,” she said pointedly, still not looking at him.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Then you'll be sure to shut the door on your way out.”

Well. That couldn't be any more clear, could it? No matter that he didn't want to walk away, instead wanted to make her relax, even smile.

He was a man of action though, not of subtlety, and she wasn't ready for action.

Or that's what he told himself as he backed out of her office and shut the door.

Two minutes later he was in his own office with his oldest sister on the telephone, and just the sound of Mandy's voice made him smile.

“What have you done now?” she asked. “You only call me when you're feeling guilty about something.”

“I do not.”

“Uh-huh. When did you call me last, Bry?”

“Well…”

“Let me refresh your memory. You'd just forgotten Mom's birthday and you wanted
me
to call her up and tell her you'd been held hostage on some remote island.”

“Hey, she would have believed it coming from you!”

“And the time before that,” she continued, undeterred, warmth and love and affection clear in her voice, “you called because you'd just beat up Cindy's boyfriend and you didn't know how to tell her.”

“I didn't beat him up. Exactly.”

“I suppose he got that black eye by walking into a door.”

Actually, he had. His sister's no-good boyfriend had cheated on her with a close friend. When
Bryan had run into him in town, the boyfriend had taken one look at Bryan's furious face and whirled to run, smacking himself on a door so that Bryan didn't have to.

“And don't forget when you crashed Dad's prized '69 GTO into the mailbox because you were busy yelling at me for wearing too much makeup.”

Bryan laughed. “I was sixteen.”

“And let's not forget our famous trip down the driveway—our steep driveway—on what you so lovingly called a rocketship, but was really just a cardboard box?”

“Hey, my arm healed and you can see almost perfectly out of that right eye!”

She laughed. “And who, in spite of her pain, covered for you?”

At her soft voice, he smiled. “You. Always you.” Suddenly he felt better. Warmed somehow. “Thanks, sis.”

“For what? Don't you hang up yet, you haven't told me what's—”

“For loving me,” he interrupted, because it was the only way to cut her off. She'd talk forever if he let her. “I love you, too.”

“Bry! Don't you dare hang up on me—”

Gently, he set the phone down, and when he looked up and saw Katie standing in his doorway,
her hands clasped tightly together, nervousness so clear on her lovely face as she offered him a hesitant smile, his heart stuttered.

“You're busy,” she said. “I'll just—”

“Stay. Please?” he added, walking toward her.

“You love your family.”

“Always.”

“They love you back,” she said, retreating as he came toward her.

“Mostly,” he said with a smile as he cornered her.

“Even when you do crazy stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” Their bodies brushed. She was breathless, and he was getting there. “That's how family stuff works.”

“I was rude before,” she said quickly, lifting her hands to his chest when he reached for her. “I wanted to apologize…”

“Katie—”

“I never meant to kick you out like that, but I was watching you fly and—”

“Katie—”

“And it reminded me of—”

“I think about you all the time,” he said, dipping his head to slide his cheek over her hair. “Even when I'm flying. You should know that.”

“My father—” She stopped abruptly, finally al
lowing his words to sink in. “What?” she whispered. “What did you just say?”

He stared at her, shocked at himself. “I think about you too much. Tell me about your father.”

“No, wait.” Katie had put a hand to her heart, absently rubbing there as if she ached. “That thinking about me thing. Why can't you just
stop
thinking about me?”

“I've tried.”

“You're not trying hard enough.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes. No.
I don't know!
” Her hands fisted in his shirt, probably to push him away, but she held on. “You're sidetracking me.” She stared down at her fingers clutching him, and as if she just realized what she was doing, she loosened them and smoothed over the wrinkles she'd caused. “I came in here to apologize and you're going to make me forget that, or even why.”

“Sorry.” He had no idea what for, but if she wanted to hug him and apologize, who was he to say no? “Go ahead, beg for my forgiveness.”

“For what?” she asked, annoyed.

“I don't know exactly, but I'm certainly going to let you do it.”

“Bryan…darn it! You ruffle me.”

“You ruffle me, too. Do it some more.”

“This is crazy. I can't…do this. Not with you.”

“Because of what I do?”

“Because of
who
you are. You remind me of—”

“Your father?” he asked, gently nudging her. “Come on, Katie, open up. Tell me. He hurt you, I know he did, and you never talk about it, it's not healthy. It'll make you explode, or—”

“Or cause me to be unnecessarily rude to you?” She let out a smile. “Too late.”

“You haven't been rude, just…a bit prickly.”

She laughed at that, then set her head on his chest. “I'm so sorry, Bryan, for so many things.”

He didn't need another reason to draw her close, to tuck her body against his and hug her tight. That she let him was a bigger thrill than any flight he'd ever taken. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

Bless his sweet and totally untrusting Katie. “If I said to the end of the earth, would you follow me?”

“I'd have to be pretty far gone to do that.”

“So, will you?”

She hesitated, then let out a rueful laugh. “Apparently, yes.”

Smiling, he led her to hangar three. When he walked up to one of his Cessnas, she held her
breath. And when he took her inside, she let the breath out shakily. He strapped her into the copilot seat, sat next to her, put on his sunglasses, and she went more than a little pale.

“Tell me we're just checking out the new leather seats,” she said.

“Yep. From twelve thousand feet.”

“Oh, my God.” She bit her lower lip. She looked as though she tried really hard to contain a sudden rush of excitement, but he knew her now. Yes, she was afraid, but she was also ready to do this.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Oh, sure. I'm great. Really. Couldn't be better.” She looked nervously out the window.

“No stunts,” he promised, thinking she shouldn't look so appealing, that it shouldn't be so thrilling to be doing this, with her. “Nothing but straight flying, wherever we feel like going.”

“Just like that.”

“Just like that. Spontaneity, sweetheart. It doesn't have to be dangerous.”

Her gaze slid to his mouth and he nearly groaned. “Do that again,” he murmured. “And I'll be happy to delay this little fun until I kiss us brainless.”

“This is crazy.”

“No. This is fun. Simple, easy, good fun. You've not let yourself have enough of it.” He got them off the ground gently, took them into the right altitude gently, did everything as gently as he could, and nearly laughed out loud in triumph at the sheer pleasure on her face. “Breathe,” he instructed with a smile. “Or you'll pass out.”

“Oh!” She laughed a little nervously and drew in her first deep breath. “Yeah, that helps.” After a moment she said quietly, “You're much more complicated than I thought.”

“Because I can remember to breathe without instructions?”

“No, because…” She turned and looked out the window again, exhilaration and a sort of terrified joy shimmering from her every movement. “It's incredible up here, amazing. I had—” she turned back to him, her eyes full of so many things, incredible things, she took his breath “—I had no idea,” she whispered. “You know, how it would be.”

“It's good, isn't it?” he whispered back. “Being so high, soaring through the clouds, riding on the wings of air so crisp you can feel it humming through your veins with every breath.”

“Yes. Exactly, yes.” She swallowed hard and sent him a shaky smile. “I guess it's not such of
a stretch to admit I was afraid to give in to this, because then I would have to admit I can understand some of my father's compulsion to do this. He was a stunt pilot.”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I'm sorry. But flying doesn't just have to be about wild stunts.”

“No, I can see that now.” She tilted her head and studied him. “I think maybe I can see you more clearly now, too.”

At that, their gazes met and held, and Bryan sent her a slow smile that she returned. It warmed him from the inside out.