Page 7

W e arrive at the airport without further incident, return the rental car, and Hunter leads me to a private jet waiting on the tarmac.

“Go on inside and get situated,” she tells me. “I already did my pre-flight check, but I want to do another walk around.”

“Sure thing. I’m ready to get out of this tux like yesterday.

” Hefting my duffel bag over my shoulder, I walk up the roll away stairs and step into the plane.

It’s roomy and the passenger seats look comfortable.

I should be ready to collapse into one of them, sleep the whole way home, but I’m still wired from our chase through the city.

I wander down the aisle, checking things out, and pass the small bathroom.

Instead of trying to change in there and being all cramped, I move to the rear of the plane and find a back area with a table and some chairs.

There’s an accordion-style door and I pull it partway closed and shrug out of my suit jacket.

Unzipping my bag, I rummage through it for my jeans, navy blue Henley and a fresh pair of socks. I’d love a shower, and noticed one in the compact bathroom, but I’ll wait until I’m back at my house where there’s no turbulence to potentially bounce me around.

Pulling my bowtie off and tossing it, I unbutton my white shirt and slip it off, drop my pants and grab my jeans. As I’m pulling them up, I hear Hunter enter the plane and close the flight door.

“Knox?” she calls out.

I fold the door back. “Yeah?”

She abruptly stops walking, brown eyes dropping. Her gaze moves down my bare chest like a physical touch, and I try not to react. For a lovely moment, she stares at my crotch.

Well, shit. She interrupted me before I had a chance to zip up.

Her attention jumps back up to my face and she clears her throat. “I, um, just wanted to tell you we’re ready to take off. So, whenever you’re seated and buckled up, we can go.”

“Great.” I quickly zip and button my jeans then grab my shirt. There’s no missing the way her pretty brown-sugared eyes skate over my chest again, and I can’t help but smirk.

See something you like, Hunter?

Even though I want to ask, I keep my mouth shut. I get the feeling she’s skittish. A strong, fierce badass when it comes to fighting the enemy, sure, but maybe not quite ready for a full-frontal assault of flirting from yours truly.

By nature, I’m an outrageous flirt, so I hope she can handle it.

Otherwise, it’s gonna be a long flight. Because there’s no way I’ll be able to tone it down around her.

She’s a gorgeous woman who caught my interest. Easy, sexy, playful banter is a part of who I am, and I enjoy engaging women and coating them in my honey-dipped words.

I’ve always loved and appreciated women.

How could I not? I grew up with five sisters and my mom deserves a Mother of the Year award for putting up with all of us.

Eighteen years in a home surrounded by estrogen taught me quite a lot.

Every time some jerk broke one of their hearts, I heard all about it.

As a result, I’ve learned what women want and expect from a man.

Being privy to their secret conversations made me understand quite a few things.

Yes, women are complicated creatures, but at the heart of it all, they just want to be loved and respected.

And they enjoy attention directed solely at them because it makes them feel special.

At the end of the day, isn’t that what all of us really want? Well, in addition to some mind-blowing sex.

I watch Hunter scurry back up the aisle and disappear into the cockpit. If I’m not mistaken, I’d say Ms. Top Gun is a bit flustered.

Unable to suppress a grin, I saunter over to the seat closest to the cockpit, sit and buckle up.

Stretching my legs out, I watch Hunter check various instruments and communicate through a headset to the tower.

Her hands move adeptly over the flight panel, flicking switches, reporting readings.

I have no damn idea what she’s doing, but I find myself sitting up straighter, absolutely fascinated.

The image of those delicate fingers wrapping around my hard cock and stroking me to a volcanic eruption nearly fries my brain. She glances over her shoulder and I toss her a slow, sexy grin, my mind so far in the gutter, it’s probably written all over my face.

Without a word, Hunter reaches over and shuts the door.

I try not to take it personally. She has a job to do, and maybe she thinks I’m a distraction. Yeah, my ego will go with that.

If I’m being honest, Hunter McGrath has my full and undivided attention.

It’s been a long time since any woman has been able to snag my interest so completely.

Why is that? Sure, she’s gorgeous. Long, reddish-brown hair I’d love to wrap around my fist, but currently pulled back in a ponytail, and big, brown eyes the color of molasses.

Eyes I’d like to stare into as I bring her to a glorious, earth-shattering climax.

But it’s more than her looks making me sit up and take notice.

She doesn’t succumb to my charm like every other female. Actually, a couple of different times, I swear, she seemed annoyed with me. That feisty side of hers is damn enticing, and I know she’s smart as hell.

Beautiful and smart. That’s a combination I’d love to tangle with.

Crossing my ankle over my opposite knee, I pull out my pencil and puzzle book.

Numbers soothe me—they always have—and I enjoy trying to solve complex mathematical problems. Codes and ciphers can be fun, too, but mostly I stick to equations.

My mind absorbs numbers like a sponge and it’s easy for me to picture them.

My crew calls me the Human Calculator because I usually know the answer to a math problem before they can finish punching it into their phone’s calculator.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but a quick glance out the window confirms we’re soaring above the clouds. I undo my seatbelt, stand up and stretch. Then I curl my puzzle book, tuck it into my pocket and grab the pink box of baked goods. Time to check in with the pilot.

Walking up to the cockpit door, I lift my hand and rap my knuckles against it. The door opens and Hunter raises an inquisitive brow.

“Mind if I come up here with you?” I grip the edge of the door frame, looking through the windshield at the endless sky ahead. “I’ve got cookies.”

I lift the box and smirk.

“I don’t normally allow passengers in here while I’m flying,” she states.

“But you’re willing to make an exception to the rule?” My mouth edges up into a full-blown smile and I raise my brows hopefully.

“Something tells me you’re a very persistent man.”

“When I want something, yeah, I am.”

She rolls her eyes and tilts her head to the co-pilot’s seat.

“Alright,” I murmur, on the verge of pumping my fist like an excited kid as I step inside. Once I’m sitting, she motions to the seatbelt harness behind me.

“Put your harness on,” she orders in a no-nonsense voice.

“You got it.” I reach back and pull the straps over my shoulders, buckling myself in. Opening the box of sugary goodies, I offer her some. She hesitates, then reaches in and takes a cookie. I follow suit, popping a polvorosa into my mouth. “Mmm. Delicious.”

As I chew slowly, savoring the way the dessert melts in my mouth, I study the beauty beside me.

“What?” she murmurs, sounding uncomfortable.

“When you answered your phone earlier, you said Pyro. How come? Is that a codename or something?”

She looks over at me and my gut tightens as the sunlight hits her brown eyes, making them glow.

Striking. They match her hair, taking on this amazing russet-colored hue.

Her aviators are tucked in the neckline of her tank top beneath her bomber jacket, and I’m so glad.

I’ve never seen such pretty eyes before and, for a moment, I feel…

I don’t know. Strangely off-balance.

I frown and drag my focus away from her and back out the windshield.

“It’s the nickname I wound up with in the Navy after, ah, an unfortunate incident in Kabul.”

Again, she captures my attention, and this time she’s grinning—finally—so I ease back into my seat, getting comfortable, ready to hear what I’m thinking is an amusing tale. “Do tell.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” she insists, and I laugh.

“Whenever anyone starts a story with ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ I have a funny feeling it might’ve been.”

She waves a hand through the air and shakes her head. “No one told me the containers held gasoline. I thought they were filled with water.”

Her smile and tone are infectious, and I find myself grinning back, leaning closer. “Okay, so what happened?”

She grimaces. “I may have accidentally set up some targets on top of the barrels and, well, my aim isn’t always perfect.”

I burst out laughing.

“One shot went too low and…” She makes an explosion gesture with her hands, “I blew up the landing strip. I was forever known as Pyro after that.”

“Classic. I love it.”

“I could’ve ended up with a way worse nickname, like some people I served with. How about you? Is Knox short for something?”

I shake my head. “Nope. My full name is Knox Remington Beckett, and what you see is what you get.”

I send her a smirk, and she lets out an unladylike snort.

“I’m sure,” she says, voice laced in sarcasm.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just seem like a man who would have a lot of secrets.”

“No way. I’m an open book. Ask me anything.” When she hesitates, I lock eyes with her. “Go ahead, Pyro. I dare you.”