Something flashed in her eyes. She raised her chin.Ah, there it is—that competitive spirit.
She was considering it; he could tell. His heart began to race at the thought of her joining LarsAir and moving to Las Vegas.
“Would I have time to get my instrument rating in four weeks?”
“Absolutely. In an accelerated learning program.”
She seemed to ponder this.
He waited with bated breath.
“I’m going to hate the taste of crow,” she finally muttered.
“Crow?”
“Yeah. Every time I take a lesson. Adam won’t say anything, but I’ll feel theI told you so.”
“Who says you have to get him involved?”
“I’ll have to ask him to recommend a flight instructor.”
Nick raised a hand. “Flight instructor here.”
Her eyes grew very wide, and her lips parted in a way that made him want to seize the back of her head and kiss her.
Slowly, Nick leaned in, watching her pupils dilate as he drew closer, closer, until his lips grazed the shell of her ear.
He paused briefly, then exhaled, sensing her shudder before he murmured, “And I can teach you oh, so many things that others can’t.”
CHAPTER 12
Jannie
“One, two, how do you hear me?” Nick adjusted his headset.
Jannie brought the mic closer to her mouth. “Loud and clear.”
The cloudless sky was a bright blue, the wind was steady and light, and she was looking through the windshield of a little Piper Archer. With Nick sitting so close, all she had to do was shift slightly, and she would brush against him.
She was really doing this. That, plus his presence so close to her, made what fluttered in her stomach impossible to ignore. These weren’t butterflies; they were freaking luna moths.
“OK, then.” Nick strapped himself in and nodded. “Your airplane.”
“My airplane.” Jannie clicked her own seat belt.
The engine had recently been running, so it was a hot start.
Understatement. She slanted a glance at Nick, who sat there, looking … well, hot. And serious. No amusement, no smirk. If anything, she detected excitement in his gaze and demeanor. That settled her stomach a little.
She paused to think, remembering what she knew.
“Throttle, one quarter inch open. Battery master switch on. Anti-collision lights on.” She checked each item as she read it, resisting the urge to look to Nick for confirmation. “Electric fuel pump, on. Mixture, full rich. Propeller area”—she looked outside, carefully surveying the surroundings—“clear. Starter, engage.” She turned the key, and the engine roared to life, propeller spinning.
Just hearing the motor and feeling it run made the moths in herstomach settle, replaced by pure excitement.
She glanced at the oil gauge. “Oil pressure, check.”
OK, here goes.
