Page 6

“Why not?” she said, frowning.

“He’s too young.”

Stevie shrugged. “He’s gotta be late twenties at least, which is plenty old enough.”

Blythe’s eyes narrowed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Stevie grinned, a flash of amusement in her pale blue eyes. “Not at all. What makes you say that?”

Blythe bit back her growl, and Stevie’s expression dropped serious. “Okay, okay, out with it. What’s the real problem?”

The room was too small to pace in, but Blythe gave it a good go. Three steps one way and then back. “He’s too bloody young, that’s all.”

Stevie leaned forward, not at all bothered by Blythe’s sharp tone. “He’s a charter pilot. He’s got to have passed all the exams and logged the hours, or he wouldn’t have his license.”

She whipped around and pinned Stevie with a sharp look. “For this route? With the change we’re planning?”

Stevie’s fingers stopped tapping on the console. “The buttons on his coveralls say he’s flown deep-space charters before.”

“Really?” Blythe arched her eyebrow. Those pins could be bought by anybody at any dock station shop. Why anybody would want to pass themselves off as a charter pilot, she didn’t know, but still...

“He’ll produce his records when his luggage gets here.”

She crossed her arms. “And until then, we’re trusting a bloke we met ten minutes ago because he’s got a nice smile and can fill out a jumpsuit?”

“Well, you have to admit he fills it out rather nicely,” Stevie muttered.

Blythe stared at her, and Stevie lifted both hands. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“B, we don’t have another pilot.” Stevie’s tone sharpened. “It took me long enough to fill the job the first time around. And I’m going to check him out. I’m not letting some random pretty boy take us and the ship into deep space.”

Pretty boy. Exactly.” Blythe’s jaw clenched.

“He’s huge for a pilot,” she said instead. “Have you noticed that?”

“Hard to miss, love.”

Stevie studied her for a long moment. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

Blythe opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Dangerous was a strong word. She’d worked around dangerous men. Shouting and throwing tools because they couldn’t manage their own tempers. Randall James hadn’t done any of that. He’d smiled. Then he’d held out his hand and let her insult him without so much as a twitch.

She wasn’t sure why that bothered her more.

“I don’t know,” she said carefully, shaking her head. Some days she wasn’t sure if it was paranoia or whether she was justified in taking so many precautions. But... given their situation, they couldn’t afford to take risks.

Her expression tightened, and Blythe knew she’d scored a direct hit. The knot in her gut just pulled a little tighter.

Stevie raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll put the job back up on the boards and see if we can get another pilot. An older one, since you’re so sweet on this one.”

Blythe growled. “I am not bloody sweet on him.”

The words came out sharper than intended. She didn’t care that Randall James had amazing blue eyes and a body built like somebody had taken a standard human male and added extra parts for the hell of it.

She cared that he was a stranger.