Lost in Her (7 page)

Although she had only been intimate with one man—her rat-fink ex-boyfriend—in high school, she had kissed a lot of boys. Most had bumbled their way through the experience, a learning process for them as much as her. One though, Levi Greenberg, had definitely known what he was doing, or so she had thought at the time. She mentally struck him off her one-person list of all-time great kissers and replaced him with Ryan’s name.

“Ahhh,” she said, her mind going blank when he nibbled his way to her earlobe and sucked it into his mouth.

His chuckle vibrated against her skin. “Was that a good ahhh, cherub?”

Was he kidding? “Mmm.” Sheesh, not only had he stolen all the thoughts in her head but all her words right along with them.

Another chuckle as his warm breath tickled the hairs along her neck. From her ear, he made his way to the vee of her blouse, then his tongue did a long lick down to the first button. She fisted her
hands to keep from ripping her shirt apart to give him better access.

“You taste so good.” He swiped his tongue over her skin once more.

“Fresh,” she said, then gave an inward groan.
Real sophisticated there,
Charlie.

He lifted his head and grinned down at her. “That, too.”

“No, the lotion, it’s some kind of sunshiny-fresh beachy stuff. Or maybe it’s beachy-fresh sunshine. I can’t think too good right now.” If she stopped talking, maybe he would go back to what he had been doing. Actually, she should stop talking altogether, because nothing but nonsense was coming out of her mouth.

His grin morphed into laughter, and he flopped back onto the sand. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? Now he was laughing at her. Mr. Hot Guy probably wished he’d let her walk out of Dockside and into the night where he’d never have to see her again.

He reached over, picked up her hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed the top of her palm, near her wrist. “I like you, Charlene Morgan. A lot. Can I see you again?”

Oh, not what she’d expected to hear, and her heart did a somersault while screaming,
“Yes!”
She rolled onto her side and the big hand he had wrapped around hers caught her gaze where their hands rested against his chest. She could feel his strong heartbeat, the
thump, thump
of it, under her palm.

“I’d like that,” she said, lifting her eyes to his. Was he done with kissing her?

A smile curved his lips as he tugged on her hand. “Come here, cherub.”

“And do what?”

“Whatever you want.”

That was an invitation to sin if there ever was one. She pulled her hand from under his, then traced the outline of his lips with her finger. His smile faded, and he watched her face with an intensity that was both unnerving and exciting. She lowered her mouth to his.

She equated letting him into her life with shutting down the engine of her plane at the top of a hammerhead stall. Anything could happen, and it could be the most thrilling ride of her life, or she could crash and burn. Either way, she would have no regrets. That she promised herself.

One thing she’d fantasized about doing since the first night they’d met was exploring all those muscled parts of him. He dropped his hands to his sides, and other than their tangled tongues—busy tasting each other—he remained still. She understood his message that she was in charge.

With their mouths locked together, she unbuttoned his shirt down to where it was tucked into his pants, then slipped her hand under the material. His skin was smooth, taut, and hot. The little hum he gave when she trailed her fingers along his side encouraged her to be bolder, and she found the arrow of hair leading down his stomach to his belt.

She had never touched a man as muscle hard as Ryan, and all that power was sexy as hell. With her hand poised at his belt buckle, she asked herself if she was ready to go that far with him. From the time she had flown her first aerobatic plane, she had found her passion, discovering a strength and courage inside her she had never known existed. “Reach for the stars” had become her life’s motto. This man was a shining star, one she couldn’t resist. Refusing to allow her fear of rejection to keep her from what she wanted, she began to unbuckle his belt.

So fast that she yelped, he had her under him. “Not tonight, cherub. I promised to have you back in an hour and time’s up.”

Confused, she blinked up at the face hovering over hers. “I don’t understand.”

“What? That I’m not taking you on a public beach where anyone could come by, even though it’s night? Here’s the thing. I thought . . . no, I hoped, we would end up in bed, yours or mine, didn’t matter. Then I thought we probably wouldn’t see each other again once we both got what we wanted.”

“But?” she asked when he paused and looked out over the gulf. If he said he didn’t want to see her again, she might cry.

“But,” he said, returning his gaze to hers, “what I said earlier. I want to see you again. I’m not looking for another wife, but I’m also not a man who gets off on seeing how many women I can sleep with.”

He laughed. “At least, I don’t think I am. Never had a chance to find that one out. I want a girlfriend, someone I can spend time with, someone who wants to be with me. So, before we go and screw up the chance of that happening by having a one-night stand, I want to tell you that I think I’d like for you to be my girlfriend. If you’re interested, that is.” Another laugh, one that sounded as if he were embarrassed. “Christ, I sound like a high school kid. You wanna go steady?”

Charlie was charmed down to her toes by his little speech. No boy in her high school had ever asked her to go steady, even though she had kissed more than her fair share of them.

“Well, do you?” he asked.

CHAPTER SEVEN

R
yan kissed his new girlfriend good-bye, then watched her Corvette until the taillights disappeared. Damned weird night, and damned weird stuff had come out of his mouth. He wasn’t even sure he was ready for a girlfriend. But when Charlie had said all those
becaus
e
s, he couldn’t imagine not seeing her again.

When her fingers had traced a circle over his belt, he’d come close to removing it for her so she could get her hand inside his pants. He had stopped her because he feared once they made love, she wouldn’t agree to see him again.

So he had asked his dumb question, and surprise, it appeared they were going steady. He looked up at the stars that his pilot girl loved. “What a night,” he said to them, then got in his car and headed straight for the closest hamburger drive-thru.

When he arrived home and walked inside his apartment, Mr. Bunny was at the door as usual to greet him. The rabbit hopped along behind him as Ryan made his way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, then decided he should call his new girlfriend to make sure she had arrived home safely. Slouched on the sofa with his beer, and a rabbit nestled between his legs, he dialed Charlie’s number.

“Hey, cherub,” he said when she answered. “Wanna have phone sex?”

“Not until I have your class ring hanging on a chain around my neck,” she fired back.

“I knew I was forgetting something. You want my letter sweater, too?”

“You got one?”

He smiled as he pulled a throw pillow up behind his head. “No, but I could give you my dad’s.”

“Is he as cute as you?”

“You think I’m cute?” A little snort sounded in his ear, and he took that as a yes. “Stop that, Mr. Bunny.” He pushed the rabbit’s mouth away from where he was nibbling on Ryan’s sweatpants.

“Hey, Ryan?”

“Yeah?” Was she going to say something sexy?

“If you tell me you have a giant, invisible rabbit as a friend, then I’m breaking up with you.”

Laughter burst from him, and it felt good. “Nope, just a normal-sized living and breathing one.”

“Sheesh, you had me worried there for a minute. Seriously, though, you have a rabbit for a pet? That’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

“Not gonna argue with that, but in my defense, he adopted me. Showed up on my doorstep one day and refuses to leave.”

“Softie,” she whispered.

“Mmm, not always,” he said, but doubted she’d get his double meaning. Even though their conversation wasn’t sexually charged, he was getting turned on just talking to her.

“No dirty talk, Mr. Hot Guy, until I see that class ring.” She ruined her stern voice by laughing.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Come here for dinner. I’ll put it around your neck myself.” Where the hell was the ring?

“Do I get to meet Mr. Bunny?”

“Absolutely.” They agreed on a time, and he gave her his address. “Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“I really do like you.”

She made a
pff
f
ing noise. “I should hope so. You did ask me to go steady, after all.”

After he disconnected the call, he stared at the phone as doubt crept in. Was he going too fast with her, committing to something he wasn’t sure he was ready for? After thinking about it for a few minutes, he waved away his misgivings. The going-steady thing wasn’t real, just a game. And he did want to see her more than once, and more than just for sex. Whether that made her his girlfriend, who knew?

“We have a ring to find, Mr. Bunny,” he said, as he carried the rabbit with him to the bedroom. An hour later, his closet torn apart, and the rabbit lost somewhere in the mess strewn on the floor, he found the ring in a shoebox. Also in the box were pictures of him and Kathleen.

Other than the one photo of her he kept on his dresser, he hadn’t looked at any pictures of her since he had watched her coffin being lowered into the ground. Hadn’t wanted to. He shuffled through them, stopping at one taken by his mom the night of the senior prom.

Kathleen had been beautiful, and he touched a finger to her hair, tracing the auburn locks down to where they disappeared behind her back. She had grown into her beauty. When they had decided to be best friends, she had hated her hair, the freckles across her nose, and the way her front teeth protruded. By her fifteenth birthday, her hair had taken on its deep auburn color, her freckles—which he had loved—had been easily hidden by a little makeup, and braces had given her perfect teeth.

He remembered the dress in the picture. She had dragged him with her to shop for it, so no surprise he could close his eyes and recall that afternoon. He had wanted her to take his mother instead, but Kathleen wasn’t having it. “You have to like it, too,” she’d said.

So he had sat in a chair outside the dressing rooms of some downtown Boston department store. The first two times she had walked out, he’d shaken his head. The third time when she appeared in front of him, he sucked in a breath. His Kathleen was stunning.

Two years earlier, his parents had finally saved enough money to take the family on a vacation to the home country. The dress was the same deep green as the hills of Ireland that he could still see in his mind’s eye. The bodice, held up by thin straps over her shoulders, gave a bare hint of what was covered by the material, and the skirt swirled around the tops of her knees as she pivoted for him.

He reached out a hand and fingered the soft fabric. “This one.” She had been his best friend since the third grade, they had talked about it and decided to be boyfriend and girlfriend in the ninth grade, and he fell in love with her on that day in a Boston department store.

It wasn’t until he felt his eyes burning that he realized tears were falling down his cheeks. Angry that he still cried for her, he tossed the photos back into the box and slammed on the lid. He slipped his class ring onto his finger, than began putting his closet back in order. Under an old sweatshirt, he found a sleeping rabbit.

Ryan checked his watch to see he had a little over an hour before the grocery store closed. Leaving his new pet to his dreams, he went to the kitchen and made a list of the items he would need to make his new girlfriend an authentic Irish meal. Lots of new things in his life, he thought as he grabbed his keys. He hoped they were good ones—the job, the girlfriend, the rabbit—because he could certainly use some good.

Charlie fisted her hands at her sides to keep from putting a hole in the nearby wall. “I want my plane moved into the hangar.” She poked a finger into David’s chest. “Today.” She had kept it stored on the tarmac, tied down at night like all the other planes because it was cheaper. Hangar space would take a bigger bite out of her funds, but she didn’t care. With a nail driven into each of the tires, she could no longer deny someone was messing with her plane.

The airport manager spread out his hands. “We’re full in here, you know that.”

“Don’t give me your bull crap. I’ve seen you squeeze in an overnight plane before. Squeeze mine in.” David was a genius at making room when a pilot slipped him a few extra bucks.

“Fine, but only for a few days.”

She kicked at one of the flat tires. “No, until we find out who’s screwing with my plane, or would you rather attend my funeral?”

His face paled. “Jesus, Charlie, you know better’n that. Don’t even talk that way, it’s bad luck.”

It was going to be someone’s bad luck whenever she found out who was playing their nasty games. She eyed David. He gave her a blank look, then his eyes widened.

“You’re not thinking . . . seriously, you don’t think . . . dammit, you couldn’t possibly think . . .”

“You’re sputtering, David.” She sighed. “No, not really. It’s just that it could be anyone, you know. I don’t know who to be suspicious of.”

Her gaze roamed around the hangar, stopping on Gary. The top half of his body was invisible as he stood on the far side of a Learjet. As the head mechanic, he would definitely have the know-how, but what had she ever done to him that would make him want to kill her? Three other mechanics and five of the line crew guys huddled in a corner, drinking coffee as they waited for their day to begin. Charlie glanced at the clock. God forbid they started three minutes early.

Her first student wasn’t scheduled until eleven because she had marked out time to start choreographing her performance for the air show. As her aerobatic plane now had flat tires, practicing was out. Whoever was doing these things had declared open warfare with the nails. She only had two weeks before the show, and although that was plenty of time, she hated leaving preparations until the last minute.

“Well, it’s not me, so get that idea out of your head,” David said, bringing her attention back to him.

She patted his arm. “I know. I’m just frustrated. No, actually I’m royally pissed off. Don’t pay me any mind. You need to call the police and file a report about this.”

“Ahh . . .” He kicked the toe of his shoe across the cement floor.

“Right. Bad publicity. Well, hear this. One more incident, and I’m calling them myself.” Not waiting for an answer, she said, “I guess I’ll go catch up on paperwork.” Halfway across the hangar, she paused and turned. “I better see my plane tucked up in here all safe and sound tonight.” Satisfied with his nod, she headed to her cubicle.

As she passed the other flight instructor cubicles, she began ticking them off. Scott? Had she ever done anything to him that would give him reason enough to mess with her plane? Rob? Hank? Derrick?

She ruled out her ex-boyfriend. What would he have to gain? Aaron had been the one to break up with her, so why would he be angry with her?

Then there was her stepfather, who had found Jesus right after she had testified against him at his parole hearing. If true—which she doubted—wouldn’t Jesus frown on murder? Plus, he’d have to somehow get an outsider to do his dirty work.

The only person she knew who truly hated her was her stepsister. Charlie couldn’t imagine Ashley deciding to commit murder, though. Nor would she know how to sabotage a plane.

“Gah!” She hated being suspicious of everyone. Who was she supposed to trust?

At her desk, the framed photo of her family before everything had fallen apart caught her eye. It had been taken at Christmas in front of the last tree they would ever decorate together. She’d been such a brat that day, mad because her friends were going to the movies while she had to stay home so her mother could get the perfect holiday picture of the family wearing stupid matching red sweaters.

They always decorated the tree exactly one week before Christmas, a tradition her mother insisted on. Charlie picked up the photo and stared at her fifteen-year-old chubby self. Still pouting when it was taken, she had refused to smile, and suddenly she was embarrassed by her behavior, especially all these years later.

Her stepsister, Ashley, always perfect, smiled brightly at the camera. They’d never had a great relationship, but they had mostly tolerated each other. Until it all fell to pieces, anyway. Did Ashley hate her so much that she would concoct some kind of stupid scheme? Charlie tapped her fingers on her desk for a moment, then made up her mind. Last she had heard, Ashley was still living in her father’s house, and fishing her phone from her purse, Charlie dialed a number she still remembered.

“Hello, this is Ashley.”

Half expecting that Ashley would have changed her number, Charlie squeezed her eyes shut. Her stepsister’s voice was as perky as ever. “I-it’s Charlene.” Silence. “I just wondered . . . ah, I just wondered how you were doing.” She should have thought out what to say first.

“What do you care?”

Okay, Ashley still hated her, but enough to want to kill her? “I just . . . I dunno. You left the parole hearing before I got a chance to talk to you. We’re still family, you know, and I—”

“We’re not family.”

The line went dead, and Charlie dropped her phone on her desk. “Nice talking to you, too, sis.”

The day Ashley’s father had been convicted, she had confronted Charlie outside the courtroom. “How could you?” she had screamed, her face inches from Charlie’s.