The Rogue And The Rich Girl. Christine Pacheco

senses than the hundred-dollar-an-ounce cologne she was accustomed to on her male colleagues and rare dates.

      He shifted, his hip bone brushing her thigh. She sucked in a huge gulp of air. The man was dangerous, more unnerving than flying, and the aura of power he possessed told her that for the first time ever, she was way out of her league.

      Since she’d grown up and learned to deal with the crisscrossing of scars left by an uncomfortable childhood, that of never fitting in or belonging, never being quite good enough, Nicole had allowed no man close enough to bother her.

      And she wouldn’t start with Ace Lawson.

      Straightening, she inched away from the close contact of their bodies.

      “I have to stop to refuel before the last stint that’ll take us over water.”

      The unease in Nicole’s stomach became acid. Needing another dose of Dramamine, she shifted as much as the restricting belt allowed. She grappled behind the seat for her suitcase. When her fingers were unable to locate anything except the coarseness of canvas and layers of maps, she asked, “Where’s my suitcase?”

      “Under my duffel bag.” He turned to her. “You’re not sick again, are you?”

      “I’m nervous about the landing,” she admitted.

      “I’ll take it easy and steady,” he promised.

      She wondered if he was only talking about the plane.

      “But if you need more medicine right away, there’s probably some in the first-aid kit.”

      She glanced around. “Where’s that?”

      “My duffel.”

      The idea of rifling through his personal effects bothered her...more than the thought of the landing. “I’ll be okay.”

      He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But there’s no need for heroics. In fact, I’d much prefer you didn’t attempt it.”

      He guided the plane through puffy clouds. Nicole focused on a spot in the distance.

      “Almost there.”

      The plane rocked and bounced as the runway rose to meet them. She gripped the bottom of the seat until numbness froze her hands.

      “You can wake up now, Sleeping Beauty.”

      Nicole emerged from her self-imposed trance like a caterpillar transformed into a butterfly. She blinked, relieved to discover Ace taxiing to the tie-down area.

      “You’re still alive,” he said.

      “Tell that to my stomach.”

      Ace laughed softly, then shook his head. He maneuvered the plane into the spot indicated by an attendant. When he shut down the engine, he turned to Nicole. “You hungry?”

      “Couldn’t eat a thing.”

      “You should try something light. This’ll be your last opportunity for a decent meal until tonight.”

      “I’ll take my chances.”

      He lifted a broad shoulder in a hint of a shrug, then dropped it again just as quickly. “We’ll be leaving in about fifteen minutes.”

      Ace swung his long legs to the ground, then came around to her side of the plane. He offered his hand, and she accepted it, surprised by the tingle that chased up her spine at the warmth of his touch.

      He released her, moving back a few steps. The motion caused his jacket to flap open. Something metallic glinted in the bright sunlight. She looked again. The handle of a knife.

      Nicole gulped. A long knife, the size of the one she carved with at home, was sheathed in a leather holster. Her heart rate jumped. No man she’d ever known owned a knife like that, much less packed it casually on his waist. Instinctively, she knew he had the knowledge to wield it. A shiver of fear traced her spine.

      “Is that really necessary?” she asked, her voice betraying her fear.

      He followed her gaze. “This?” He pulled the knife from its home with a fluid motion and a vicious hiss.

      The sunshine refracted in a hundred different directions, shooting rainbow colors into the sky. The brightness of the glint made her blink several times.

      “Yes, it’s really necessary.”

      Pulling her gaze away from the wickedly serrated metal edge, she looked directly into Ace’s hooded eyes. He’d certainly drawn the weapon quickly, proving his lazy good looks deceptive. “I received a letter from Governor Rodriguez just a few days ago, saying he was anxious to talk again. He wants this account saved as much as my client does.” As much as I do, she thought.

      “No doubt,” he agreed.

      His silence, combined with a tense stance, made her push on. In her years as a leader in the corporate world, she’d learned to read body language. And Ace’s screamed he was hiding something. “Go on,” she encouraged. “If you have something to say, say it.”

      In a single flip of the wrist, he expertly returned the knife to its worn home. “Look, Ms. Jackson, I have plenty to say about this trip of yours to Cabo de Bello. Regardless of that, my job is to get you there...”

      His glance lazily traveled the length of her body. For the second time that day. She refused to shift uncomfortably, but standing still was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done.

      When his piercing gaze finally met her face, he was met with her best impression of corporate coolness. But nothing could hide the way her blood rushed through her body.

      “...And see that your butt is kept in one piece until I get you back home to your safe, insulated condo in Los Angeles.”

      “Really, Mr. Lawson—”

      “Ace. The name’s Ace. We’re going to be spending the next couple of days together. You might as well dispense with the formality.” Calmly he folded his arms across his chest.

      “If that’s the way you want to play it...” She allowed her sentence to trail off.

      “Honey, I guarantee you, this is anything but a game. The report that crossed your desk last week wasn’t a joke. The island’s politically unsettled, and I don’t mean a comfortable ‘vote ‘em out of office’ mentality. I’m talking about ‘shoot ‘em till they shut up’ philosophy.”

      Back home, in her floor-to-ceiling glass-paned office, the crudely typed report seemed more the stuff of a grade-B movie than her life. Her heart beat faster.

      Unfolding his arms, he made one hand into a fist. “You and your client are trying to change a way of life.”

      “Then why did you agree to pilot me?”

      “Money.”

      Nicole arched a brow. “Somehow you don’t seem the type to require a lot of money.”

      “You’re right. I don’t.”

      “Then why?”

      “Anyone ever tell you you’re a pushy broad?”

      “The last man who did wore his front teeth in his lip.”

      Ace nearly cracked a smile. Nearly. “You’re welcome to try.”

      “I’d prefer a simple answer.”

      “Right. I’m taking you to Cabo de Bello because you want to go and I need the cash.”

      She waited. And waited.

      “That’s as simple as it gets,” he said.

      He took her shoulders between his hands, firmly, but not excessively so. That didn’t stop a frisson of awareness from passing up her spine.

      “I intend to take this opportunity to use every means at my disposal to get you to change