The Rogue And The Rich Girl. Christine Pacheco

      “Anytime you are,” she answered, shoving aside the unwelcome thoughts of his all-knowing eyes. Nicole opened the passenger door and saw a half-dozen or so airsick bags on her seat. She didn’t know whether he was being courteous or cautious. Cautious, she decided, moving them to the map compartment. Ace wouldn’t have done anything for her comfort, only his.

      After a Learjet cleared, Ace taxied into position on the runway, and opened the throttle, giving the engine full power.

      She wasn’t sure why, but this takeoff didn’t traumatize her as much as the first one had. Ace nudged the nose into the air, then leveled off, and her stomach only twisted with sporadic pains. She marveled at the sensation and told herself it had nothing to do with the pilot’s obvious skills.

      Many hours later, following another brief landing for fuel at a scary-looking airstrip near a small Mexican village, the sun splashed its majestic array of colors across a vivid blue backdrop, then dropped on the western horizon.

      She craned her head to look out the window, seeing the world in a new way. Invariably, on commercial flights, she lowered the window shade so she wouldn’t be forced to accept the reality of flirting with clouds while the land beneath her melded into a solid mass of potential crash sites.

      Magenta swirled with purples and mauves, and she realized it was the first time she’d seen a sunset in over two years. Her job, first as Daddy’s assistant, now as sole owner, consumed every available hour and even a few that weren’t available. “It’s beautiful up here,” she said, nearly ten minutes later, after the sun had given a final wink, casting sparkling shimmers into the Caribbean.

      “There’s no place like the sky,” he agreed over the engine’s roar.

      For a moment, the grooves around his eyes relaxed, and Nicole glimpsed the real human being buried beneath layers of hard exterior. Was it possible...?

      Instantly the softening disappeared.

      The next few hours passed in a blur to her.

      “We’ll be landing soon.”

      Butterflies leapt to life, bringing her out of her silent plans for the meeting with the governor.

      “You might want to take some more Dramamine.”

      “I’ve already taken some.”

      “You got them out of the bag?”

      She wrinkled her nose. “I met Pinocchio.”

      “Pinocchio?” he echoed, seemingly confused.

      “The underwear in your bag.”

      Ace laughed, and the sound was every bit as rich and vibrant as she’d thought. Like Kahlúa and cream splashed over big chunky ice cubes. And every bit as potent.

      “They were a gag gift,” he said. “At the bachelor party I went to a couple of days ago.”

      “I could hardly care what you dress in, Mr. Lawson.” Still, she couldn’t help but wonder how they would look on him.

      “I assure you, Ms. Jackson, I’ve never worn anything like that.”

      She resisted the implied invitation to ask what he did wear.

      “Not my style.”

      Nicole turned away, looking out the window, seeing nothing except the vastness of water, which she assumed was the Caribbean. “I thought you said we’re landing.”

      “We are.”

      “Where?” she asked.

      “Down there.”

      “Down where?” she asked again, not seeing anything resembling an island, let alone a runway.

      Outrageously, he winked at her. “Trust me.”

      Her stomach dropped when Ace began the descent. Trusting him was the last thing she wanted to do. And the one thing she had to stake her life on.

      The plane hit a patch of rough air, causing them to lose altitude drastically.

      “We’ll be okay.”

      She clutched the metal bar under her seat, the words trust me echoing in her mind.

      They emerged from the turbulence, less than a heartbeat later.

      “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

      “Terrifying,” she said.

      “That wasn’t terrifying,” he said. “Terrifying is when you’re in the air with a bullet hole in the windshield and a fire in the engine.”

      His tone was matter-of-fact, and it lit a responding flame somewhere inside her. He’d experienced the danger of living on the edge but didn’t allow it to bother him.

      “Are you ever afraid?”

      Ten, maybe fifteen seconds passed and she thought he didn’t intend to answer. What was going on behind that smoky gaze? What was he hiding?

      Finally he admitted, “Sometimes. Sometimes I’m afraid.”

      He looked at her. He obviously had a human side he didn’t want to show often. For some reason, the fact that he’d afforded her a glimpse of his fallible humanity touched her.

      “Why do you put yourself in a position like that in the first place?”

      “Because life can be shallow and meaningless.”

      He specialized in taking people where no one else would. It had earned him a reputation she’d been scared to trust. Until she’d had no other options. “Putting yourself in danger makes life meaningful?”

      “Living makes life meaningful,” he said.

      She started to ask another question, to dig a little deeper into the character he wanted shrouded, but he interrupted.

      “The runway’s just ahead.”

      Nicole looked out the windshield, seeing something that resembled a lump of coal, floating in the middle of the sea. “Cabo de Bello?”

      He looked at his console again. “Yep.”

      A single light reflected in the distance. She felt like Columbus, discovering the blessed sight of land after months at sea.

      Ace maneuvered the plane into a descent. Of all the things that could happen, gravity concerned her most.

      “Hang on,” he said. “This runway’s still screwed up from the last tropical storm.”

      She knew that, but hearing him say it made it more immediate. Alarming.

      As they got closer, it appeared palm tree fronds grabbed at them like demonic fingers. She swallowed a terrified scream. The landing gear snagged in a rut, making them careen wildly. Ace swore. Nicole prayed. The plane rocked and shuddered, and the seat belt sliced across her middle.

      “We’ll be okay in half a second,” he shouted.

      The acrid stench of smoking rubber burned her nose. But before she knew it, they slid to a gradual stop, several dozen yards away from a threatening stand of tropical trees.

      He’d performed an exceptional landing.

      “You all right?”

      Her muscles felt stiff but, other than that, she was all right. She nodded.

      “Sure?”

      A man with dark skin, and hair black as the night sky, rushed toward them, flashlight casting shadows all around. His face was alive with excitement. He grabbed the pilot’s door and threw it open. “Ah! Señor Ace. I saw a plane trying to land like a crazy dodo bird...” For emphasis, the man spread his arms wide and turned a circle on the ground. “...I knew it had to be you.” He grinned, sporting a hole where front teeth usually resided.

      “Hola,