Jill Shalvis - Aussie Rules

“We don’t care about the cost,” the man said. “I’m going to have to insist on another pilot on board.”

Mel’s pleasant expression didn’t change but she was insulted. Bo could tell by the little pucker between her eyebrows, and the way her smile went just a little tight. Oh, and the smoke coming out her ears was a sign, too. God, she was so uptight she probably squeaked when she walked, and so unbelievably sexy while she was at it. It was a first for him, wanting a woman that he also wanted to strangle.

“Honestly,” she said. “Another pilot would just add unnecessary expense-”

“Expense is not a problem. We’re just flying into the city for a business meeting and turning right around. We’d make it worth your while.”

This did not cheer Mel up one bit. She was in a bind, and there was only one way out.

Another pilot. She looked over at Bo, her face inscrutable, her body, the one he’d had just the night before, tense enough to shatter.

He knew how to banish that tenseness now, he knew just how to touch her. Knew a helluva lot more about her than she was comfortable with, he was quite certain.

She needed him. Differently than last night, when she’d needed him buried deep inside her so that there was no way to tell where he ended and she’d begun, when she’d needed him so badly she’d left fingerprints on his ass and a bite mark on his shoulder, but need was need.

And suddenly, it felt good to be him. “Need help?” he asked, a little more cheerful.

The look on her face was priceless. He’d just put her in a position of having to ask. She’d hate that, of course, which made him even more cheerful than strictly called for.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hutton,” she said, shoulders rigid. “This is Bo Black.” She looked at Bo. “Can you fly with us today?” she asked, barely opening the mouth that just last night had brought him to such heights of pleasure he’d nearly blacked out.

“Hmmm…Can I fly with you today?” He pulled his PDA out of his pocket and made a show of checking it. “Just so happens I’m free.”

Mel’s eyes were sheer glaciers by now. Oh, she hated this. She didn’t want him here, didn’t want his help.

But he was here, and available. And, as it happened, he owned the place. That made him the boss. He liked that, too, he decided. He liked that a lot.

“Are you a pilot?” Mr. Hutton asked Bo.

Bo purposely looked away from Mel. “That I am,” he said happily. “Been flying since before I could drive.”

Mr. Hutton nodded. “You’ll do.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“You’re Australian.” Mrs. Hutton smiled warmly. “Your accent is lovely.”

Bo smiled.

Mel’s teeth gnashed together.

Mr. Hutton took Mrs. Hutton’s arm. “We’ll be onboard, waiting.”

Mel waited until they’d walked onto the tarmac. “I didn’t need you or your ‘lovely accent’ to interfere.”

“Sure? Because I think the bloke was about to cancel on you.”

She crossed her arms. “That would have been fine.”

“You need the income.”

“Nice of you to concern yourself, but you needn’t.”

“Actually, I do.”

Her eyes were flashing, her body practically vibrating with temper. “And how’s that?”

“See, Anderson Air is a client of North Beach. I am now North Beach. Your success is my success. Get it?”

“I thought all you wanted was your money back.”

“Right. But that isn’t happening, is it?” He clucked her beneath her tilted chin. “I’ve moved on to plan B.”

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth opened-to blast him, he was quite certain-but he set a finger against her lips. “Fight me on this,” he said softly, “and trust me, you won’t like plan B very much.”

Then, content with the unexpected change in both the day and his luck, he began to whistle as he walked onto the tarmac.

Mel watched him swagger out and took a deep breath, then glanced over at Dimi, who’d been sitting behind her desk but had come to a shocked stand.

“You’re not going to let him do this,” Dimi said, clearly shaken.

Mel watched through the window as Bo shook hands with the Huttons, clearly having a lovely chat. Tall, rugged and rangy even from a distance, she could understand his appeal to their clients. It was hard to tear her eyes off him. With his hair just on the wrong side of his last haircut, and that dangerous smile, he pretty much screamed “let me break your heart.”

As she watched, he lowered his sunglasses over his eyes and turned toward the window, his face drawn with exhaustion but still sexy as hell, damn him, somehow seeming as if he purposely wanted to remind her of last night.

As if she could forget what it’d felt like to be with him, his hands stripping her clothes off while his mouth glided over her flesh. God. Even now, even in the light of day, she wanted him to start all over again at the beginning.

What was wrong with her?

And then the bastard smiled.

In spite of everything, her stomach tightened, her heart took a little trip. “Face it, Dimi,” she grated out, eyes still locked on Bo. “It’s beyond our control.” He was beyond her control, and really, when it came right down to it, that’s what bothered her the most. “Sally saw to that when she signed the deed over.”

“She didn’t have a choice,” Dimi maintained. “Somehow I know it.”

Mel sighed. “There’s always a choice.”

Dimi slowly shook her head. “Mel, Sally loved-loves-us. She wouldn’t just do this without a word.”

“But she did.”

Dimi stared at her, hurt and frustrated, but before either could say a word, Ernest came in and slapped a jar down on the desk.

Yet another spider wriggled its legs at them.

Both Dimi and Mel gasped and shrank back against each other.

“A daddy longlegs, and he’s harmless,” Ernest said. “Harmless, you big babies. Plus he eats the bad guys.” He waggled a finger in Mel’s face. “He’s one of the good guys, and if I’d cleaned the closets out like you’d wanted, missy, I’d have ended up killing him.”

“Um, maybe you could take him outside. Where there are no closets at all.”

“I plan to.” He snatched up the jar. “Your e-mail problem?”

Mel turned a wary gaze on him. “Yeah?”

“Spam mail. Can’t trace it to one person.”

It’d taken him long enough. “Okay. Thanks.”

“That was the good news.”

She blinked. “And the bad?”

“This morning? I was the first in.” He slapped an envelope down on the counter. It had MEL typed across the front, and had been opened. “This was taped to the front door.”

Mel slid out the piece of paper. It read: I warned you.

She eyed Ernest. “Why was the envelope opened?”

“Because I opened it.”

She felt a muscle beneath her eye begin to twitch. “I realize that. But it’s addressed to me.”

“Maybe it was important,” he said. “Maybe it was from you.”

“It says Mel. Implying it’s to me.”

His gaze cut to the damning evidence, then he hitched a bony shoulder. “I’ve got work.”

When he’d walked away Mel stared in disbelief at Dimi.

“Forget him, call the police,” Dimi said, and shuddered at the spider. “I wish he’d have taken that thing-”

Ernest came back, and snatched the jar.

Dimi let out a breath. When he left again, Mel stared down at the note. “Yeah. Probably the police is a good idea.” She handed the note to Dimi. “See anything unusual about this?”

“It’s got our logo on it.” Dimi looked down at the paper. “I ordered this paper from Staples. These pads are everywhere inside this place-” She froze. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah.” Mel felt vaguely ill. “It was written from inside the airport.”