Kate Hoffmann - Paris or Bust!

Oh my, he had hard muscle beneath his shirt. Her fingers squeezed, testing, her knees quivering again when nothing gave.

“Kylie…”

Fascinated, utterly unable to help herself, she squeezed him again. “Yeah?”

“You’re…touching me.”

She was. She couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I like it,” he said in a voice that sounded a little ragged. He gripped her when she might have pulled away. “I like it a lot.”

Suddenly her entire body forgot its own pledge. It was humming, craving, yearning, and when she looked up into Wade’s face, his mouth slowly curved into a wry smile.

“Say the word,” he said huskily, with one more trace of the pad of his thumb over her mouth. “Just say the word and I’ll touch you back. I’ll be quite happy to touch you back, Kylie.”

She almost went for it. She certainly, suddenly, desperately, wanted to. But she just realized something else…Wade stood there, looking at her patiently. He understood her enough to know she required patience. Buckets of it.

And that, she decided, was the worst part of the morning. Not the reporters, or the pictures they’d almost gotten. Not her grandmother looking for a date amongst the clients.

But Wade knowing her so well.

K YLIE WENT BACKinto the lobby, with Wade not far behind. He had a flight-she knew because once again she’d peeked-and would be gone the rest of the day on a charter to Santa Barbara.

Good.

She needed the rest of the day to recover from the feel of his hands on her body. In less than two minutes he’d dissipated most of the stress tension in her neck, replacing it with a different sort of tension altogether.

One that wouldn’t be easily assuaged by working on an airplane engine.

When she stepped into the lobby, Kylie automatically braced herself for the worst. Her mother had probably single-handedly destroyed the phone system again, or somehow managed to break down dispatch.

“Honey!” Daisy called, waving her over. “I just reheated your stress-relieving tea, come and get it.” She held out the mug, then swept a stray strand of hair off her daughter’s face. “You seem a little pale,” she murmured. “What’s the matter?”

Nothing, except every hormone she had was on full alert. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, but drink your tea, you need some color in your cheeks.” She patted her hair. “I was thinking about going a shade lighter to celebrate. What do you think?”

“I’m going to my office.”

“But what about my hair? I don’t want to look too old.”

Kylie looked at the woman who wasn’t quite fifty and looked two decades younger. “Mom, you look like my only slightly older sister.”

“Oh, honey. Really?”

“Really.”

Daisy grinned. “You’re such a good daughter. Now about you…I don’t suppose you have a hairbrush and lipstick lurking under all that mess on your desk? Because now might be a good time to find them.”

That “mess” was their livelihood. “Yeah, right, mom. Lipstick on my desk. Funny stuff.” Kylie went to her office. In the center of her desk sat a little pot of daisies. There was also a little sack lunch with a sticky note attached that said “eat me.”

Her mother.

And her heart sighed. You’re a good daughter, her mother always said, but suddenly Kylie saw the flip side. “You’re a good mother, too,” she whispered in the empty room.

But she still didn’t look for a hairbrush or lipstick.

WADE FOUND IT amusing how Kylie took all the press over the next few weeks. She glowered, scowled and grumbled her way through the days when it came to anything contest related, and yet seemed to thrive on running the airport. Watching her in charge-flying, wrenching, all of it, turned him on.

But then Family Voyager magazine wanted a spread in their next issue with all the nominated mothers and their children. Kylie appeared to look forward to that about as much as one would a root canal. On impacted molars. Without drugs.

Wade hadn’t mentioned his offer to buy the airport, and knew that even though she was up against the wall financially, she wouldn’t bring it up, either.

But oddly enough, that was okay, because he was distracted with something else, something disturbing.

He wanted Kylie more than he wanted the airport.

They were night and day, he and Kylie. He knew that, and yet they shared so much. They were both bullheaded, and far more likely to walk into a fight rather than away from one.

They also had both worked hard for their dreams, and had a passion for flying.

And they both figured love would never play a serious part in their lives.

He had a bad feeling he was wrong there, and was man enough to admit it. But he was also man enough to let Kylie figure it out for herself.

With his help, of course.

For two weeks he’d been running into her as often as possible, timing their entrance into the maintenance hangar down to the second, so that he could brush a hand low on her spine as he held the door open for her. Or squeeze past her in the lobby, making sure to touch her hip, to flick the bill of that baseball cap she wore in favor of doing something with the short mop of hair he so loved.

It worked, too, he could tell because her breath would catch, or she’d stare at him wide-eyed, a little bewildered, as if she didn’t quite know what to do with him.

Which made them just about even, as he didn’t know what to do with her, either. Correction-he knew exactly what he wanted to do with her, which was toss her in his bed and follow her down to have his merry way with her hot little bod.

Beyond that, he had a sinking idea he knew what else he wanted…and since it involved more than he’d ever wanted before, he decided to dance around that for a while and concentrate on the lust aspect.

And getting her into his bed.

On the day of the scheduled magazine photo shoot for Kylie and Daisy, he found Kylie in front of the vending machine in the deserted mechanics office. She had her hands on her hips and a frown on her pretty face. Before he could say a word, she kicked the machine.

A candy bar fell out. “Now that’s more like it,” she muttered, and tore into the chocolate.

“Skip breakfast again?” he asked mildly, smiling when she whirled to look at him. “I should tell you, that snarl on your face makes me want to shove you up against that wall and kiss it away.”

She turned her attention back to the machine. “I’d do just about anything for that Babe Ruth bar in there.”

He nearly swallowed his tongue. “Anything?”

“Maybe even give you that kiss of my own free will.”

For that he’d do a lot more than buy her a candy bar, but when he pulled change out of his pocket, she snickered. “Oh, like that’s going to work.”

He didn’t care if he had to tear apart the entire vending machine with his bare hands, he was going to get her that candy bar, and she was going to give him the promised kiss. He was already hard just thinking about it. The money dropped in, he pushed the button, and like magic, the requested candy bar came out.

She stared at him in such utter surprise when he handed it to her, that he nearly grinned. “Now about that kiss,” he murmured, stepping close.

With a narrow little laugh, she backed up a step, hit the back of her knees on a low table in front of the couch, and sat down on it hard. “But…that machine never works, not without a well-placed kick and three times too much money.”

“So you were lying about the kiss?”

Her eyes narrowed as she tipped her head back to look up at him. “I never lie.”