Lori Wilde - Crash Landing

“N.O. Nada.”

“How much would it take to change your mind?”

“Money is not the issue.”

“What is?”

“Well, for one thing, I already have a 2:00 p.m. fare.”

“They can wait. Call another bush pilot.”

What an arrogant tool he was. “My, we have a grand sense of our own importance, don’t we?”

Gibb snorted, pressing his lips into a firm line. “This is an emergency.”

“An emergency?” That changed everything. Why was she such a smart mouth? “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said contritely. “Did someone die?”

“Worse.”

Sophia put a hand to her heart. “What is worse than death?”

“Marriage.”

Confused, Sophia pushed her hat back on her head. “Someone is getting married? That is your emergency?”

“Yes.” His voice was flat, brooking no more questions.

Sophia questioned anyway. “You’re against marriage?”

“Not in general. Not for most people. It’s just not my personal bailiwick.”

“Bailiwick?”

“It means sphere of knowledge.”

She grimaced. “Fan- cy .”

“Once upon a time I hired a vocabulary coach, deal with it.”

She raised both palms. “Communication doesn’t work unless you can speak so that others understand you.”

“Andalé, andalé.” He made shooing motions at her. “How’s that for communication?”

“Have you been watching old Speedy Gonzales cartoons?”

“It’s not the correct word?” His face colored.

“Not if you don’t mind sounding like a cartoon mouse. Vámonos or rápido might be what you’re looking for.”

“Well, let’s vámonos, rápido, rápido.”

“There’s one thing I’m still unclear on.”

He exhaled loudly. “What’s that?”

“How is marriage an emergency?”

“I have to stop the wedding.”

“Ah, I see.” She nodded.

“See what?”

“You are still hung up on a former lover and she has broken your heart by marrying another before you could reconcile.”

“No, no.” He shifted, jammed his hands in his pockets and leaned in closer to her. “That’s not it at all.”

She caught a whiff of his scent—kumquat, leather, musk—nice cologne. “Then what is it?”

“She’s all wrong for him.”

“Who?”

“He has only known her a month,” Gibb muttered.

“Who?”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“A month!” Gibb exclaimed. “My best friend is getting married to a woman that he’s only known for one month.”

“Oh, I see. That clearly is the end of the world.”

“Would you marry a man you’d only known for a month?”

Sophia grinned, trying to get him to lighten up. “Depends on the man.”

He scoffed, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those.”

“One of what?”

“Die-hard romantics.”

“I have not found my true love but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe he’s not out there somewhere.”

Gibb raised his face to the sky. “Please, spare me the love impaired.”

“What is wrong with love?”

“It muddles the brain. Clouds your judgment. Makes you do dumb things like get married to someone you’ve only known a month.”

“But what if this woman makes your friend truly happy?”

“She doesn’t. He just thinks she does.”

“How do you know that for sure?”

“Look, I don’t have time to stand around here dissecting it to death. My best buddy is about to make the biggest mistake of his life. I have to leave immediately for Key West to save him from himself.”

“You can’t tell him this over the telephone?”

“He hung up on me.” Gibb sounded highly offended. “And when I tried to call him back, he wouldn’t answer and he’s disabled his voicemail.”

“I can see why. Clearly, you are overreacting.”

He held up both palms. “Look, I don’t need your opinion. I just need your flying expertise. How much would you charge to fly me to Key West right now?”

Sophia cast a glance over her shoulder at El Diablo. She’d never flown any farther than Belize. “My plane is not equipped to fly such a long distance. It’s over fifteen hundred kilometers to Key West.”

He waved a hand. “You can do it. I’ve watched you fly passengers in and out for the last two weeks. You’re an excellent pilot.”

He had been watching her? Sophia’s cheeks warmed. His flattery was dangerous. Damn this desire to show off her piloting skills and prove him right. “Thank you very much for the compliment, but the gas tanks on a plane this size only hold so much fuel. We would have to stop to refuel.”

“So we stop. Let’s go.” He opened the pilot’s door of the plane and motioned for her to hop in.

She stepped over to shut the door. “You are a very annoying man.”

“How much?” He took out his wallet, started pulling out several one-hundred-dollar bills. “Two thousand do it?”

Sophia blinked. Two thousand dollars? That would pay off her debt from mechanic school. “You will pay for the fuel, as well?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“You are a desperate man.”

“Yes, yes, I am. I’m also a rich one and I always get what I want.”

“Not this time.” Sophia folded her arms over her chest. “On top of everything else, there is a tropical depression brewing in the Caribbean.”

“It could easily go way north of Florida.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“When is it expected to hit landfall?”

She shrugged. “Weather is unpredictable, two days, maybe.”

“Two days?” he blurted. “We will be in Key West long before that.”

“The storm could hit sooner,” she said, arguing with herself as much as with him.

“Or later.”

“True.”

“It might even dissipate altogether.”

“I am not in the habit of gambling with the lives of my passengers.”

“Look,” he said. “You can check the weather along the way, if the storm moves faster than expected I’ll admit defeat and take it as a sign that Scott and Jackie are meant to be.”

“Can you accept that?”

“You’re the pilot. Once we’re in the air, you’re in control of that plane.”

Hmm, interesting admission for someone who seemed to be something of a control freak. Could she trust him to keep his word? “It’s not as simple as jumping into the plane and taking off. I’ll have to make a flight plan, get permission to fly into the airspace of the other countries along the way.”

He had run out of cash, but he was now tugging out a plethora of credit cards. “Three thousand.”

Sophia moistened her lips. How high was he willing to go?

Lunacy. It was sheer lunacy to even consider flying him to Florida, but the part of her that loved a challenge wanted to give it a go. See if she could do it. If nothing else, she would learn what she and El Diablo were really made of.

Priorities, Sophia .

It was a lesson her mother had repeated to her often. She did have a tendency to put adventure ahead of responsibility. Besides, she was supposed to go over to Emilio’s house for a cookout tonight. In fact, this was the night she’d decided to have “the talk” with him. Then again, what would it hurt to delay breaking bad news?

“Mr. Martin, I will happily fly you to Libera with my current passengers and there you can catch the next plane to Florida,” she offered.

He looked uneasy. “That solution doesn’t work for me.”

“Why not?” Puzzled, she canted her head, studied him intently.

“I do not have to explain myself to you.”

“You don’t have your own jet? A rich man like you?”

“I do have my own jet, but that’s none of your business.”