Sam’s preoccupation lifted when he noticed where her son was staring. “Have you ever seen a plane up close before?” he asked the silent child.
Solemnly, Andy shook his head to indicate that he hadn’t.
“Then, you’ve never been inside a plane before, either?”
Without a blink, the little boy shook his head once more.
“Do you want to sit inside this one?”
The awe in Andy’s expression moved into his voice. “Inside it? Can I? Really?”
“Promise not to touch anything?”
Andy nodded so fast that his bangs bobbed.
“Wait a minute.” T.J.’s wary glance darted past the open cockpit door to the complex array of gauges and gadgets on the control panel. “Is it safe for him to be in there?”
Looking intimately familiar with the workings of a worried mother’s mind, Sam paused. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if it weren’t,” he replied, reasonably. “Would you rather he didn’t?”
Andy’s eyes beseeched her. Eyes of startling blue met hers with calm patience.
“If you’re sure he’ll be okay…”
“I’m sure.” He arched one eyebrow. “Do you want to let go of his hand?”
Andy nodded, his expression still pleading. “You can come, too, Mom.”
At her son’s encouragement, she finally let go. She always kept a close eye on her son. Especially in unfamiliar places. That was why she was right behind them when Sam swung her child up in one arm, carried him to the plane and plopped him onto the pilot’s seat.
“Here you go,” he said to Andy. “You can sit in here while your mom and I talk. That’s the throttle and this is what steers the plane. And this,” he said, digging something out from the utility box by the seat, “is a Game Boy. Do you know how to work it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good. Then you can play with that. Hands off everything else. Okay?”
“’Kay,” Andy murmured, obligingly. His nose wrinkled. “What’s a throttle?”
“It’s like the gas pedal in a car,” T.J. replied from behind Sam’s broad back.
“Oh.”
“Look,” she murmured, touching Sam’s arm to get his attention. The muscle beneath the soft khaki felt every bit as hard as she’d imagined. “You’re sure he’s okay in there?” she asked, feeling that heat move into her palm.
He turned, causing her hand to fall, then forced her to back up as he stepped toward her. “I’m positive. Even if he does touch something, it might mess up an instrument, but it won’t hurt him.” His big body towered over hers as he nodded toward the exposed engine. Its cowling lay on the ground. “You don’t have to worry about him starting it up, either,” he murmured, sounding as if he knew she was thinking just that. “I have the key, and the fuel line is disconnected.”
He was crowding her, though she didn’t think he was doing it on purpose. There was just nowhere else for him to go with the door open, the plane at his back and her blocking his path from the front.
Jerking her focus from his firm mouth to his wide chest, she curled her fingers over the odd heat lingering in her hand and backed to the middle of the long high wing.
“You’ve been reading.” He offered the observation as he followed her, obviously referring to her response about the throttle. “Did you get the chapters finished?”
Nothing about him made her think he was at all affected by her proximity. Uneasily aware that she was not unaffected by his, she thought about the book she carried and willed herself to relax.
“Some of them. Most of them,” she corrected, her glance automatically seeking her son.
She had been more anxious than usual about her little boy over the past couple of days. Every time she lost sight of him, which was never for more than a few moments, a bubble of panic rose in her chest, pumping adrenaline into her veins, making her heart lurch. But she could easily see Andy holding the Game Boy in a death grip as he stared, enthralled, at the complex instruments.
He was fine. Sam had even assured her that he was safe.
For the moment, with Sam there, she realized that Andy truly was.
The knot that had formed in her stomach yesterday morning actually began to loosen. Grateful for the respite, only now realizing how tense she had been, she pulled the book from her big denim bag and held it out with both hands. “I’m afraid I won’t be needing lessons, though. Thank you, anyway.”
The weathered creases in his forehead deepened as he reached for the bulky volume. Confusion colored his tone. “What changed your mind?”
“That book, for one thing. I had no idea until I started reading it how complicated it all would be. Even if you could teach me how to get a plane off the ground, I can’t afford the money or the time it would it take for real lessons and to get a license. Doc Jackson will be leaving in a couple of weeks. It would be a couple of years before I could fly a plane on my own.”
“It wouldn’t take that long.”
“It would for me. I wouldn’t want to leave Andy all those hours, either.” She didn’t want to leave him at all. “It’s like you with your children,” she explained, because there was no need to tell him why she didn’t want her child out of her sight. “You said you hated leaving them any more than you already have to. I feel the same way about Andy.
“I’ll still watch Jason and Jenny,” she hurried to assure him, “but I’ll have to find some other way to get veterinary care.”
Ratchets and wrenches rattled as Sam set the book atop the chest-high portable toolbox under the tip of the wing. The entire time she’d been backing down from flying lessons, he’d been waiting for her to back down from watching his kids. He’d felt it coming as surely as sunset over the Pacific. Since she had just unexpectedly eliminated that worry, he now was simply feeling mystified.
He had already told himself he didn’t have to understand this woman to work with her. He’d even expected her to throw him off guard. After all, it wasn’t every day a man encountered a woman who informed him out of the blue that she wasn’t going to sleep with him. Or who practically begged him to teach her to fly so she could rescue the local wildlife.
He’d been unwillingly impressed by that desire, too. Though he’d never considered himself particularly jaded, he had to admit there really wasn’t much that did impress him anymore.
He also had to admit that the idea of sex with her had crept into his thoughts with disquieting regularity.
The phenomenon was nothing more than a power-of-suggestion thing. He wouldn’t have thought of it if she hadn’t put the idea in his head. He felt certain of that. But thoughts of how soft her skin would feel, of burying his fingers in the wild tangle of her hair,
