when Mel found him.
She was wearing her coveralls again, unbuttoned, the arms off and tied around her waist, exposing a black tank top and a pretty pink bra strap peeking out on each shoulder. So apparently, beneath all the tough swagger and talk there was a girlie girl in there somewhere. In another time and place Bo might have tried to draw that woman out, but he was frustrated and tired, and blamed a good part of that—fair or not—on the woman staring at him.
“I’m leaving for the night,” she said evenly. “And so are you.”
“What, you don’t trust me in here? Shock.” And because he’d noticed that she didn’t like it, he shifted closer.
He had to hand it to her. She remained cool, except for the slight widening of her pupils, which even she couldn’t control.
Or the hardening of her nipples.
Yeah, now that reaction he really liked.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Stay the night for all I care, I have nothing to hide.”
“Now, see,” he murmured, running a finger over the strong line of her jaw, her skin smooth and softer than he expected, “that I doubt.”
She smacked his hand away, but not before he saw the leap in the pulse at the base of her neck.
Fascinating. Suddenly all those answers he wanted included something new—knowing more about her.
“I called my attorney about the deed,” she said. “Greg’s going to check it out.”
“Good.” He considered her. “So do you always live and breathe your work, Mel? Or is there more to you than the job? You’ve never done anything else, right?”
“What else should I be doing?”
“I don’t know. Have you looked in the mirror? Hell, you could get a job just standing there and smiling.”
She scoffed at that idea. “Don’t tell me you’re so sexist that you think I’d be better suited for modeling than flying.”
He was quiet a moment as the picture of her modeling—maybe modeling absolutely nothing but her birthday suit—took root. “Shit,” he finally said a little gruffly, realizing she’d said something that he’d missed. “That picture pretty much took over my brain for a sec, sorry.”
“You are disgustingly male.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’m so not doing this.” She stalked toward the door.
“Ah, don’t go away mad.” Just go away. But he couldn’t help the curiosity. All he’d ever seen of her had been here at North Beach. “What do you do when you’re not flying? Or thinking about flying? You all work and no play, Mel?”
She pulled open the door.
“Okaaaaaay, I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, mouth quirking as she threw a universal sign involving only her middle finger over her shoulder.
“Your momma know you do that?” he called after her.
“My momma taught me.”
He laughed, but arched a brow when she whirled back on him. “And what about your momma?” she demanded. “She know her son is the son of a con man?”
“My momma taught me,” he said softly, echoing her words. But whether Mel had meant it or not, Bo certainly did. His mother had taught him—she’d taught him to be quick on his feet so as to dodge the back of her hand, or whatever she had handy.
Mel stared at the door, then turned back. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just tired.” She blew out a breath. “And maybe irritable.”
He felt his mouth twitch. “Maybe?”
Her hands went to her hips. “Trying to meet you halfway here, Black.” She had delicate purple smudges beneath her eyes, he realized, and her shoulders seemed to carry the weight of her world.
“Go home,” he said, tired of the both of them. “We can go at this again tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Night.”
“G’day, Mel.”
She left, muttering something he couldn’t quite catch, something about his accent not being nearly as charming as everyone seemed to think. He followed more slowly, taking his time, his gaze searching the hangar thoroughly as he moved.
Because he couldn’t stop wondering.
Where would Sally have hidden a plane? And then there was the money. Had she spent it? No way had she put it in a bank to wave a red flag to the government about her conning.
Nope, she’d stashed both. Here? He just had a feeling…or maybe that was the itch between his shoulder blades telling him he was being lied to.
Above him, the lights shifted to low. Not exactly subtle, his Mel. Apparently he was to leave now, too. He made his way back to the main hangar, just as the lights there lowered as well. Squinting through the now darkened lobby, he saw two shadows making their way to the front desk.
“I’m worried about her, she works too hard.” The soft, Southern accent was Charlene’s.
“She’s fine, she thrives on stress, our Mel,” Al answered.
“Well, I don’t.”
“Oh, I know that, baby.” At the door now, Al stopped to nuzzle at his wife’s neck, making her giggle. “I have just the thing to help you unwind.”
“Oh, no you don’t. I tried to get a little at lunch, and you were too into your silly football game on the radio. You told me to hush.”
“It was baseball, and all I said was please, whenever possible, talk during the commercials.”
Char huffed but Al was persistent, and she ended up angling her head to give him better access. “Is there a game on tonight?” she drawled a little breathlessly.
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, then what are you waiting for? Take me home, big guy.”
The front door shut on Al’s soft laugh.
Bo moved through the dark lobby, stopping at the sight of another shadow directly across from him.
“Looking for something?” Mel asked in that low, slightly husky voice that always, however inappropriately, brought to mind hot sex.
“You know I am.”
“But I still don’t know what.”
“Sally,” he said. “I’m looking for Sally.”
“She’s—”
“Not here. I know. Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
