too long without a woman in his bed. But now was not the time to be thinking of such a thing.
Marly was the pilot, nothing more.
“Buckle up, buttercup,” Marly said, fastening her safety straps. Over her shoulder, she told the others, “As you all well know, this isn’t your usual jetliner flight. I’ll be your pilot, or rather, copilot—with Pitbull’s assistance—and flight attendant. Please fasten your seat belts and keep them fastened until we land. There will be no beverages served on this flight, and there is no lavatory.” She gave the guys in the back a wicked grin. “If you should need to relieve yourself...hold it until we make our refueling stop halfway there.”
“Well, damn,” Buck complained. “I wanted a beer.”
T-Mac followed with, “And I was really looking forward to the peanuts.”
Big Jake waved a dismissive hand. “Ignore the whiners. We’re all set. Let ’er rip.”
“And by ‘let ’er rip,’ he means make a smooth takeoff and an even smoother landing,” Pitbull mumbled.
“I heard that.” Marly’s pretty pink lips twisted. She slapped a headset against his chest. “Wear these so you know what’s going on.”
He slipped the headset over his ears and plugged the wires into the communications ports. “Do I want to know what’s going on?”
She leaned back and gave him an assessing stare. “Pitbull, are you telling me you’re afraid of a little ol’ plane ride?” Her brows rose into the hair swooping down over her brow.
Buck leaned forward. “Bingo! Give the lady a prize.”
Marly shook her head. “You have nothing to worry about. I have over three thousand hours flying this plane alone, and more in other types of aircraft. I started flying at thirteen, over fifteen years ago. I think I can handle it.” She checked the instrument panel, flicked several switches and started the engine.
As the propeller spun into action, Pitbull’s gut clenched.
“Relax. We’ll be there before you know it,” Marly said into the mic.
Her voice filled the earphones of his headset, reassuring Pitbull when he needed it most.
Marly spoke to the nearby air traffic controller, got her instructions and started the plane taxiing toward the runway. “With all you go through as a navy SEAL, I can’t believe you’re afraid of flying.”
“I’m not afraid of flying,” Pitbull said through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into the armrest at his side. “I’m afraid of crashing.”
“But you fly in helicopters all the time,” Marly reasoned, pushing the throttle forward. The aircraft gained speed as it barreled down the runway.
“I do it as part of the job.” Pitbull tensed, praying the runway was long enough. “And helicopters don’t eat up thousands of feet of runway to take off.”
Still grinning, Marly kept her gaze on the runway ahead. “Yeah, but when the propeller stops, helicopters drop like a rock to the earth. Airplanes, on the other hand, can glide for miles.” Just as they neared the end of the runway, the plane left the ground, the wings seesawing slightly as they lifted the craft into the air.
Pitbull leaned back, willing the plane to continue its climb. “Planes can glide for miles, but they still need thousands of feet of runway to land. Helicopters don’t. Besides, I’m used to flying in helicopters, not planes.”
Her hands steady on the yoke, Marly handled the aircraft like the expert she was. “Stick with me and I’ll have you singing a different tune.”
Pitbull shot a glance her way, his groin tightening despite the knot in his gut. He’d like to stick with Marly long enough to get to know her lithe body and the taste of her pink lips. The woman was sexy when she was all into her element of flying.
Pitbull wished he could enjoy the view more. And he might if he could relax, like she said, and enjoy the ride. But this wasn’t Pitbull’s preferred method of transport. It would take a whole lot more time in the craft for him to get even remotely comfortable. In the meantime, he’d suffer through, for the sake of the team.
* * *
MARLY ALMOST FELT sorry for Pitbull. Once she was over five hundred feet in the air, she shot a glance his way.
The man was as tense as a drawn bowstring. His knuckles were white where they curled around the armrest, and he stared through the front windshield unblinkingly.
She couldn’t talk him down from his panic. She’d already tried. The best she could do was to land the plane safely and smoothly.
Marly had to admit Pitbull had been the one to catch her eye among the navy SEAL team members. His hard-packed body, square jaw and intense expression made her heart flutter, an occurrence she hadn’t experienced in her twenty-nine years. Until she’d met the SEAL team and Pitbull.
Knowing he had a deep fear of fixed-wing aircraft didn’t diminish his attraction in the least. It actually increased it in Marly’s eyes. It proved he wasn’t perfect, like she’d originally thought. After her first encounter with the team, she’d read up on the elite units of navy SEALs and what it took to become one. And wow! This man sitting beside her had braved some of the worst conditions and treatment, muscled through and had become one of America’s best.
From what she’d learned from others among the team, they’d deployed multiple times to the Middle East, Africa and other places around the world on deadly missions. Pitbull couldn’t be afraid of much, if he strode headlong into danger.
Marly had waded into dangerous situations on more than one occasion and been scared she wouldn’t emerge alive. But somehow, she had. Many times she’d considered moving back to the States and setting up a charter service there, but her mother still worked in the small villages of Africa, helping serve the poor and sick. Until her mother left Africa, she figured she might as well stay. Marly didn’t have friends or family in Virginia, where she was born. Why go back?
She glanced over at the man in the seat beside her. Perhaps if she had someone to go home to...
Not that Pitbull was that someone. Marly had grown up independent, running wild in the villages where her mother and father had worked. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle a full-time relationship. Freedom was everything to her.
And sometimes, with that freedom came loneliness.
Time passed. Marly made the scheduled stop to refuel at a small airfield halfway to their destination in northern Kenya. Her landing was so soft, she could have been kissing the ground. It didn’t matter—Pitbull had a death grip on the armrest anyway.
The men clambered out, made their visit to the latrine and hurried back as the attendant completed the refueling. Pitbull offered to let someone else sit in the copilot’s seat, but there were no takers.
Marly hid a smile. She didn’t want someone else riding shotgun. She liked the view inside the cockpit.
Her takeoff was a little less graceful as she hit a couple pockets of air that tipped the wings slightly, making the plane wobble on the ascent. Marly sighed. She couldn’t win every time.
