rose to place it on the coffee counter. She looked to the man as she picked up her suitcase. “You do this a lot? Do you work on one of the islands?”
Another smile, one that gave him a dimple. “I do.”
Jackie broke in. “He’s your pilot, dear.”
“Oooh.” Leigh offered a dopey grin. “Sorry. I thought you were a passenger.”
“Only if you feel like doing the flying. In which case I’ll happily take a nap.”
She laughed. “No, no, you do the flying.”
“Okay then.” He gave Jackie a salute and headed for the rear door, Leigh following him into the sunshine.
“You’re American,” she said.
“Guilty.”
“Where are you from?”
“In some former life I recall living in New York City.” If he’d ever had a jarring city accent it was gone now, and his voice matched his looks. He was easy on both the eyes and ears.
“Wow. You’ve made quite a lifestyle change.”
He stopped short a few paces from the building and turned, crossing his arms over his chest, seeming suddenly taller. “Before I let you board, we have a little issue to clear up.”
Apprehension tightened her middle. “Oh?”
“You’ve put me in a tricky spot.”
“Did I? I’m paying for both tickets.”
He shook his head, his smile more mischievous than warm, shifting all the flattering assumptions she’d too hastily made about him. “Your mother left about ten messages demanding I don’t take you off this island.”
Leigh frowned, feeling a touch of panic.
He leaned closer. “Bit of an awkward position for me. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”
Her attention jumped everywhere, from his face to the plane to the water. “Can I bribe you?”
He straightened, expression brightening. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”
She rifled through her purse, hiding her irritation. “A hundred?”
He accepted the colorful Barbadian bill and pocketed it.
Leigh released a breath, as relieved as she was annoyed. Her shopping trip had taught her that prices here were highly negotiable, a bit of island culture she might need to get savvier at, lest the locals fleece her at every opportunity. This latest swindle set her back about fifty American dollars, but no price was too high, not in exchange for getting her where she needed to be.
“So we can go?”
“We can.” He led her down the long aluminum dock. The plane was small, its bottom half painted a cheerful aqua, top half gleaming white and emblazoned with the name The Passport.
Leigh’s unscrupulous pilot looked over his shoulder. “The rumor mill at the resort said this is your honeymoon.”
“It is.”
“Think you may have forgotten to pack your husband. Or did he get misplaced in transit?”
She smiled to cover the pang she felt. “Change of plans.”
WHEN THEY REACHED the plane, Will took Leigh’s bag and stowed it in the cabin. She traveled light, for a celebrity. He pictured her faceless fiancé back in L.A., sitting on a bed beside a pile of clothes and swimsuits that also hadn’t made the cut. Poor bastard.
Will hopped back down to the dock. “Just you and me, so you have a choice—sit back here or play copilot.”
“Which is better?”
“Tough to beat the view in the cockpit.”
Tough to beat a chance to have her as his captive audience, as well. He might not get many chances like this again, and he was secretly pleased when she said, “Okay. Sure.”
He secured the cabin and she followed him to the front, fumbling her way up the short ladder that connected the float to the cockpit. She settled into the far seat, taking in the console and instruments. When Will buckled himself in and donned sunglasses, she followed suit. She squinted at his license, displayed in a plastic frame mounted above the windshield.
“William Burgess.”
“Captain William Burgess,” he corrected officiously. “But Will is fine.”
“Leigh Bailey.”
He offered his finest pilot’s handshake, decisive and confident, qualities a person ought to value in a man charged with transporting her across sea and sky.
As Will prepped for takeoff, Leigh reached out to touch the panel of a gauge on the console. Scowling, he snatched her hand away and set it firmly on her knee.
“Don’t get handsy,” he said, pulling a cloth from a compartment and buffing away whatever fingerprints Leigh may have left on the glass. He might not dress like a captain, but this plane was more than his meal ticket—it was his baby. And he didn’t let strangers poke and prod and leave smudges on his baby.
Leigh frowned, looking annoyed. “Sorry.”
After a brief safety spiel, Will started The Passport, and soon enough the beaches of Barbados were slipping by from several hundred feet up. He wondered what she was thinking, given her intent gaze. Maybe the same things he always did—all that sand, all that water. All this, all to herself.
He spoke over the drone of the engine. “You didn’t need to bribe me, you know.”
She frowned again.
“It’s your name on the ticket. Doesn’t bother me if your old lady’s got her panties in a twist about what you’re up to.” He flashed her a grin, one that made her cheeks flush from discomfort, he guessed. “Want your money back?”
“Nah. You earned it.” Her casual tone was a put-on, Will could tell.
“Must be nice to be able to take or leave a hundred bucks.”
“I suppose.”
“Nice to be able to take or leave a husband.” It was a mean jab, he knew, but bound to earn him a response, a bit of information about his passenger. Maybe a sound slap, had he not been operating a plane. “So which did you do?” Will prompted. “Take him or leave him?”
“I left him,” she said coolly.
“Good for you. Hope you’ve got a lovely settlement coming to you.” An even lower blow, but Will had accepted a generous offer to collect information on this woman, and he didn’t like the thought of tweezing it out with some sympathetic, smooth-talker act. He’d goad it out of her. At least that way he wouldn’t be exploiting some false confidence.
