“I know! Everyone deserves their dream, honey, and I know yours is Paris. So when I win Mother Of The Year-which, of course, I will, as I’ve done a fabulous job with you, if I say so myself-I want you to come with me!”

The sun felt good on Kylie’s face. If only she could stand here all day instead of going inside and facing the chaos. “Mom, if I wanted a trip to Paris, I’d go.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Because ever since your father died you’ve taken it upon yourself to run this place just because it was his dream.”

It was Kylie’s dream, too, to kept the airport afloat, to see it prosper.

All she needed was a miracle.

Both she and her dad were practical, single-minded, goal-oriented, orderly, sane people, who had shared this weakness for the impractical, chaotic, unorderly, bankruptcy-bound airport. Maybe because in the air, they found true freedom, or because there was just something about walking through a hangar full of planes knowing you could hop in one and be anywhere you wanted to be. Whatever the reason, the airport had been her dad’s one passion, and she’d inherited both his love for the place…and the debts.

“You know, if you’d only get married, you’d feel more relaxed. Grandma said a nice boy just moved in across-”

“No,” Kylie said quickly. Relationships didn’t work for her. She only had room in her life for one problem area-the airport. Everything else had to be, well, easily managed, practical.

Men were not easily managed or practical, not for her.

Her mother and grandma shared the opposite approach. Men were like candy, to be gobbled up. They often tried to impose this lifestyle on the reluctant Kylie in the form of blind dates from hell. “I don’t need a date,” she reiterated.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I-” She broke off, refusing to argue with the one woman no one on the planet could win an argument with. “So there isn’t an emergency up there?”

“You work too hard, Kylie. You care too much, you give too much. You need to get something back, and this trip-”

“Mom. Is there an emergency up there?”

“Of course there is. I told you, I need aspirin!”

“Okay, fine. I’ll be there as soon as I put out the fire in dispatch, deal with Grandma, and-”

“There’s a fire in dispatch? Why didn’t you say so? I’ll call 9-1-1.”

“No!” Kylie lowered her voice with effort. “Don’t call 9-1-1, I have it covered.”

“Well, if you’re sure, honey.”

“I’m sure. Gotta go, Mom. Don’t call 9-1-1. I repeat, don’t call 9-1-1.”

“You don’t have to shout, Kylie Ann.”

She could feel her blood pressure rising. “You know what, Mom? Take the whole afternoon off. On me.”

“Oh, honey, really?”

“Really-” She hadn’t finished the word before her mother disconnected. Picturing her mother racing for the door, and bulldozing over clients in her hurry to get out, Kylie managed not to thunk her head against the wall again.


BY LATE THAT NIGHT Kylie had handled each and every crisis, including dealing with the fire department, who’d come roaring out, sirens and lights flashing, due to her mother’s call.

Because of course she’d called 9-1-1 before heading out.

But for now, everything was good. She was head-deep into the engine compartment of a Cessna, with good old-fashioned rock music cranked up to head-banging volume on the radio, singing to her heart’s delight as she worked. The airport was empty, shut down for the night, and she was in her favorite state.

Alone.

Yes, maybe she’d rather be in Paris, but this wasn’t so bad either. She stood in her airport-thank you, Dad-surrounded by her favorite things…airplanes. Airplanes couldn’t talk back, couldn’t screw up the bank account, couldn’t leave early to get their nails done and their hair bleached.

She felt lucky, even with the debt weighing her down. After college she’d worked at other private airports to gain experience, always knowing she’d end up back here. She’d just never imagined she’d be here without her father, the only man to ever really understand her.

Wearing overalls stained with grease, her old clunky work boots and a backwards baseball cap on her short mop of dark hair, she felt perfectly content. Even-get out the record books-relaxed.

“Hey, babe.”

And just like that, with those two simple words uttered in that unbearably familiar, husky and, damn it, sexy voice, she shot from content to tense in a heartbeat.

McKinnon.

Peace shattered, an automatic snarl appeared on her mouth. “What do you want?” she asked without turning around.

“Hmm. That’s quite a question.”

A tall, dark shadow fell over her, but she didn’t need to turn her head to see the long, leanly muscled form of Wade McKinnon, owner of McKinnon Charters, not when that very form was seared on her brain from what she had aptly named The Unfortunate Incident.

The Unfortunate Incident had occurred last New Year’s Eve, at their annual airport bash where all the employees used the holidays as an excuse to party hard and work little. Her mother, ever so helpful, had spiked the punch, which, Kylie told herself, was the one and only reason she’d been caught beneath the mistletoe by Wade in the first place. Technically, he wasn’t even an employee, he merely leased space for his operation. But she’d been caught.

Caught and kissed.

That the kissing had been instigated by her in a vodka-induced giggly haze really burned her butt, but Wade had done his fair share of the kissing that night, too, and he’d been damn good at it.

The jerk.

She’d kissed experienced guys before, and had occasionally followed her hormones. Okay, twice. She’d followed her hormones twice. That’s how she knew they happened to be in perfectly fine working order.

They seemed to be exceptional in this man’s presence.

“What do I want…” Stepping closer into the meager light of her single hanging bulb in the nearly empty hangar, Wade stroked his jaw thoughtfully.

Against her will, the sound of his fingers against the day-old growth of beard made her knees wobble. Damn it, he looked mouthwatering, with his dark hair cut pilot-short, his tanned, rugged face with the laugh lines fanning out from his deep blue eyes.

The face of a fallen angel, her grandmother had said on the day he’d shown up with a signed lease and a crooked, wicked smile.

The “angel” flashed that smile now. “You know what I want, Kylie. Same thing I’ve always wanted.”

Her stomach quivered, which she ignored. He wore black jeans, a black shirt shoved up past his forearms, and was quite possibly the sexiest man on the planet, while she was covered in grease and overalls, had her hair stuffed beneath a hat and didn’t have an ounce of makeup on. His “interest” was laughable, but that was okay. She knew what he meant when he said he wanted her.

He wanted her airport, and in the year that they’d known each other, he’d made her three official offers, two of which she turned down flat. The last one, made the week before, was such a good one she’d nearly passed out. That offer would solve her every problem. It’d fix the debts her father had wracked up before dying while testing an untried, handmade aircraft. It’d solve the problem of feeding and caring for her mother and grandmother, something her father had always told her would fall to her if something happened to him.

And it’d solve the whole Paris fantasy, as she’d be able to go. And maybe never come back.

“You agreed to give me two weeks to think about it.”

“I’ll give you your two weeks.” He cocked his head, his sharp eyes missing nothing. “Working again? Or should I say still?”

“Smith wants his plane first thing in the morning. Since you know damn well I can’t afford Doogie’s double-time pay, here I am.” Her head mechanic was expensive, but good. But she was even better, and far cheaper.

“You’re going to kill yourself with your pace, Kylie,” Wade said softly.

Why was it that whenever he said her name it felt like a caress? Probably because she hadn’t had sex in this millennium. “Don’t you have your own life to worry about?”

“Yep.” Another flash of the grin that could, and did, melt bones. “Heading out to Doogie’s birthday bash as a matter of fact.”

She turned back to the plane. Doogie had a fondness for airplanes, parties and girls. In that order. There’d probably be girls jumping out of his cake.

Looking as good as Wade did, she had no doubt he’d be fighting them off by the end of the night. They’d be falling at his feet by the dozen.

“So come with me,” came that sensuous voice right in her ear. “Protect me.”

Ah, hell, she’d spoken out loud. Jerking upright, she smacked the top of her head on the engine. Stars exploded in her head and she ground her back teeth. “I don’t really care what you do, or who you do it with.”

“Really?” He stroked a finger over the tender bump on her head. “Then why are you bringing it up?”

Right. Why was she bringing it up? Oh, yeah. Because she was an idiot.

“Come on, Kylie. Come with me to the party.”

His eyes were deep, and the most unusual shade of deep blue. When he looked at her, her body wanted to say yes to him, yes to everything, especially if it involved an orgasm. “No,” she said, listening to her head; and buried herself back into the engine compartment. Men were not her thing, she reminded herself. She had enough trouble in her life at the moment. “Go away.”

“Such sweet talk.” He sighed, a frustrated sound. “Good night, Kylie. I’d say don’t work too hard, but you would just to be difficult.”

She waited until the sound of his footsteps faded away to let out a shaky breath. She’d done them both a favor, he just didn’t know it, that’s all. She wasn’t a girly girl. Pretty hairdos and fancy clothes and all stuff female was one big collective mystery.