Play with Me

Better cold and heartless than a lying, manipulative psycho. But it was also better to stay alone than to risk getting tangled up with another one.

So her Korean vibrator it was.

Some people were meant for commitment, family, all that stuff. Some, like her uncle Frank, weren’t. Amanda was just like him; everybody said so. Including Uncle Frank.

“You’d better go. Your passenger should be there soon.”

“Yeah. I definitely need to change my clothes before some groovy, foxy guy asks me if I want to go get high and make love not war at the peace rally,” Amanda replied.

“Please don’t on my account.”

That hadn’t come from Ginny.

Amanda froze, the phone against her face. It took a second to process, but her brain finally caught up with her ears and she realized she had indeed heard a strange voice.

It had been male. Deep, husky. And close.

“I gotta go,” she muttered into the phone, sliding it closed before Ginny could respond.

Then she shifted her eyes, spying a pair of men’s shoes not two feet from where she stood in the shadow of the Lear. Inside those shoes was a man wearing dark gray pants. Wearing them nicely, she had to acknowledge when she lifted her gaze and saw the long legs, the lean hips, the flat stomach.

Damn, he was well-made. Her throat tightened, her mouth going dry. She forced herself to swallow and kept on looking.

White dress shirt, unbuttoned at the strong throat. Thick arms flexing against the fabric that confined them. Broad shoulders, one of which was draped with a slung-over suit jacket that hung loosely from his masculine fingers.

Then the face. Oh, what a face. Square-jawed, hollow-cheeked. His brow was high, his golden-brown hair blown back by the light autumn breeze tunneling beneath the plane. And he had an unbelievably great mouth curved into a smile. A wide one that hinted at unspilled laughter lurking behind those sensual lips. She suspected that behind his dark sunglasses, his eyes were laughing, too.

Laughing at her.

Wonderful. One of the most handsome men she had ever seen in her entire life had just heard her muttering about groovy dudes and free love. All while she looked like Marcia Brady before a big cheerleading tryout.

“Guess I should have worn my bell-bottoms and tie-dyed, peace-sign shirt,” he said.

She feigned a disapproving frown. “Your hair’s much too short, and not nearly stringy enough.” Tsking, she added, “And no mustache?”

The sexy smile was companion to a sexy laugh. Double trouble, either way you sliced it. “I hate to admit it, but I’m not a Bob Dylan fan, either. I guess I really can’t turn on, tune in and drop out.”

“What a drag! If you say you can’t play ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ on the guitar, I’m afraid I’m going to have to shove you into the engines of that 747 over there.”

He held both hands up, palms out. “Peace! I really do dig the threads, sister,” he said. “They’re pretty groovalicious.”

“Ooh, how very Austin Powers of you.”

Wincing as if she’d hit him, he muttered, “Do chicks really go for dudes with bear pelts on their chests?”

“Not this one,” she admitted with a laugh, liking this stranger already, despite her initial embarrassment. “Obviously, if you own a calendar, you know today’s Halloween.”

“Yeah, I heard that somewhere. That could explain why I passed a group of Hannah Montanas and Sponge-Bobs walking down the street on my way here.”

“I don’t know whether to be more sad that kids have to trick-or-treat in the daytime, or that you know who Hannah Montana and SpongeBob are.”

“Nieces and nephews,” he explained.

The affectionate way he said the words made her suspect he liked kids, which usually indicated a good nature. One point for the hot guy.

Correction, one more point for the hot guy. He’d already scored about a million for being so damned hot.

She also noted that he’d said nieces and nephews … not kids of his own. Single?

He glanced around at the other small planes nearby, and the few airport employees scurrying around doing the luggage-shuffle waltz. “So, nobody else got the invite to the costume party?”

Just her. Wasn’t she the lucky one? “I was supposed to be picking up a regular passenger and she made me promise to dress up. This is definitely not my usual workplace attire.”

“Rats. Here I was thinking I’d suddenly been let in the super-secret club. The true reason charter flights are so popular. You’re saying it really is just to miss the long lines at security, and have some travel flexibility? It’s not the hot pants and go-go boots?”

She shook her head. “‘Fraid not. But don’t forget, you also get to drink more than a half-cup of warm Coke and eat more than four pretzels.”

“Well, okay then, we’re on.”

Amanda suddenly sighed, acknowledging what she’d managed to overlook. For just a minute or two, she had been able to convince herself that some sexy, passing stranger had noticed her and come over.

Passing by on a private, secured tarmac? Don’t think so.

He wasn’t some random passerby, she just knew it.

“Oh, hell. You’re my passenger.”

“If you’re headed for Chicago, I think I am.” He stuck out his hand. “Reese Campbell.”

Cursing Mrs. Rush and Halloween and that stupid vintage clothing store on eBay, she put her hand in his. “Amanda Bauer.”

Their first touch brought a flush of warmth, a flash of pleasure that was unexpected and a little surprising. The handshake lasted a second too long, was perhaps a hint more than a casual greeting among strangers. And while the exchange was entirely appropriate, she suddenly found herself thinking of all the touches she hadn’t had for so long, all the inappropriate ways that strong, masculine hand could slide over her body.

Instant lust. It was real. Who knew?

She stared at him, trying to see the eyes behind the sunglasses, wondering if they had darkened with immediate interest the way hers probably had. Wondering what she might do about it if he returned that interest.

Get a grip.

Amanda regretfully tugged her hand away, pushing it down to her side and sliding it over her satin-covered hip. Her fingertips quivered as they brushed against the bare skin of her upper thigh and she suspected her palms were damp.

Forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath, she managed a smile. “Well, thanks for choosing Clear-Blue Air. We …”

“Love to fly, and it shows?”

It took her a second, then she placed the old Delta slogan. Her smile faded. The guy was way too hot to also be quick-witted and flirtatious. She could handle one at a time—it just became a little more distracting when they were all wrapped up in one extremely sexy package.

You can handle him. No sweat. Just stay professional.

Professional. While she was dressed for a love-in with the local beatnik crowd and this guy was both gorgeous and freaking adorable. Right.

“It’ll be a quick trip,” she said, gesturing toward the steps and moving back so he could ascend them ahead of her.

No way was she going in first, not with the length of the damn hot pants. Her cheeks were pretty well covered as long as she remained still. If she walked up the steps with him behind her, however, all bets would be off. He’d get an eyeful, and it wouldn’t be of London, or France. Because the stupid shorts were too form-fitting to wear even the most skimpy of underpants, unless they were ass-flossers, which she didn’t even own.

“Wait,” he said, pausing on the bottom step. “Aren’t you going to say ‘Fly me’ or at least ‘Welcome aboard’?”

She didn’t. The softly muttered word that came out of her mouth was a lot less welcoming. And had fewer letters—four to be precise.

He shook his head and tsked. “Not exactly the friendly skies. Haven’t caught the spirit yet this morning?”

“Make one more airline slogan crack and you’ll be walking to Chicago,” she said.

He nodded once, then pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his tousled hair. The move revealed blue eyes that matched the sky above. And yeah. They were twinkling. Damn it.

“Understood. Just, uh, promise me you’ll say ‘Coffee, tea, or me’ at least once, okay? Please?”

Amanda tried to glare, but that twinkle sucked the annoyance right out of her. Something irrepressible deep inside made her smirk and order, “Stop flirting. Start traveling.”

He immediately got the vague Southwest Airlines reference. “Gotcha.” With a grin, he added, “I’m starting to suspect I’m going to experience something pretty special in the air.”

She groaned. “You do realize you’re a total nerd for knowing all these old slogans.”

The insult bounced right off him. “Nerd, huh?” Then he threw his head back and laughed. Innate good humor flowed off this sexy man who, though dressed like a businessman, wasn’t like anyone she’d ever shuttled before. “Something tells me this is going to be a trip I won’t soon forget,” he said, something warm and knowing appearing in those deep blue eyes.

She could only draw in a slow breath as he climbed into the plane, thinking about that laughter and that twinkle, wondering why both of them made her insides all soft. As she watched her passenger disappear into the small jet, she also had to wonder about the trip she was about to take.

Coffee and tea they had, and he was welcome to them. But her? Well, she’d never even considered making a move on a customer before. Talk about unprofessional. Even the original hound dog himself Uncle Frank would kill her. He swore he never mixed business with pleasure.

And yet, how often was it that she actually met someone new, someone sexy and funny and entertaining? Considering her moratorium on anything that resembled dating, maybe a one-night stand with somebody from out of town, somebody she would never see again, was the perfect way to go.

Something inside her suddenly wanted to take a chance, to be a little outrageous. Maybe it was the playful, dangerous holiday—she’d always loved Halloween. It could have been the fortuitous change in passengers from wild old ladies to supremely sexy young man. Maybe it was the costume. The damned hot pants were hugging her open-and-alert-and-ready-for-business sex, the seam doing indecent things to her suddenly throbbing girl bits.

How long since she had done indecent things—or decent ones, for that matter—with a sexy man? Not since before they’d thrown all their energies into expanding Clear-Blue Air, at least. She hadn’t had time for a lunch date, much less anything like the lust-fests she’d enjoyed in her younger years. The kind that lasted for entire weekends and involved not leaving a bed except to grab some sort of sensuous food that could be smeared onto—and eaten off of—someone else’s hot, naked, sweat-tinged body.

She closed her eyes, her hand clenching tight on the railing. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she tried to make herself move. But she couldn’t—not climbing up, but not backing away, either. Not physically, and not in her head.

Was she really considering this? God, she hadn’t even looked at Reese Campbell’s left hand to make sure he was available. She had no idea if he was actually attracted to her or just an irrepressible flirt. Yet something inside was telling her to take a shot with this complete stranger.

It was crazy, something she’d never considered. Yet right now, at this moment, she was definitely considering it. If he was available … could she do it? Seduce a stranger? Have an anonymous fling with a random man, like something out of a blue movie on late-night cable?

She didn’t know, but it sounded good. Given the current craziness of her life—her work schedule, travel, commitment to her uncle and his company, plus her aversion to anything that even resembled “settling down” as she’d always known it, this whole fling idea sounded damn good.

The trip to Chicago was a short one, so she had to decide quickly. Really, though, she suspected the decision was already made. And as she put her foot on the bottom step and began to climb up, Amanda suddenly had the feeling she was about to embark on the ride of her life.

2

PITTSBURGH TO CHICAGO was a short, easy trip even on a bad day. Fortunately, aside from the fact that he was taking his first flight in a vehicle that didn’t look much bigger than his SUV, today was shaping up to be a very good one. And he wasn’t just thinking about the weather, which was cool, crisp and clear.

As they took off, Reese went over the situation again in his mind. One hour in the air—that was good. For a mere sixty minutes, he could trick his brain into believing he wasn’t really sitting inside an oversize tin can, hurtling across a couple of states.

After that, he faced a short taxi ride to the newest location of a brew-pub chain owned by a wealthy Chicago family, the Braddocks. They had recently agreed to offer Campbell’s Lager as a house beer in a couple of their bars. It was a foot in the door, and Reese hoped to grow the account and get them to expand their order to include every one of their establishments. So he couldn’t refuse when he got a call from old Mr. Braddock himself this morning, asking him to come to put in an appearance at tonight’s opening.

He wouldn’t have to stay long—just had to shake a few hands and say a few thank-yous. He should be in and out in under an hour.

And after that … what?

He had intended to hop a commercial flight back to Pittsburgh tonight. The trip had been too impromptu to fly that way this afternoon, but there was one regional jet leaving at 10:00 p.m. that he could undoubtedly find a seat on. If he wanted to.

But ever since he had walked across the tarmac toward the small private plane and seen the woman standing at the base of the steps, he hadn’t wanted to. Because one look at her and he’d been interested. One word and he’d been intrigued. And one brief conversation and he’d been utterly hooked.

It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. He knew better than to think beauty was ever more than a surface pleasantry. Besides, he was no chauvinist. He had four sisters, three of them unmarried and living at home, the fourth a divorced single mom. Since his brother was only in his early teens, Reese bore the full brunt of female judgment against his sex. The only other adult male in close proximity was Ralph, his black lab, who had lost his claim to maleness at the hands of a ruthless vet when he was just six months old. A female vet.

So, yeah, Reese knew better than to ever judge a woman solely on appearance.

Amanda Bauer’s amazing body, her thick reddish-brown hair that hung past her shoulders and her damn-near-perfect face might have stilled his heart for a moment or two. But her smile, her husky voice, the shininess of her green eyes and the snappy humor had brought about the full stop.

So what are you going to do about it?

He needed to decide. And he now had only about forty-five minutes in which to do it.

In any other situation—if they’d met at a business meeting or a local bar—he might not have considered it. He’d been living in a fishbowl for the past two years, with his every move analyzed and dissected by his family. Bringing a woman into the picture was just inviting the kind of microscopic commentary he did not want.

But this was totally different. His pilot was someone he’d never seen before and, after today, probably would never see again. The thought made him suddenly wonder about the ways in which they could spend that day.

Fortunately, thinking about all those things had distracted him from the whole terrifying takeoff business. They’d chatted while she’d prepared for flight, but since the minute the tires had started rolling down the runway, Reese’s throat had been too tight to push any words out.

He forced himself to swallow. “So, a full-time pilot, huh?” he asked, knowing the question was an inane one. But it was better than the silence that had fallen between them while she’d been occupied getting them up into the air.

It also beat looking out the window at either the ground, which was getting farther away by the minute, or the wing of the plane, which looked far too small to be the only thing keeping him from a twenty-thousand-foot crash back to mother earth.

He looked away.

“Yep.”

“Must be pretty interesting.”

“It beats being a kindergarten teacher, which was what my folks wanted me to do.”

He barked a laugh. Her. A kindergarten teacher. Right. In his mental list of other careers this woman could have, being a sedate, demure teacher wasn’t even in the top gajillion.

Actress. Seductive spy. Rock star. Designer. Sex goddess. Yeah, those he could see. But definitely not teacher.

She glanced back, one brow up, though her tiny smile told him she wasn’t truly offended. Reese sat in the first passenger seat on the opposite side of the cabin and their stares locked for just a moment before she faced forward again. “What? You think I couldn’t be a teacher?”

“Uh-uh.” He quickly held up a defensive hand. “Not that I don’t think you’re smart enough. You just don’t seem the type who’d like working with children.”

She did, however, seem the type to be fabulous at the physical act that led to children. Not that he was going to say that to a woman he’d known for less than an hour.

That’d take two, minimum.

“I’m good with kids, I’ll have you know,” she insisted. “My friends’ and cousins’ kids love me.”

He didn’t doubt it. “Because you bring them cool stuff from your travels and you fly an airplane?”

She shrugged, not denying it. Nor did she turn around, keeping her eyes on the sky ahead of her. Which was good. He much preferred his pilot to be on the lookout for any random high-flying helicopters or low-flying space shuttles.

“I’m not knocking it,” he said. “I’m the king of doling out loud toys to my sister’s kids. I know the gifts will drive her crazy long after I’m gone.”

She laughed, low and long, as if reminiscing at some personal memory. Amanda Bauer’s warm chuckle seemed to ride across the air inside the cabin and brush against him like a soft breeze on a summer day. He could almost feel it.

Reese shifted in his seat, trying to keep focused on small talk and chitchat. Not on how much he wanted to feel her laughter against his lips so he could inhale the very air she breathed.

“Believe it or not, I think I’d have been a hell of a good teacher.”

“Uh-huh. I can hear five-year-old Brittany coming home to tell Mommy she had a hell of a good time learning her ABCs that day.”

She still didn’t turn around. She didn’t have to. Her reaction was made plain by the casual lift of her right hand and the quick flash of her middle finger.

“Hey, both hands on the steering wheel, lady,” he said, his shoulders shaking in amusement. His sexy, private pilot had just flipped him off. Damn, he liked this woman. He took no offense. In fact, he was more grateful than anything else that she had already grown so comfortable with him.

It was strange, since they’d just met, but he felt the same way. Oh, not with the fact that he was in a tiny plane far above the ground … but with her. Like he could say just about anything and it would roll off her back. She had such an easygoing way about her. It went well with the adventurous spirit that put her in the cockpit of a plane wearing go-go boots and booty shorts.

Personally, he had the feeling they were going to get along tremendously. He felt more relaxed with her than he had with anyone—including just himself—in months.

Except for the whole being-in-a-small-plane thing. Which he was trying to forget.

“Okay, I apologize,” he said. “I’m sure you would have been great. But I think any mother with a brain cell in her head would insist her kid be moved out of your class before the father attended his first parent-teacher conference.”

She didn’t respond. But the middle finger didn’t come up, either.

“Now, back to the subject. Your job. I guess you like to fly, huh?”

Before she could answer, the plane rose suddenly, then dropped hard, though not far, just like a kite being lifted and gently tossed by an unexpected gust. “Jesus …”

“Don’t worry, it was just an air pocket. It’s completely normal. In a jet this size, we just feel the turbulence a bit more than you’re used to.”

Why one little pocket of air was any different than the rest of the big, vast atmosphere, he had no idea. He just knew he didn’t like it. “Okay, uh, stay away from those pockets, would you please?”

“Sure,” she said with a snort and, though he couldn’t see it, probably an eye roll. “I’ll just watch for the yellow hazard signs and steer around them.”

“Your empathy would have been a real help in a job teaching young children.”

Instead of being insulted, she snickered, a cute, self-deprecating sound. “Sorry.” Then, though she didn’t turn completely around, her eyes shifted slightly. Enough to catch a glimpse at his probably tense face. “I like flying better than you, I take it?”

“It’s not my favorite thing to do.”

“And I bet it’s even worse when you’re not tucked inside the belly of a huge 747, trying not to catch the mood of all the other nervous flyers who are envisioning the worst?”

“Exactly.”

She nodded once, then offered, “Doesn’t it help to think something smaller would be easier to keep aloft than some big, monstrous commercial airliner? Just like a feather on the breeze?”

“No,” he admitted. “Actually, all I keep thinking about is the whole man/wings thing.”

“Relax. I haven’t crashed in, oh, a good month at least.”

Not appreciating the joke, he stared, his eyes narrowed. “My luck, I get the comedian in hot pants for the pilot.”

“Sorry. Just figured if you laugh a little, you might relax.”

“Say something that’s actually funny and I might.” Though, he doubted it. A tranquilizer or a shot of gin might help him calm down. Or this woman’s hands. Then again, if this woman’s hands ever did land on him, calm almost certainly would not describe his mood.

“Why don’t you try closing your eyes and just pretending you’re somewhere else?”

“Pretend?”

“You know. Fantasize.” Her voice melodic, as if she were a hypnotist, she provided a fantasy. “You’re in a safe, solid car driving up a mountain pass toward a beautiful old hotel.”

“Okay, this isn’t helping. I’m thinking Jack Nicholson heading toward that hotel in The Shining.”

She huffed out a breath. “It’s an exclusive ski lodge, glamorous, not haunted. Around you is nothing but pristine, white snow, blue sky, clear air.”

“Guys with axes …”

“Don’t make me come back there!”

“Okay, okay,” he said with a grimace.

Reese closed his eyes and tried to see it. He really did. But he could conjure up no mountain pass. No car. No ski lodge.

A curvy snow-bunny wearing a fluffy hat, skimpy shorts and skis … that was about as close as he could get.

He sighed. Not necessarily because it was a bad thing, but because the vision was so damn hot, it had him a little dizzy.

“Don’t use your imagination much, I guess. I should have known.”

His eyes flew open. “I have an imagination.”

“Uh-huh. Let me guess, most of the time what you imagine is getting through the next sales meeting or closing some big business deal.”

Reese shifted a little, not answering. Up until he’d walked up to her on the tarmac, that had been pretty accurate. Since then, though, he’d been imagining a few other things. But to tell her she was wrong meant to spill those thoughts, which he wasn’t about to do—again, at least not after a one-hour acquaintance.

Though, two was looking better all the time.

The plane bounced again, quickly, up and down. Reese’s stomach bounced with it—at least, on the way up. It didn’t go all the way down and settle back into place.