Hightower Affairs 2: Bedding the Secret Heiress (12 page)

They said their goodbyes to the client and buckled into the rental car. Lauren stared out the window. He’d barely known her a week, but he already knew and liked the way she threw herself one hundred percent into everything she did. He liked her analytical mind, the way she relentlessly picked apart the details of an issue until she understood the big picture. Working with her had been easy because he shared the same traits. He liked that she knew how to have fun. She wasn’t having any now.

He merged the car onto the highway. “The phone call upset you. What’s going on?”

“Gage, it’s nothing important.” She pulled out her cell phone. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to call the food service people to order our meal and notify the airport that we’re on our way.”

Part of him admired her efficiency as she quickly dealt with preflight red tape like the pro she was, but her nonanswer frustrated him. He’d bide his time, but he would get to the bottom of what had killed her good mood before they took off.

An hour later he’d made no progress. Any attempts
at private conversation had been derailed first by the need to refuel the plane and complete the ground portion of her preflight check, then once Lauren had climbed on board, the hovering staff serving their meal had made a personal discussion impossible. But finally, Lauren closed and locked the jet’s door behind the departing servers, and silence filled the cabin.

Gage positioned himself so that when she turned around she stepped right into his open arms.

Her wide eyes found his. “Is something wrong?”

He rubbed her stiff back. “You tell me.”

Her gaze lowered to his chin. “No. I’ll have us in the air in twenty minutes.”

Not if he had his way. He was determined to discover whatever had her wired, and if that meant getting her to let down her guard by stripping her out of her clothing and communicating the way they did best, then so be it. He stroked a finger along her cheek and her breathing hitched.

“Gage—” Warning filled her voice, but her pupils dilated.

“Ever made love in an airplane?”

She licked her lips. “No.”

“Neither have I.”

“The, um…mile high club usually waits until the plane’s in the air…or so I’m told.”

“I’m not interested in flying without a pilot.”

“Good. Me, either. The threat of crashing isn’t an aphrodisiac for me.”

“Let’s rock this jet, Lauren.” He covered her mouth with his, savoring her soft lips, her taste, her flowery scent. A fragment of his brain wondered if he’d lost his mind. It wasn’t like him to mix business with pleasure, and Lauren was definitely the latter.

Her short nails dug into his waist and the stiffness
slowly drained from her. She leaned into him and her tongue twined with his as she returned the embrace. His heart pounded and desire weighted his groin.

Her palms flattened on his chest and she broke the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, her lids heavy as she looked up at him, but passion glowed in her eyes. “This is crazy. What are we doing?”

Her breathless voice amped up his pulse rate. “We’re going to put one of these leather seats to good use before we take off. As you said, once we return to Knoxville, being together will be a challenge.”

She bit her lip then rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Everything will change, won’t it?”

He lifted her chin and met her worried gaze. “It doesn’t have to. Not yet.”

But soon she’d go back to Daytona, and his life would return to normal. The knowledge didn’t fill him with the relief or satisfaction it should have. He couldn’t afford to be sidetracked right now. He was too close to having Faulkner Consulting exactly where he wanted it. He had almost enough invested to make sure he’d never be homeless or go hungry again even if his business folded.

He caressed her cheek, her neck, then traced her ear. Her eyes closed and her lips parted. He kissed her again, a series of brief teasing touches of his lips on hers.

Impatient for the feel of her, the taste of her, he unbuttoned her uniform jacket then her blouse and cradled her breasts in his hands. He tugged the bra cups down until they rested beneath the swells of pale flesh, then he bent to capture one nipple in his mouth, the other with his fingers.

Her sigh filled his ears. She yanked his shirt from his pants and pressed her palms to his chest. Her hands smoothed over his back, waist and belly, inflaming him.

While he sucked and nibbled her breasts, he outlined her hips, then slid his hands beneath her skirt to caress her incredible legs and tight, round bottom. The snug skirt restricted his movements. He worked the fabric up to her waist and peeled her panty hose and panties down for better access. His palms glided over her warm, satiny skin.

“Mmm, I love the way you touch me.” Her lips teased his skin as she murmured against the side of his neck. Her hand covered his erection, and she massaged him through his pants.

Hunger racked him. A growl rumbled from deep in his gut. He wanted her
now
. He found the slick folds between her legs. Her whimper rewarded him for hitting the spot he’d learned drove her wild.

Her legs parted slightly, but she covered his hand with hers. He noted she didn’t still his circling finger. “You’re rushing me.”

Her sexy whisper only made him more impatient to be inside her. He grazed her nipple with his teeth then lifted his head and stared into her passion-filled eyes. “This is going to be hard and fast. Got a problem with that?”

Her throaty chuckle vibrated over him. “No.”

As he backed toward the nearest seat, her fingers went to work on his belt and pants. She shoved them over his butt, and he sank onto the cool leather. He stripped her panty hose and panties to her ankles then gripped her hips and pulled her toward him.

He buried his face in her curls, savoring her scent in his nose and the taste of her arousal on his tongue.

“Gage, I can’t—”

“Hold on,” he said against her.

She grasped his shoulders. He licked, sucked and teased her until her legs shook and her nails dug into
his scalp. He kneaded her bottom with one hand and her breast with the other. Her breathing turned choppy then her back bowed. Climax shuddered through her, making her jerk against his mouth and moisten his fingers. She sagged into his hand.

He kissed her hip, tongued her navel, then her nipples until the aftershocks passed. “I have a condom in my left pants pocket.”

She leaned back in his arms, a sassy smile curving her lips. “Confident, were you?”

“I knew what we both wanted.”

“Smart man. No wonder companies pay you the big bucks.” She knelt in front of him and bent to dig into the trousers piled on top of the shoes he hadn’t removed. Meeting his gaze, she tore the packet with her teeth and wrapped her fingers around him, but instead of rolling on the latex, she leaned forward and took him into her hot, wet mouth.

Gage slammed back against the seat as desire seared him. Her tongue swirled around the head of his shaft, and his control wavered. He gripped the armrests and fought against the explosive need building deep in his gut.

“Lauren.” He growled her name in warning.

She lifted her head only a fraction. “You said you wanted fast.”

Her warm breath teased his damp flesh. One of the things he liked about Lauren was she didn’t play coy or try to hide her desire. She wanted him. He could see her hunger in her eyes, on her wet lips and her pink cheeks. With mischief dancing in her eyes she held his gaze, flicked her tongue over him and stroked him from base to tip and back again. He quaked with need.

“Put the damned thing on and ride me.”

Her lips curved into a wicked grin. “Yes, sir. Did I mention the customer’s always right?”

She taunted him by rolling on the protection slowly, rechecking the fit again and again by gliding her fingers up and down his length and cupping his nuts. The touch of her hands drove him toward the crumbling edge of his control.

“Witch.”

The gutteral word made her grin widen.

He grabbed her wrists and yanked her over him. She stumbled, probably entangled in the lingerie still wound around her ankles. He caught her and urged her forward.

She planted a knee on the wide seat on either side of him. He hit the recline button, laying himself back, then guided her over his erection. She lowered, engulfing him one slow inch at a time.

A seductive smile teased her lips as she eased down until she’d taken his full length, then her breath whooshed out on a half sigh, half moan. “You feel good.”

“So do you, babe. Damned good.”

He lifted her skirt higher, clearing the view to watch her taking him as she rose over him, lowered, lifted again. He clutched her hips and helped her set a pace guaranteed to drive him out of his mind. Then he found her center and worked her with his thumb. Her legs trembled more with each rise and fall. His muscles clenched as he met each descent with an upward thrust.

He quickened the circles of his thumb and focused on the ecstasy chasing across her face, on the hot, slick glide of her body tightly gloving his. He was damned close, but he wasn’t coming without her. Not if he could help it. He arched forward and caught a nipple between his lips.

Her orgasm hit, jerking her with the first wave. Her
internal muscles contracted around him, and he quit fighting. His climax blasted from his extremities through his gut then he erupted like a geyser. Afraid he’d throw her off as the violent spasms rocked him, he grabbed her waist and held on until, drained, he dissolved into the seat.

Lauren collapsed over him with her head on his shoulder and her rapid breaths steaming his jaw. She stroked his cheek, kissed his chin. “Wow.”

Her dazed tone startled a laugh out of him. He couldn’t remember ever laughing during or after sex before Lauren. But he’d laughed more with her over the past few days than he had in years. She was so real, honest and upfront about her reactions.

Trent was wrong about her. Dead wrong.

“I’ll second that wow.” Gage caressed her moist back beneath the uniform he hadn’t bothered to remove and waited for his heart and breathing to slow.

Lauren eased upright, smiling, disheveled and looking a little bemused. A lock of hair had come loose from the twist she’d pinned on the back of her head. An urge to hug her rolled over him, but he didn’t do hugs. Hugs led people to expect more. He settled for tucking the silky strand behind her ear and tracing a finger over the slowing pulse at the base of her neck.

“Lauren, tell me about the phone call.”

She stiffened and tried to get off him, but he clamped his hands on her thighs and held her in place.

“You’re persistent, aren’t you? Don’t sweat it. As I’ve said, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He didn’t like being shut out. “Problem solving is what I do best. Let me help you.”

She held his gaze for several moments. Indecision flickered across her face and her mouth opened then
closed. She shook her head. “Not this time. But thank you for offering.”

She squirmed again and he let her go. His body slipped from hers, and cool air circulating through the plane replaced her warmth, but it was her mental withdrawal that chilled him. She stood, pushed down her skirt, and turning her back, hastily pulled up her panties and hose, buttoned her shirt and straightened her uniform.

He rose and redressed while she used the onboard bathroom. When she finished he took his turn, discarding the condom and washing up. She was waiting when he returned to the cabin with her shoulders stiff and her chin high.

“I won’t be distracted in the cockpit if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I have complete faith in your flying capabilities. If I didn’t, not even Trent’s friendship would make me put my life in your hands or your aircraft.”

She bit her bottom lip. “I need a favor.”

Tension crept into his muscles. Women always wanted something. For them, everything came with a price. “Name it.”

“Please don’t tell Trent about our…involvement.”

“I meant it when I told you I’d keep our private business between us.”

“I just needed to be sure. Thank you.” She closed the distance between them, rose on tiptoe and kissed him briefly, then rocked back on her heels and took a deep breath. “Let me get this bird in the air and get us home.”

She turned toward the cockpit and a heavy weight descended over him. What in the hell was his problem?

And then he knew.

He was falling for Lauren Lynch. Falling hard.

E
motion grabbed Lauren by the throat Thursday evening. The accident report fell from her shaking hands to the floor inside her apartment door where she’d torn open the package the moment the deliveryman had departed.

Grief, relief and despair twisted inside her like a waterspout. Her father’s death hadn’t been suicide. His crash had been caused by mechanical defect in the plane’s design.

The plane she’d helped him build.

A logical corner of her mind insisted she wasn’t an aeronautical engineer, and couldn’t have predicted the bolt would shear off or the disastrous results. But she’d practically been raised in a hangar. She knew aircraft structure and maintenance backward and forward, and she’d worked by her father’s side on this project for the past ten years.

As many times as they’d dismantled and reassembled
the major components, why hadn’t she noticed the faulty part? And how had he flown the plane so many times before without incident?

She stabbed a hand into her hair and circled the room. Maybe if he’d let her fly the plane, she’d have felt an unusual shimmy or lack of responsiveness the failing bolt would have caused. Maybe she could have averted disaster. But her father had never let her take the controls of what he’d called his baby.

She had to call Lou. She reached for her phone, and checked her watch. No one would be in the office this late in the evening. She punched his cell number. When voice mail picked up on the first ring she groaned in frustration. He’d forgotten to turn on his phone again. She left a quick message and disconnected. For a man who could handle any technical aspect of an airplane, he hated what he called modern contraptions like cell phones. She’d only recently convinced him to use the Internet. She’d have to call him at home later after his Thursday night bowling club.

But she needed to talk to someone now, someone who would understand the contradictory guilt and relief racking her.

Gage.

The idea hit her with a jolt of adrenaline. He had a way of looking at a situation from all angles. Maybe he could help her work through the emotions torturing her. She hadn’t seen him since a scowling Trent had met them the moment Lauren had opened the airplane door Monday night, and strangely enough, she’d missed Gage the past three days.

Had what they’d shared in San Francisco meant nothing to him? Had he decided to dump her now that he’d slept with her? The idea hurt, and that was stupid because there was no chance of a future between them. But still…

She’d thought him different from the Whits of this world who used a woman then moved on as soon as a model with better perks and more connections came along. If she hadn’t, she never would have gone to bed with Gage.

Either way, she didn’t want to call him. Because of his connection to Trent, revealing the financial reasons some believed her father had committed suicide wouldn’t be a good idea. Falcon’s indebtedness would only reinforce every negative belief her half siblings had about her.

That left Jacqui—if Jacqui was back in the country. She hadn’t been home when Lauren returned from San Francisco. But Jacqui wasn’t a good choice since she was rarely the voice of reason. Still…as much as Lauren had been haranguing her mother for answers, Jacqui deserved to know what the report had uncovered.

Lauren grabbed the papers and her keys and raced down the stairs to her truck. The bite of the cold night air penetrated her sweater, making her realize she’d forgotten her coat. Too bad. She wasn’t taking the time to go back and fetch it.

Shivering, she revved the engine and headed for the Hightower estate. If she was lucky, Trent wouldn’t be there. Twenty minutes later she hit the doorbell.

Fritz opened the door. “Good evening, Miss Lynch.”

“Is she here?”

“In the salon.”

“Is Trent here?”

“No, miss.”

Good.

Fritz turned and led the way. “Ms. Lynch, for you, Madam.”

He stepped aside, revealing Jacqui sitting near the
fireplace, dressed immaculately as always, this time in a dark teal color that brought out the color of her eyes. Lauren couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother looking less than perfect. Jacqui’s perfection had always been daunting for a rough-and-tumble girl who’d usually had skinned knees, scraped knuckles and hair trimmed by her father.

“Lauren, this is a surprise.” Jacqui rose and crossed the room to give her one of those meaningless air kisses.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m surprised Fritz let me in.”

“He’s been told I’m always available to you.”

Nice, but a couple of decades too late. And being physically available didn’t equate to being emotionally accessible. “I have the accident report. Dad’s death wasn’t suicide.”

“I told you it wasn’t.” Jacqui seemed even more tense than her usual uptight self.

“But why should I have believed you when you wouldn’t tell me anything else? Like what you and Daddy discussed that afternoon that sent him racing for the airstrip the moment you left. He flew off without filing a flight plan or telling anyone where he was going or when he’d be back.”

“That’s because I—” Jacqui looked away briefly. “I’m sorry. May I offer you some refreshment?”

Lauren gritted her teeth over the stalling tactic. Jacqui had quite a varied collection of ways to avoid a discussion. “No. Thank you. If we’d known his flight plan, he wouldn’t have lain out there in the Glades so long.”

Jacqui flinched. “The medical examiner’s report stated Kirk died instantly and didn’t suffer while waiting for rescue.”

“That’s the only thing that makes the idea of him dying alone bearable.”

Jacqui squared her narrow shoulders as if bracing herself. “What did the report say?”

Words tumbled in Lauren’s head—words a nonpilot wouldn’t understand. “Without getting technical, the plane’s design was faulty. There was too much stress on some parts. Dad hit stall speed during a steep turn and lost control because a bolt sheared off. He was flying too close to the ground to level out and set her down on her belly. That’s why he went in wing first.”

Jacqui bowed her head, covered her mouth with one beringed, manicured hand and turned away. A muffled sob broke the silence then her shoulders shook.

Watching her mother’s grief made Lauren uncomfortable. Unsure of what to do, she picked at the side seam of her jeans and cleared her tightening throat.

Pilots don’t cry.
Her father’s voice echoed in her head.

She inhaled deeply, struggled for composure.
Focus on the facts.
“I should have noticed the worn part when we broke the plane down and reassembled her. If I had, then maybe he’d still be with us.”

Jacqui spun around, fists curled, body taut. Her mother’s red-rimmed eyes zeroed in on her. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You have nothing to feel guilty about.
I
am the one who should have stopped him.”

Lauren blinked in surprise at her mother’s vehement tone. “How do you think you could have done that?”

“If I hadn’t given him the money—” Another sob choked off her words, leaving nothing but the crackle of the fire to fill the silence.

Lauren senses went on alert. “Money for what?”

Jacqui wrung her hands. “The engineering evaluation, the repeated upfittings…”

A knot formed in Lauren’s stomach. “Wait a minute. Back up. What engineering evaluation?”

Jacqui’s fidgeting stopped. “Kirk didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Her mother crossed to the wet bar and splashed clear liquor from a crystal decanter into a matching tumbler. After taking a healthy swig, she faced Lauren.

“Kirk contacted me just before your eighteenth birthday. He had designed an airplane that he was sure was going to make him rich. He knew there was something not quite right with it, but didn’t know what or how to fix the problem. He asked me to use my connections to get an independent engineering consult. I agreed on the condition that I got to tell you I was your mother and spend more time with you. I had wanted to for years, but that wasn’t part of my original agreement with your father or my husband.”

Lauren let the information soak in. Her mother had wanted to see her? She found that hard to believe. “About the money…?”

“Your father couldn’t afford the engineer’s fee. I had chosen the best, of course. So I paid it.” She paused to gulp more of her drink. “The engineer found a flaw in the swept-back wing design and told your father it couldn’t be corrected. It was something intrinsic in the structure. In fact, the engineer recommended your father not continue to fly the plane. But that airplane was your father’s dream, and he wouldn’t be dissuaded. He convinced me to loan him the money to keep working on the design. Because I couldn’t bear to kill his enthusiasm, I continued to fund the project.”

Maybe her half siblings had good reason to distrust her. “How much money are we talking here?”

“That’s irrelevant. It was my money to do with as I pleased, and until recently, I covered my tracks well.”

“What do you mean
until recently?
”

“Trent’s minions have been spying on me. They reported my recent transactions.”

No wonder her brother hated her. But she’d deal with that later. “Back to Dad and that day.”

“What sent your father off that afternoon was me.
Me.
” Jacqui’s voice cracked. “I asked him to give up, to admit defeat. I did so, not because of the money, but because I was afraid for him. He kept pushing that airplane harder and harder, trying to prove the engineer wrong. And then Kirk admitted he couldn’t afford to quit. He needed to sell and patent the plane’s design to cover his debts.”

Light-headed, Lauren gripped the back of a chair. Her father had known the plane was faulty and chosen to risk his life anyway. For money. Did everything always come down to money?

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because if I hadn’t encouraged him, he’d still be alive. Don’t hate me, Lauren. I did what I did because I loved him. I wanted him to be happy.”

Lauren shook her head in disbelief. “You funded a suicide mission. That’s a strange way to show your love.”

A mixture of anger and grief toward this woman and toward her father churned in her belly. “It’s likely that he turned to you because he’d already borrowed as much as he possibly could against Falcon Air. We’re maxed out. And with the economic downturn of the past few years, business has decreased. We’ve been struggling to make the payments on his loans.

“If the life insurance company finds out he flew against the engineer’s recommendation, they might call his death an act of willful negligence and refuse to pay. And then Falcon will be in deep trouble. We’ll have to file bankruptcy or find a buyer.”

“I’ll give you whatever you need.”

The idea repulsed her. “I don’t want your money, Jacqui. I’ve never wanted your money. And what I want now, you can’t give me.”

“Tell me what it is and I’ll find a way,” Jacqui pleaded.

“I want my father back.”

Lauren had never been one to run away from her problems, but at the moment she ached to be in the cockpit of her Cirrus high above the clouds or racing down the highway on her Harley with the wind tearing at her hair.

She knew better than to operate either machine with her concentration shattered, which was why she was sitting on the side of the road in her pickup staring at the streetlight and trying to gather her composure.

With hindsight, she wished she hadn’t pulled over to answer her cell phone when Lou had returned her call because she was too angry to be tactful.

“You knew,” she choked out.

Silence stretched through the airwaves. “Yeah, I knew,” Lou finally responded.

It was bad enough that her father and mother had selfishly pursued a death wish, but Lou, too? And they’d all kept the engineer’s report from her. Hurt and betrayal burned through her.

“Lauren, your dad was a genius with airplanes. I believed Kirk could find a way to reduce the stress on the wing and fix the problem. If anyone could, he could.”

Lauren’s hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the phone. “But the
expert
said it wasn’t fixable.”

“And we both know what your daddy did when somebody told him he couldn’t do something. He set out
to prove ’em wrong. Same as you’d do. You may be the spittin’ image of your momma, but you’re your daddy’s girl through and through. You got his grit, his flying skills and you sure as hell got his mule-headed stubbornness.”

She made a face at the phone. It wasn’t the first time she’d been accused of being…persistent. But she didn’t see that as a fault. “I would never die just to prove a point.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose, Lauren.”

Her father’s death seemed like a senseless waste, an avoidable accident. “Didn’t anybody care what
I
thought about him risking his life?”

“He didn’t think it was a risk. He’d already logged a hundred hours on that plane before he had the engineer look at it.”

“Turns out he was wrong. Lou, I gotta go.” Before she did something stupid like bawl her eyes out.

Pilots don’t cry.

Heart aching, Lauren disconnected. She couldn’t go back to her empty apartment, and she couldn’t keep driving aimlessly around Knoxville.

Gage. Gage would help her put this into perspective.

To hell with what her siblings thought. If her father’s life insurance refused to pay up, Falcon’s financial woes would be in the airline news soon anyway when its assets went on the auction block.

Gage’s muscles ached with fatigue, and his eyes felt as if someone had dumped a bag of sand into them. Spending the past thirty-six hours without sleep by his father’s side had left him wanting food, a hot shower and a comfortable bed.

He considered ignoring whoever was ringing his doorbell, but he still had a business to run. He’d been
incommunicado since his cell phone battery died two days ago, and he’d forgotten to check the message machine when he’d dragged himself into the house.

The smell of the hospital still clung to him, but he reached into the glass cubicle of his shower and shut off the inviting steamy spray. He dragged on a bathrobe and slowly descended the stairs to his foyer. Who would be visiting at almost midnight? He checked the peephole.