Page 20 of Calder Country

“Because this job pays better than the air shows—a lot better.”

“What does your father think of what you’re doing?”

“He’s the one who got me into it. Come on. Let’s get this plane unloaded.”

The plane had overshot the cave entrance. Mason decided to unload where it had stopped. He could carry the crates back to the cave by himself after the plane left. There wouldn’t be that many. He’d hoped for more, but there was a limit to what the small plane could carry.

Ruby started with the forward cockpit, passing each box of bottles, emblazoned with the red Canadian maple leaf, down to Mason on the ground. The rest of the shipment was lined up behind the pilot’s seat to balance the load. The work was finished in a few minutes.

“I’m going to need more,” Mason said. “Will you be bringing me the next order?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s a risky job. I could crash or be fired—or be replaced by a better pilot.”

“Do you know how soon it will be?” Mason was just beginning to realize how much he wanted to see her again.

“I just fly the plane. The less I know the better.” She’d climbed back into the rear cockpit and was strapping on her helmet. “Right now, you’d better hope we can start this engine. Otherwise you’ll be stuck with me, and I’ll be out of a job.”

Except for the complications, that might not be so bad, Mason reflected. But for both their sakes, he needed to get her back in the air. She was probably supposed to keep the plane running while they unloaded the cargo. But the rough landing had cut the engine.

She appeared to be checking the controls. “Do you know what to do?” she asked.

“I watched you and your father at the air show. I’m assuming that starting a plane is something like cranking a Model T.”

“A little, maybe. Just listen and do what I tell you.”

Trying to remember what he’d seen and heard, Mason stood next to the propeller. “Ready,” he called.

“When I say ‘contact,’ you spin the propeller. Do you remember which way?”

“I remember.” He waited for her cue. When it came, he gave the prop a hard spin and jumped back, out of the way.

Nothing happened. They tried again with the same result. The engine wouldn’t even turn over.

With a broken sigh, she climbed out of the cockpit, holding a small canvas tool bag. “I’ll have to open her up.” She climbed onto the lower wing and opened the cowling door that covered the engine. “Let’s hope it’s nothing serious. I didn’t bring any spare parts because of the weight. Oh, blast, I don’t need this.”

The sun’s golden rim had barely risen above the mountains. On the land below, the shadows were still long and deep. Ruby stretched upward and peered into the dark recesses of the engine.

Mason stood close by, watching her from the ground. “I’m a fair mechanic myself,” he said. “I’d be happy to take a look.”

“I’m the one who knows this engine,” she said. “But if you’d come up here with your flashlight and hold it while I check, that would help.”

Mason climbed onto the wing and slipped the flashlight out of his pocket. To get the light where she needed it, he had to stand close behind her and shine it over her shoulder. The contact with her body, warm through her clothes and fragrant with her womanly aroma, sent electric tingles racing over his skin. His arousal stirred. With a silent curse, he shifted back a step, breaking the physical connection between them. But he could still feel her nearness going through him like a shimmering current.

“Can you see the problem?” he asked.

“Not . . . yet. Something could’ve gotten jarred in the landing. A nut or a wire, maybe. I’m checking all the connections.” A moment later, her breathing quickened. “There—I may have found it. Shine the light in closer . . . no, closer, right there.”

Mason leaned closer and did as she’d asked. He struggled to ignore the sweet pressure of her body against his. But as she braced against him, leaning to tighten a bolt in the engine, his imagination began to wander forbidden paths . . . caressing her . . . kissing that lush, moist mouth . . .

What happened next was a blur. Did she lose her footing on the wing, or did Mason’s fantasies get the better of him? All he knew was that she seemed to miss a step and was scrambling for balance when he caught her with an arm around her waist and swung her against him.

Neither of them moved. Mason could feel her trembling. He knew he should let her go, but she fit into the circle of his arms as if she belonged there. He ached to kiss her. Would she let him? Would she respond?

“It’s all right, Ruby . . .” he murmured, his arms tightening around her. “You’re safe. I won’t let you fall.”

She stirred against him. That was when he felt it—something hard jammed against his ribs. “Let me go,” she said in a cold voice. “Now.”

Mason dropped his arms and stepped back on the wing, his free hand clutching a wire for support. That was when he saw the pistol she was aiming at his chest. The weapon was small, but big enough to do the job. Smart girl, carrying something to protect her from woman-hungry jackasses like him.

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