Page 9 of The Pilot & the Athlete

He held onto the backpack and idled the bike into the hangar, parking it next to a Cadillac Escalade. The SUV was tricked out and ready for any of Aiden’s people to use. Aiden had homes that doubled as command centers in Long Island, Newport Beach, Costa Rica, and the Kingdom of Magna off the coast of Spain with airport hangars close to each home. His boss also had secure hangars like this one in ten other major cities.

Putting the kickstand down, Paul waited for Shay to slide off. She edged away on the smooth concrete floor. His T-shirt slid off one shoulder. He stared and had to force himself to look away. Shay wearing his shirt was a vision he’d never thought to have, but now he didn’t know that he’d ever get the enticing picture out of his mind.

Paul shook his head and climbed off the bike. He slipped the criminal’s phone out of his pocket and left it on the bike seat. The police or FBI would secure the other criminals’ phones and information from them, but Aiden’s tech team could use this phone to find their own information and leads regarding Benjamin Oliver. The man was on every most wanted list. Aiden was determined to find him for their good friend Quaid Raven and Quaid’s sisters’ sakes. Benjamin was their father and none of them would be safe or able to lead normal lives until the man was in a secure prison or dead.

Paul used another remote to open the plane door. He waited for Shay to walk up the four steps and into the Gulfstream first. He had to force himself to look away from her toned legs. His shirt was too big and yet not big enough.

“Wow, this is bougie,” Shay said, looking around at the plush interior of the nineteen-passenger Gulfstream G700.

He laughed at the teenage term. She’d said a few of them. It was a funny contrast to the accomplished and driven world-class athlete. “Are you trying to make me feel old?” He climbed into the plane and pushed a button to shut the door behind them.

Her gaze traveled over his upper body, and he was grateful for his demanding career that required him to stay in top shape. “You don’t look old,” she murmured. “You look swole.”

“Thank you. I think.” He chuckled. “What does swole mean?” He’d heard the term before but found himself wanting to tease her and to hear her define it.

“Very muscular and defined,” she said, grinning at him.

He wanted to stand here and have her look at him like that all day. Which meant it was time for him to move.

“Excuse me.” He walked to the bathroom and hurried to wash his hands, splash some water on his face, and pull a clean T-shirt from a drawer. He had almost as many personal items on Aiden’s jets as Aiden and his wife, Chalisa. Aiden was always sending different operatives, friends, or family on his planes. Paul felt like he lived on them sometimes, but the sky was his home, so it was a good fit.

Hurrying back out into the main area, he said, “You’re welcome to use the bathroom, and any products or clothes you can find in the drawers and cabinets are free game.”

“Oh, thank you. I can give you your shirt back.”

He smiled. “Keep it. Souvenir. I’ll start pre-flight checks so we can get moving.” He pivoted and walked to the cockpit, leaving the door open. All was quiet outside the hangar at thesmall airport. It was after midnight, so that made sense, but it was a relief no one had followed them.

He found his mind wandering as he did his pre-flight routine. It led back to Shay every time. Not just how enticing she was all grown up, but how funny she was with her teenage words, how enthralling her smile was, how accomplished she was as an athlete, and how brave she’d been around hardened and disgusting criminals.

He needed the story of why she’d been in those men’s grips in a swimming suit. He heard the bathroom door open, and it was instinctive to look back through the open cockpit door and into the main body of the plane. He’d thought Shay was irresistible in her swimsuit and his T-shirt. She was, but seeing her in a fitted white knit dress with her honey-colored hair brushed out, her skin clean and bright, her eyes framed with long lashes, and her lips shiny … He couldn’t move, couldn’t blink. What was he supposed to be doing right now?

She walked through the plane and entered the cockpit as he stared like a teenager. Tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear, she ducked her head slightly. That innocent and sweet move snapped him out of his trance. This was his former friend’s sister. She was innocent, seven years younger than him, and in danger. She didn’t need him ogling her like those men had done.

He’d always been proud of his self-control. Not right now. Right now, he was acting like the teenager she probably remembered him as—full of himself and living for the next thrill on snow skis, a dirt bike, a cliff face, or a river. Their small resort town in the middle of the Colorado mountains had been the perfect spot for an adventurous teenage boy. He’d gone on all of his adventures with Darian. Until six years after graduationwhen he’d come home to visit, the town had thrown a party, and Carrie had decided to use Paul to break Darian’s heart.

“This is fire that you’re some famous pilot.”

“Fire?”

She’d said the same thing about clinging to him earlier.

“Incredible.” She smiled at him, and he felt incredible. “Is it okay if I sit up here with you or do I need some certification?”

“I’ll have to put you through rigorous pilot training, but sure.”

“What does pilot training include?” She gave him a brilliant smile.

Kissing; loads of kissing.

She moistened her lips, and he feared for a moment that he’d said that out loud.

He shook his head to clear it. “Buckle in and I’ll teach you.”

“Let’s get this bread.” She slid into the co-pilot seat and rubbed her hands together eagerly.

Again. He was staring. He rarely had a co-pilot. He wanted her sitting in that seat every time he flew from now on. He rubbed at his jaw. What was happening to him? She couldn’t sit there. He’d be distracted like he’d never been on a flight.

His phone beeped a text, a thankful interruption from staring at her. Aiden. “Just a moment.”

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