Page 63 of Sin City Lights

Eve adjusted her headset.“So, tell me about this expensive hamburger. What makes it worth a hundred dollars?”

“The burger is three bucks. The other ninety-seven is for the fuel that takes you to the burger.”

Amusement twinkled in her brown eyes.“Ah. I see.”

“The hundred-dollar burger is insider-speak for a short flight to a small airport with a restaurant on site or nearby.”

“Got it. What could be cooler than taking off into the wild blue yonder in search of lunch?”

“Cool, yeah, but there’s another purpose. It’s a way for private pilots to practice skills by leaving the pattern and flying into an airport they’ve never been to before.”

“It doesn’t look to me as if you need to practice your skills.”

He gave her a sidelong glance and caught her staring at his lips. Immediately, gorgeous color appeared on her cheeks, and he bit back a very suggestive comeback.“I’m talking about private pilots,” he said instead.

“You’re not a private pilot?”

“I’m ATP. Air Transport.”

“What’s the difference?”

He sought a simple way to explain it.“There are three levels,” he began.“Private is like you graduated from high school, commercial is like you went to college, and ATP, you got your doctoral degree.“

A shadow passed over her face.

He was beginning to read her. It bothered him that, sometimes, she seemed visited by things that haunted her from her past.

“Then there is flight instructor,” he went on, hoping to draw her out of whatever had upset her,“but that one is separate.”

He reached out to adjust the barometric pressure on the altimeter.

Eve watched closely.“That’s not a six-pack,” she said.“That is an eight-pack.”

He laughed.

He looked into her eyes, and he could tell that she, too, was recalling the other day, back at her apartment, when she had practically attacked him. For a moment, he allowed himself to look at her luscious mouth. Too bad he had a plane to fly.

He circled the first six instruments with his index finger.“This,” he explained,“is the six-pack.” He pointed to the other two.“These are for instrument flying. When the weather is bad, you need them.”

She asked more questions, and he answered them, pleased that she showed genuine interest. So many people he took up were captivated by being up high and the view but showed zero desire to learn about his favorite part, the flying.

“You know,” he told her,“I could teach you to fly if you want to.”

Delight spread across her lovely face.“Really?”

He grinned at her.“Sure. Betty has been a first for so many private pilots, I’ve lost count.”

“I’d like that.”

“Grab the yoke.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.” She seemed reluctant, so he reached out to take her left hand and place it.“Now, your other hand.”

She hesitated.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

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