Page 54 of Midnight Enemy

His blue eyes stare into mine. “Not yet.” He holds my gaze for a moment, then looks back at the road.

My heart bangs on my ribs and I feel suddenly breathless. He glances at me again, and his lips curve up as he says, “What?”

“I assumed that the point of this meeting was either to get me to lower the price for the Waiora or to get me into bed, not as a prelude to dating.”

“It can’t be all three?” He grins at the look on my face. “That was a joke.”

“Orson, why have you asked me out tonight?”

“Because, crazy as it sounds, I like you, and I want to spend time with you.”

“That does sound crazy.”

“Why don’t we just roll with it and see how it goes?”

I frown as he passes the turnoff for the ferry and heads for the Midnight Club. “I thought we were going into the city.”

“We are.”

“We’re not taking the ferry?”

“No, I thought I’d fly us.”

I stare at him. “Pardon?”

He gestures at the hill above the club, where a big letter H marks a flat piece of land. A helicopter sits there, bathed in the warm orange light of the evening sun.

My jaw drops. Slowly, I turn my gaze to him. He looks smug enough that I know his plan was to shock me.

“Fine,” I say. “It’s not like I’ve never taken a helicopter on a first date before.”

He laughs, heads along the road that snakes up the hill behind the complex, and parks beside the helicopter pad.

“Evening, sir,” says a man who’s waiting by the helicopter as we get out.

“Hey, Al,” Orson says. “This is Scarlett.”

“Good evening, Ma’am,” Al says to me.

“Hello,” I say, tongue-tied at the fact that this guy obviously works for Orson. He has staff. Despite his protestation that he doesn’t come from Downton Abbey, it’s difficult not to have that image in my mind.

“She’s all ready,” Al says.

“Thanks.” Orson opens the passenger door and brings me forward. It’s not a huge step up, but he steadies me anyway, and makes sure I’m in before he shuts the door.

My heart races as I buckle myself in and look around the cabin. The dashboard in front of me is a mass of dials and screens and buttons. He gets in the other side, settles himself in the seat, and hands me a pair of headphones. “So I can talk to you,” he says.

I put them on and adjust the microphone as I watch him do the same.

“Hello,” he says, and a shiver runs down my spine at the sound of him inside my head.

“Do you really know how to fly this thing?” I ask as he starts the engine and the rotor blades begin to spin.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ve watched a couple of YouTube videos.”

“Orson…”

“Just relax. It’s going to be a spectacular flight with this sunset.” He starts flipping switches and pressing buttons.

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