Page 35 of A Kiss at Midnight

I eye him with suspicion. Is this a trick? He hasn’t lied to me so far, hasn’t told me anything, and then taken it back. Can I trust him?

I barely manage to give him my hand before I’m propelled forward and climbing onto the small front seat. It’s at least a full minute before I let out my breath, and that’s only because he’s left the door beside me wide open. He goes around the front of the plane and climbs in beside me, his thigh touching mine as he gets situated.

“See? It’s not so bad,” he says, his voice soothing.

“It’s not bad because we aren’t going anywhere,” I choke out.

“Why don’t you ask some questions? I’ll tell you whatever you’d like to know.”

How can I ask questions when my throat’s completely closed? Since he’s silent, I look around the plane, gazing at all of the dials, knobs, and screens, not knowing what any of them mean.

“There are so many buttons, so many different functions for you to perform. What if something fails? Or if the screens go out? Or if the wheels fall off? Heck, what if a wing pops off?” I don’t give him time to answer anything before I blurt out the next question.

He waits until I stop, sending a blinding smile my way.

“I can almost guarantee you that the wings and wheels won’t pop off. They’re on pretty damn tight.”

“Almost? You saidalmost.” Of course I’ve latched onto the one worrisome word.

“I wouldn’t risk my life for a cheap thrill. I know this plane better than I know my car. I guarantee I’ll take you up in the sky and safely land you back on solid ground. I also guarantee you’ll be in heaven while we’re up there.”

“Youcan’tguarantee that.”

“Yes, I can, Jewel. I’m confident in my ability to control this plane, just like I control my life — and, for that matter, your orgasms. Even if the engine stalls, I can safely land.”

My breathing grows more frantic because I know I’m going up in this plane. The door is going to close, and we’re going to speed down the runway, and then lift into the sky. There will be no more talking.

Blake climbs from the plane and walks to my side. “Trust me,” he says before leaning in and coming within inches of my lips — not that I really notice... for the first time ever.

My seat belt locks, and the door closes. I should say no, jump from the plane, give up on the entire thing that’s happening between us, but I can’t even breathe, let alone speak. He’s soon back in the pilot seat and saying words I can’t comprehend.

“clear prop...”

“pressure good...”

“cleared for takeoff...”

And then we’re moving. The small Cirrus emerges from Blake’s personal hangar and sits at the end of his runway while the engine revs, gaining power. My eyes are wet with worry, my vision blurred. We start forward, the small plane quickly picking up speed.

As the plane lifts off and rapidly rises up, up, up in the sky, I hold my breath, sure my face is turning blue. I know we’re going to come down in a fiery blaze of glory. Where will this leave Justin?

As we climb higher, a gust of wind shakes the plane, and my hand shoots out and grips Blake’s thigh. My throat closes again, and I’m unable to think. A cry for help? Not possible. Who can help anyway? There’s no 911 number for the sky. Maybe he can try a Mayday call over the radio, but what good will that do?

Then the most amazing thing happens. After making a large arc, Blake levels the plane and faces it toward the setting sun. The sky is filled with color, and his softly spoken words register in my brain.

“Look at that. Just take a deep breath and look.”

I can’t tear my gaze away from the view. I know we’re barreling through the evening air, but it feels like we’re barely moving. The only sound I hear is his whispered words through my headset, and the only thing I see is the brilliant reds and oranges lighting the horizon.

“It’s spectacular,” I say, jumping when I hear my own words echo back in my ears.

We’re both too awed to say anything else as we zoom along and watch the sunset, then we’re in a pitch-black sky, flying over fields and small cities. Blake reaches down and adjusts the lights on the dashboard, the glow outlining his handsome face.

His eyes are shining as he looks intently forward, his lips turned up in an almost secret smile, a smile that tells me he’s happy, he’s where he belongs. He loves this. My fear evaporates because I realize I’m safe. I trust his word, trust him to protect me... and this fills me with an entirely new fear.

“I’ve always loved to fly,” he says, “from the very first moment I sat left seat and took the controls of the airplane for the first time — I was twenty-one and taking lessons. But my favorite time of all is night. Everything after the sun sets feels different. It’s like the rest of the world disappears, and I’m finally free. Free from chaos, from noise, from work, from anger — I’m free from it all. I’m up here, and my worries disappear for an hour or two — or five — that I decide to stay in the sky.”

“I wouldn’t think a guy like you, a guy who holds the world in the palm of his hands, would have a single worry you need to forget about,” I reply, my voice quiet, not wanting to shatter this moment. Right after saying it, my conversation with Bill pops into my head, making me regret my words.

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