He was quiet a moment as the picture of her modeling-maybe modeling absolutely nothing but her birthday suit-took root. “Shit,” he finally said a little gruffly, realizing she’d said something that he’d missed. “That picture pretty much took over my brain for a sec, sorry.”
“You are disgustingly male.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’m so not doing this.” She stalked toward the door.
“Ah, don’t go away mad.” Just go away. But he couldn’t help the curiosity. All he’d ever seen of her had been here at North Beach. “What do you do when you’re not flying? Or thinking about flying? You all work and no play, Mel?”
She pulled open the door.
“Okaaaaaay, I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, mouth quirking as she threw a universal sign involving only her middle finger over her shoulder.
“Your momma know you do that?” he called after her.
“My momma taught me.”
He laughed, but arched a brow when she whirled back on him. “And what about your momma?” she demanded. “She know her son is the son of a con man?”
“My momma taught me,” he said softly, echoing her words. But whether Mel had meant it or not, Bo certainly did. His mother had taught him-she’d taught him to be quick on his feet so as to dodge the back of her hand, or whatever she had handy.
Mel stared at the door, then turned back. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just tired.” She blew out a breath. “And maybe irritable.”
He felt his mouth twitch. “Maybe?”
Her hands went to her hips. “Trying to meet you halfway here, Black.” She had delicate purple smudges beneath her eyes, he realized, and her shoulders seemed to carry the weight of her world.
“Go home,” he said, tired of the both of them. “We can go at this again tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Night.”
“G’day, Mel.”
She left, muttering something he couldn’t quite catch, something about his accent not being nearly as charming as everyone seemed to think. He followed more slowly, taking his time, his gaze searching the hangar thoroughly as he moved.
Because he couldn’t stop wondering.
Where would Sally have hidden a plane? And then there was the money. Had she spent it? No way had she put it in a bank to wave a red flag to the government about her conning.
Nope, she’d stashed both. Here? He just had a feeling…or maybe that was the itch between his shoulder blades telling him he was being lied to.
Above him, the lights shifted to low. Not exactly subtle, his Mel. Apparently he was to leave now, too. He made his way back to the main hangar, just as the lights there lowered as well. Squinting through the now darkened lobby, he saw two shadows making their way to the front desk.
“I’m worried about her, she works too hard.” The soft, Southern accent was Charlene’s.
“She’s fine, she thrives on stress, our Mel,” Al answered.
“Well, I don’t.”
“Oh, I know that, baby.” At the door now, Al stopped to nuzzle at his wife’s neck, making her giggle. “I have just the thing to help you unwind.”
“Oh, no you don’t. I tried to get a little at lunch, and you were too into your silly football game on the radio. You told me to hush.”
“It was baseball, and all I said was please, whenever possible, talk during the commercials.”
Char huffed but Al was persistent, and she ended up angling her head to give him better access. “Is there a game on tonight?” she drawled a little breathlessly.
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, then what are you waiting for? Take me home, big guy.”
The front door shut on Al’s soft laugh.
Bo moved through the dark lobby, stopping at the sight of another shadow directly across from him.
“Looking for something?” Mel asked in that low, slightly husky voice that always, however inappropriately, brought to mind hot sex.
“You know I am.”
“But I still don’t know what.”
“Sally,” he said. “I’m looking for Sally.”
“She’s-”
“Not here. I know. Thanks.”
“Yeah.” She studied him a moment, then pulled out her keys, started toward the door.
“Char’s right,” he said. “You’re stressed.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s in your walk.”
“And how is that?”
“Well, you move like you have a poker shoved up your-”
She turned back, her mouth tight. “I do not.”
He just smiled.
A frustrated growl escaped her. “I’m not stressed. I love it here and I walk just fine.”
How the woman managed to work all day and still smell good was beyond him, but she did, and that being a turn-on as well, he wiggled his nose trying to get another sniff.
“And to answer your earlier question,” she huffed. “Flying is what I do. It’s who I am. It’s everything to me. I’d have thought you’d understand that.”
“Yes, but I do it good enough that I’m not strapped for cash on a daily basis.”
“I’m not that hard up. Just in a slump, is all.”
“Darling, you’re in more than a slump. This place needs an overhaul. And Anderson Air needs more passenger conveniences, more attention to the little details-”
“My bare-bones service is what makes me the cheapest choice.”
“People with Lear jets don’t want cheap, mate.” He chucked her beneath the chin just for the excuse of touching her and decided not to worry about what that meant. “There’s more to this business than flying.” He shifted closer, which had the predictable benefit of annoying her, then used the opportunity to inhale as deeply as he could without pressing his damn face into her neck. “You need help.”
“If you’re offering, I already said no thanks.”
“Actually, you never said thanks at all.”
She choked out a laugh. The sound had a hint of desperation in it, and he got the feeling she was on the very edge. He tugged on a strand of her wayward, gorgeous hair. “Maybe you need some of Al’s stress relief, Bo style.”
“Go away, Bo.”
“Yeah, I’ll go, but I’ll be back.”
And she’d have to deal with that.
Unfortunately, they both would.
Chapter 5
The next day Mel woke up from a disturbingly erotic dream about Bo, of all people. She sat straight up, panting at the image that had implanted itself in her brain, that of him slowly pulling off her clothing one piece at a time, kissing each inch he revealed.
She had to laugh at herself in the light of day, because-wow, Bo? So not going to happen.
Her cell rang. “Did you hear from Sally yet?” Dimi asked.
Mel fell back onto the bed.
Long silence. “How ’bout the deed?” Dimi finally asked, slurring her words.
“Hey, have you been up all night?”
“Sleeping’s overrated.”
No doubt she’d stayed out all night trying to party away the stress. It wasn’t the first time, but for Mel, the worry never ceased. “Dimi-”
“Did you hear from Greg on the deed?”
“Too early for the attorney to call me,” Mel said slowly. “Look, take the morning off.” Sober up. “Or you’ll be dead on your feet.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“And don’t worry. We’re going to be okay.”
“I know.” But Dimi didn’t sound as if she believed it, and Mel had to admit, she didn’t, either. She drove into the airport on pins and needles, still a little off balance from her dream. Get it together, she ordered herself. Because if you don’t, he’ll be able to see it.
But it was still on her mind all the way to North Beach until she sat at her desk and brought up her e-mail, where she received yet another unpleasant shock. She had an e-mail from LeaveItAlone at an Internet server she didn’t recognize, and nothing in the subject or body of the e-mail.
LeaveItAlone?
Mel forwarded the thing to Ernest. Who sent this? she typed in her e-mail, and wasn’t surprised to get an immediate response, which meant he was in the maintenance hangar on the computer scrolling through porn sites again instead of working.