“We won’t be gone long, and if it guarantees a satisfied client, I would think that would make your decision easy. I’ll throw in some sightseeing to make the offer more attractive. My place is near Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona’s ‘little Grand Canyon.’ It’s the next best thing to the big one. The foliage is spectacular right now.”
“I’ve never been to Arizona…”
“Then here’s your chance. The rimrock at sunset is impressive, so don’t forget to pack a camera.”
“Slow down! I can’t leave the rest of my cases in limbo on a whim.”
“A whim? You agreed to work on the Parker case. Surely that includes on-site consultations with the clients.”
“Yes, but there’s nothing to be gained in my going. My report makes it clear that both letters were written by the same person: Elliot Parker.”
“There’s Margo to consider,” he continued. “Her pregnancy has made her sensitive. She will appreciate having the outcome of your report reinforced by your own words, from your own lovely mouth.”
“Oh, Cash, you’re impossible.”
“If you’re uncomfortable about accommodations, I can arrange to have my part-time housekeeper remain overnight. I wouldn’t want you to lose sleep over the fear of being ravished.”
Christie laughed. “All right. But I have the feeling that you knew I’d give in if you badgered me long enough.”
In response a wide grin spread across Cash’s face. Pleased or devilish? she wondered. A little voice in her head warned that not even a resident duenna could assure her safety in the situation ahead. Anxiety and exhilaration filled her with the same tension she experienced when contemplating a black-diamond ski run. There was a subtle difference, however: if she tumbled down a snow-covered mountain, she only risked a fractured bone. If she fell for Cash McCullough, she could wind up with a broken heart.
CHAPTER THREE
The Beechcraft Baron taxied down the runway at San Francisco Airport. Sitting in the cocoon-like cockpit of a private plane was far removed from the movie-theater ambience of a jumbo jet. The steady rumble of the wheels beneath Christie’s feet as the plane hurtled across the tarmac placed her in an intimate relationship with the business of flying.
She watched the ailerons flutter as the plane gathered speed, readying for liftoff. The cabin vibrated as the Beechcraft nosed upward at a seemingly impossible angle, and the breath caught in her throat. Her fingers clutched the armrests so tightly her knuckles turned white. Climbing steadily, they left San Francisco’s skyline far below. Carving an arc over the bay, the plane headed south, gaining altitude with every minute.
Christie’s tenacious grip on the seat loosened when the plane leveled out at cruising altitude. Cash glanced at her.
“Hey, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“Well…this is the first time I’ve flown in a private plane. It’s a bit scary. Wouldn’t it be simpler to take a commercial flight?”
“Heck, no. When I want to go someplace, it has to be right away, not on Cozy Craft Airlines’ schedule.”
“But think of all the work you could accomplish if you left the driving to a pro,” she countered.
“Are you criticizing my ability to fly this baby? I’m considered a first-rate pilot in some circles. Besides, paperwork is the bane of a creative mind. At twenty thousand feet above the ground, there is little to interfere with my thought process. I often capture an elusive or forgotten facet of defense strategy cruising through the clouds. Besides, it’s fun.” He smiled at her. “It’s good for the soul.”
She did not doubt his enjoyment. She only wished she shared his enthusiasm.
Cash’s attention became fixed on the endless blue corridor. A shaft of sunlight pierced a cloud bank above the jet and split into a medley of cinnamon rays that transformed the puffs below into cotton candy. It was like being in the center of a kaleidoscope, and Christie was lulled into relaxation by the swirling fantasy atmosphere.
She was beginning to understand why he preferred flying in a small plane. Commercial airlines offered a means of getting to a destination. The Beechcraft was all about the journey. The hum of the props was a soothing chant that eventually cleared her mind of anxieties.
Cash’s shoulders shifted up and down in an exaggerated shrug. “Do me a favor, Christie? My neck and shoulders are knotted. Would you massage them for a few minutes? I’ll put the plane on automatic pilot.”
She crossed her arms over her chest in an unconscious attitude of self-protection. To refuse would be petty. She fumbled with the seat belt and stood up slowly, hesitantly. Each measured step was a delaying tactic, deliberately putting off physical contact.
She stood behind him and placed her hands at the base of his neck. His skin was warm beneath her fingers. She kneaded the taut muscles, feeling his heartbeat increase in tempo as her fingers walked along his neck and shoulders.
“Grrreat,” he growled.
Encouraged, she traced the angles of his shoulders, pressing her fingers into each groove and rubbing her thumbs across the rounded rise. There was strength here. Leaning against him slightly, she flattened her hands across his collarbone and took in the feel of his skin against her palms. She shook herself. Enough. She was enjoying this little exercise too much. She stepped back.
“How was that?” She hoped he caught the inflection in her voice that indicated the massage was over.
“Much better. You’re a regular wizard; there’s magic in those hands.”
“You mean sorceress.”
“What?”
“Wizard is masculine. Sorceress is feminine.”
“How could I have confused your gender?”
“Behave yourself.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong yet.”
“You’re thinking it. Naughty vibrations were burning my fingertips. You were definitely not focused on flying.”
“I had more entertaining things on my mind. Would you rather have a boring companion with soda-bottle glasses and tunnel vision?”
“No, but I’d be a lot more comfortable—and safe. How long before we reach Sedona?”
“We’re due to land at seven. It will still be light out and you’ll see firsthand that the area lives up to its scenic reputation.”
“If it’s so beautiful, why did you move to California?”
“I attended law school at Stanford, got my degree and never left. I bought Serenade after my first year in practice—that was six years ago—and made it my home.”
Christie perceived wistfulness in his voice. “Are you content with being a part-time resident of Arizona?”
“It doesn’t take long to become a native Californian. Especially when you have an affinity for water. I get edgy if I can’t smell the sea, so California is a perfect fit. When I want the desert, I hop on board the Beechcraft and in a few hours I’m in Sedona.”
“And the rest of your family?”
“San Diego area. My brother-in-law is in corporate sales for a hotel chain. About five years ago, he accepted a job transfer to San Diego and he and my sister, Jane, and the kids settled in La Jolla. Soon after, my parents settled into a retirement community nearby. We usually get together once a month; there’s always a holiday or birthday to celebrate. Mine’s coming up soon—I’ll be thirty-two.”
She wouldn’t reach the big three-oh for two more years.
Chalk up another point in his favor: it didn’t sound like he had heavy baggage in his past. He had sailed with his father, and spoke well of his mother and sister. Her own parents lived in Reno, and it lifted her spirits whenever they got together.
An hour and a half later, Cash radioed air control, alerted them to his position, and requested permission to land. Minutes later the Beechcraft began its descent.