Flyboy
Excerpt
Stepping close to the aircraft, Sedona reached up and ran an admiring hand along the nose. The metal was cool and smooth beneath her fingers. She ducked under the wing and stepped to the rear of the jet to take a peek at the engine afterburners, though she knew their configuration by heart.
"She's a beauty." Angel followed her beneath the wing, and straightened with one hand on the fuselage. He ran a practiced eye over the aircraft. "There're a lot of frustrated pilots out there waiting for you to give the thumbs up, Miss Stewart."
Sedona rolled her eyes at him, despite the fact his words caused her imagination to surge. "You're speaking from experience, I presume?"
“What else?” He stepped closer to her, until she could smell the distinct fragrance of his soap and the underlying scent that was his alone. “I can attest to the fact that I am one frustrated pilot, mina.”
Sedona grew warm beneath his scrutiny. She pretended to be preoccupied with the long, smooth expanse of the wing, running her fingertip along its beveled edge. “I find that difficult to believe, Lieutenant Torres, considering you completed several, ah, maneuvers just last night.”
“That’s true.” He took a step closer, his eyes hot as they penetrated hers. “However, that was only the maiden voyage. As a test pilot conducting trials, I barely became acquainted with this new asset. I believe additional evaluation is required.”
Sedona’s breathing quickened at the implicit promise in his eyes and the sultry tone of his voice. She glanced under the belly of the Coyote and saw the inspection group begin to move away from the aircraft toward the open doors of the hangar.
“Additional evaluation?” she echoed faintly. “Just what kind of evaluation would that entail?”
“Oh, most definitely a performance evaluation.” He grinned, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. “You see, while I can provide assurance that all systems are operational, and the handling qualities are superb, there is still some question as to how she’ll perform under...extreme conditions.”
Whew. Either it was getting hot inside the hangar, or she was starting to spike a fever. She pushed a stray tendril of hair from her damp forehead and moistened her lips, when all she really wanted to do was tear her clothes off and drag Angel to the concrete floor of the hangar. She’d show him extreme. She might not be overly experienced, but she was nothing if not inventive.
“Extreme conditions,” she repeated, breathless. “As in...?”
“As in how high and fast can I push her?” His voice was low and husky, the faint Spanish accent more pronounced. “What kind of thrust can she tolerate without beginning to wobble, or shudder, or worse, fly apart completely? How hot can her engines run before the inner liner of the combustor melts down?”
Sedona dragged air into her lungs and slid a finger inside the prim collar of her shirt, pulling it away from her skin. “Yes, I think I’m beginning to understand, Lieutenant.” She swallowed hard. “But it sounds...dangerous. Are you certain you want to do this?”
He was so close, Sedona could see the individual spikes of his lashes and feel his warm breath against her cheek. He was too close. Too hot. Too completely irresistible.
“Oh yes, mina,” he purred, “I’m absolutely certain. The only question remaining is...am I cleared to launch?”
She was a goner.
From the book, Flyboy, ISBN-13, 978-0-373-79357-0, by Karen Foley. Copyright© 2007. ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. For more information go to http://www.eHarlequin.com/