Lone Star Heartbreaker (3 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Tyler's warmth and the musky scent of his aftershave sparked something deep inside Caitlyn. Something she hadn't felt in a long time. She tried not to flex her fingers that were resting against the man's rock-hard chest where solid muscle bulged beneath his black T-shirt.

His breath rasped hot and heavy in her ear, while she waited for him to regain his balance.

It didn't take long.

Tyler gently disengaged and transferred his weight to his crutches. "Sorry about that. I haven't ful y recovered from the crash. Believe it or not, I'm actual y a lot better now than I was at first."

"Must've been some accident. Do you know what caused it?" She stared at the twisted metal that had once been a sleek little plane. Why hadn't anyone hauled it off and cleaned up the mess?

"Mechanical failure," he said. "The FAA investigated, of course. Then I had it moved from the crash site to where you see it now. I'l check it out myself, once I'm off these damned crutches. For my peace of mind . . . and closure."

Caitlyn caught his gaze. Those oh-so-blue eyes held hers steady, yet she detected the fear behind the bravado. He was afraid it was his fault even though he'd been cleared of blame. He was obviously physical y unable to fly at the moment. He was probably afraid he'd never be able to fly again.

For someone like Tyler McCade, that would be a living hel .

"Come on," he said. "The sooner we sign those papers, the sooner you can get situated and squared away."

A young man walked out of the hangar that housed the office. He looked about seventeen or eighteen years old. "Hey, Tyler. Miss." The kid tipped his hat in an old-fashioned gesture.

"Hey, Pete. I'd like you to meet our new pilot, Caitlyn Ross. Caitlyn, this is Pete Lafferty. He's working for me this summer before he heads off to col ege."

Pete offered his hand and Caitlyn shook it. "Nice to meet you, Pete."

"Ma'am."

"Please. Cal me Caitlyn."
Ma'am
made her feel older than her twenty-eight years.

"Yes, ma'am." The boy's cheeks turned ruddy and he quickly squatted on his haunches and patted Reba. "I'l look after her while you're in the office .

. . Caitlyn. If you don't mind, that is. I used to have a dog just like her."

"I don't want to put you to any trouble. I'm sure you have other things to do."

Pete shook his head. "No trouble, ma'am." He stood and patted his leg, whistling as he moved toward the hangar door. "Come on, girl. I bet you're thirsty and hungry. Is she on a special diet? I have some scraps from breakfast I could give her."

"Reba eats just about anything you set in front of her," Caitlyn said. "Thanks, Pete."

"My pleasure, ma'am." The young man tipped his hat again, then disappeared into the hangar, with a happy Reba fol owing by his side.

Caitlyn stood staring after them. "He seems awful y young. Especial y when he keeps cal ing me
ma'am
."

Tyler grinned as he continued toward the office door. "He's a good kid. Wants to be a pilot some day. He's crazy about planes."

"I can certainly relate to that," Caitlyn said with a smile.

Tyler's grin disappeared. "So can I. It's just about kil ing me to be grounded."

"I bet. I haven't flown since my dad died. This job gives me the perfect opportunity to do what I love and get paid for it. After I liquidated the flying school, I thought I was going to have to get a desk job." She shuddered at the memory.

"I know what you mean. Here we go." Tyler held open the door to the office for her.

Caitlyn stepped into the smal compact room. It was extremely messy, with papers and notebooks scattered about. She couldn't imagine conducting business in such a chaotic, haphazard kind of way. Even her dad had had a filing system of some sort.

Tyler closed the door and walked to the straight-back chair in front of the desk. Leaning on his crutches, he removed a pile of magazines and dropped them on the floor. "Have a seat."

Caitlyn sat down and watched Tyler make his way around the desk and plop down in the swivel chair, wincing when his butt hit the seat. Apparently, he was stil experiencing a lot of pain. Both physical y, and probably emotional y as wel .

Wel , he had to be. That first time when she'd tried to help him balance, he'd jerked away as if she'd been a live red-hot coal. But the second time, he'd actual y leaned against her while he got his bearings. And those few minutes were enough to set the butterflies of awareness loose in her stomach. His touch had definitely burned; his clean masculine scent had intoxicated.

As he sat behind his desk, Caitlyn was struck by his dark good looks. He had a strong jawline and a determined chin. She quickly passed over the chiseled lips, focusing on the broad forehead and short spiky brown hair, the dark slanted brows over sapphire blue eyes. Eyes intently taking her measure, just as she was taking his.

She felt a blush heat her cheeks. When she'd taken the job, she hadn't thought one way or another about working alongside Tyler McCade. She'd been too thankful to be hired for the pilot's position. Oh, she knew about Tyler's reputation. She'd seen him in action at some of the air shows around the country. She'd flown the circuit, too. Tyler McCade was what legends were made from.

And now he was grounded.

She lifted her chin, folded her hands in her lap and waited.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

"Not formal y. I compete in some of the air shows."

"
You
fly in the air shows?"

"Yes, I do. Oh, I'm not in the same league as you, but I've won my fair share of competitions."

"So that's why you look familiar," Tyler said. "I must have seen you at one show or another."

"Oh, I've seen
you
at more than one show," Caitlyn said with a smile. "Also in a few of the clubs after the shows were over. In fact, you hit on me once in Waco. A couple of years back."

Tyler frowned, as if trying to dredge up a lost memory. "I don't remember--"

"You were drunk at the time."

"Oh God." He closed his eyes and groaned. "It doesn't get much more awkward than this, does it?"

She shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Everyone knows you have another nickname besides Mr. Do or Die McCade."

"Huh-oh. Here it comes." Tyler flashed her a charming megawatt smile that immediately played havoc with her hormones.

She ignored the flash of heat and kept her tone light. "Oh yeah. You know it.
Mr. Love 'em and Leave 'em
."

"Okay, I was mistaken. It's getting much more awkward in here. I'm surprised you even considered working for me, what with my reputation and al ."

"Oh, I'm sure you're not real y that bad."

"Thanks . . . I
think.
"

Caitlyn shrugged. "Hey . . . I real y need this job. I'm not a slacker. I may be smal , but I'm very strong and capable. I'l pul my weight, plus some."

"I'm sure you wil ."

"And I'm hoping to restore my dad's plane to its original condition. Working for you wil give me access to the tools and equipment I need to make the repairs. On my days off, of course. If you don't mind, that is."

"I don't mind. In fact, I'l help. Pete wil , too. I'd love to work on a vintage Pitts Special."

"That would be great. I plan to fly it in the Stone Creek Air Show Competition in October. I'm hoping to win one of the big cash prizes. I need the money to pay off the rest of my father's debts. And whatever's left over wil help me get back on my feet again."

"Stone Creek is right in our back yard."

"I know. One more reason that makes this job perfect for me. I real y need that money."

Tyler stared at her for a long moment. She tried not to squirm under such intense scrutiny. "You think you can restore the plane in that length of time?

Four months isn't very long from now."

Caitlyn bit her lip. "I have to. With your help and maybe some pointers, it's almost a done deal. After al , you
are
Mr. Do or Die McCade. Who better to show me the way?"

"I don't think that nickname applies any longer."

"Oh come on," Caitlyn said, hating how down and out he sounded. "You'l be back in the cockpit in no time."

He shrugged. "That's what everyone says. I'm starting to have my doubts."

"I'l tel you what. You help me with the Pitts and the competition, and I'l help you with your rehabilitation."

"How do you propose to do that?"

"Wel , I don't know exactly. There must be something I can do to help."

He didn't say anything for a moment; his eyes darkened with awareness and his glance fel to her lips. Caitlyn's body reacted with alarming alacrity.

Her nipples tightened against the silk fabric of her bra and a heaviness settled low in her bel y.

She waited for him to say something. Anything.

Tyler cleared his throat. "I'm sure we'l find something for you to do. I want off these crutches so bad, I'd sel my soul to the devil." He fumbled with a stack of papers on his desk, moving them behind him to the table against the wal . He swung around and faced her again, picked up a lone sheet of paper and studied it. "Now, about those questions. I need a few clarifications. Do you know how to operate aerial applicators?"

Caitlyn stal ed for a moment, before answering. Here came the moment of truth. She adjusted her position on the hard seat of the chair. "Not exactly, but I'm a fast learner. You could show me, couldn't you?"

"You've
never
operated an aerial applicator? How could I have missed that in the phone interview?" Tyler stared at the paper in his hand, glanced at the back, then the front again. "Okay, no problem. I can teach you. You do have your commercial license, right? Any tail-wheel experience?"

"Yes, I've flown more than thirty hours and have my logbook endorsement. I can show it to you, if you want."

He nodded. "Al right, that's acceptable. Tel me again what kind of aircraft you've flown."

"Wel . . . my father owned a Cessna Skyhawk and a couple of Pipers. I've also flown an Edge 540, a Giles G-202 and an MX2. And the Pitts Special, before it broke down so completely."

Tyler whistled under his breath. "
That's
the reason I wanted to hire you. If you can fly those planes, you should have no problem flying any of mine."

Caitlyn couldn't help the pleasurable feeling his praise evoked. "Thanks."

"And you should do fine flying applications. I'l train you. Now, if I can find the form for you to fil out, we'l be al set." One after another, Tyler slid open and slammed shut the desk drawers. In the last drawer he found what he'd been looking for, holding up a crumpled sheet of paper. "Final y!" He smoothed it out on the top of his desk before handing it to her. "Here's an application for employment. Fil it out and you'l be good to go."

Caitlyn took the paper from him. "Just like that? You don't want to see me fly?"

He shrugged. "To be honest, I'm desperate for a pilot. My business is sinking fast. The spring planting is done. That means our busiest time of year for spraying pesticides and herbicides is already underway. You said you could fly anything, anywhere. I believe you. You've answered my main questions. Interview's over. Just fil out the paperwork, and it'l be a done deal."

He handed her a pen. "Oh, and you can park your rig behind hangar number two. There are hookups and even a dump station. Make yourself at home. And welcome to Lone Star Wings."

****

Caitlyn set up "camp" that afternoon. Pete showed her where to park her truck and helped her with the hook-ups, even though she assured him she could do it herself, and then he left her to her own devices.

Looking at her watch, she decided to head into town to get a bite of dinner and maybe pick up a few groceries. She cal ed to Reba and coaxed her inside the air-conditioned camper where she'd be safe while Caitlyn was gone. Pete had warned her about animal traps out in the pasture.

"Don't want her to get caught up in one, ma'am," the kid had said. "Best to keep a careful watch on her until she gets used to the area."

Caitlyn rubbed Reba's ears and kissed her nose. "I won't be long, girl. Rest here inside and I'l be back before you know it." She set out food and water, then grabbed her helmet and purse and set off to town on her smal scooter.

The scooter traveled inside the camper when she was on the road. Having another mode of transportation made it easier, so she didn't have to unhook the water and electricity every time she needed to make short trips while she was camping.

The breeze felt good on her face as she turned off the dirt road onto the pavement winding its way to Salt Fork, the smal town situated about ten or twelve miles from the airfield. She'd seen a cafe when she'd passed through earlier in the day. Pul ing into the crowded parking lot--guess everyone had decided to grab a bite of dinner--Caitlyn locked her bike, hung her helmet on the handlebars, finger-combed her hair, and with a deep breath for courage, opened the glass door and walked inside.

She had always felt shy and somewhat conspicuous when she went somewhere by herself, like restaurants or movie theaters. Now that she was alone and on her own, this was something she was trying very hard to overcome.

"I'l be with you in a sec, honey," the waitress cal ed from behind the counter.

Caitlyn looked around the cheerful y decorated cafe with the large windows curtained with red gingham-checked fabric, the chrome tables and chairs, the lunch counter with those old-fashioned swivel stools and red-leathered booths lining the wal s. Nice and home-like. She'd bet her last dol ar the food was delicious.