Page 28 of Shared By the Pilots

“I definitely don’t have a secret family in Omaha,” he said. After a long pause, he added, “I would keep a secret family in a major airline hub, like Atlanta, or Charlotte. Far more practical.”

It was a relief to laugh with him. He wasn’t married, or engaged, or anything really nefarious. He was just moonlighting for some extra cash on the side.

Bernie came out of the lounge and gave me a wave. “Good to meet you, Veronica. Hope we can work together real soon.”

“You too,” I said as he left the terminal. Luke and I watched him go.

“Sorry for all the secrecy,” Luke said, gently touching my arm. “I signed an NDA about my work with Bernie, and I didn’t want to admit to what I was doing in a text message or email that could potentially be used against me later.”

“You think I would do that?”

He immediately shook his head. “No, but phones get hacked all the time. If it’s one thing my short time in the Air Force taught me, it’s that an abundance of caution never hurt anyone. But still, I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

“I guess so,” I replied.

He leaned in and gave me a kiss. Nothing special—just a peck on the lips. Even still, it ignited a fast-burning fire inside of me, a reminder of the night we shared together.

“I hope you didn’t have too much fun with the other flight attendant,” he suddenly said.

I gave a start. “Actually, we didn’t. We only got drinks together and…”

Luke waved a hand to cut me off. “I wasn’t trying to pry. None of my business. Besides, it’s not like the two of us are serious or anything. Yet.”

“Yet,” I agreed with a grin.

14

Taylor

“It’s real simple, boys,” I said to the three men standing around me at the Houston Airport private terminal. “It’s a thirty, maybe forty minute flight out to the gulf. I’ll circle the oil rig once or twice, give you a nice view. Let you snap some photos so you can expense the trip. Then, if conditions are cooperative, I’ll put the plane down on the surface. It’s a real calm day, so I think your chances are good for some deep sea fishing.”

The three men, all executives for an oil company dressed in fishing gear, grinned at each other. “And we can bring the cooler?” one of them asked.

I nodded and gave them my best smile. “Cooler, SCUBA gear, your mother-in-law. If it fits in the back, you can take it.”

They laughed at the joke, which was one I recycled often. These kinds of guys always did.

“Now then,” I clapped my hands together, “gather your gear and meet me out on the tarmac. My plane’s the fine lookin’ aircraft with…”

I trailed off as I saw a familiar face farther down the terminal. I placed her immediately: the woman from the Miami terminal the other day. A flight attendant for Gulf Airlines.

I hadn’t realized it until that very moment, but since that day she’d been stuck in my head like a bad idea. Seeing her here, in another city on another day, felt like a sign from the lord above. The kind of sign you’d see on the Vegas strip, bright neon and flashing.

And I didn’t even know her name.

My smile disappeared as she shifted to the left and I saw who she was talking to. I didn’t know the tall, dark-haired man personally, but I recognized him as one of the pilots who worked for...

My hackles went up as I saw Bernard Langston himself come striding out of the executive lounge. He said something to the two of them, then walked out of the building.

“Are we ready to go, Captain Hawkins?” one of the oil execs asked.

I forced a smile back onto my face. “I’ve gotta take care of one thing real quick. Collect all your gear and I’ll meet you back here in a minute.”

I walked away before they could respond, my boots clicking on the shiny white floor of the private terminal. The pilot she was with disappeared back into the executive lounge, while she turned toward the exit.

Now, I considered myself a gentleman. Women were beautiful creatures that deserved to be respected and worshiped as such. But I was only human, specifically aman, and it was impossible for me to ignore the way she looked in a pair of black yoga pants that clung to her curves like a second skin and leftnothingto the imagination. Between that and the simple shirt showing a little bit of midriff, she looked like she was headed to a coffee shop rather than a job interview.

I pushed aside my primal attraction and intercepted her before she reached the doors. “Almost didn’t recognize you without the Gulf Airlines uniform,” I said.

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