One Night with the Rebel Billionaire. Trish Wylie
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for a moment, starting with something she’d read somewhere. ‘Basically it all centres around Newton’s idea that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.’
Then she ad-libbed, warming to her subject, ‘So you know when you let go of an inflated balloon and it flies all over the room? That’s kinda like thrust in an airplane engine; it propels the plane into the air…’ Unfolding an arm, she made a sweep with one hand to highlight the ‘plane into the air’ part; quite pleased with the analogy until she found him studying her with hooded eyes.
His deep voice held an edge of barely concealed disgust. ‘When did you decide I was an idiot?’
Finding her mouth dry, Roane swallowed before coming back with a pathetically weak-voiced, ‘Short Neanderthal grunted answers might possibly have done it.’
‘I understand Newton’s theories.’
A nervous bubble of laughter formed in her chest, but with effort she managed to keep her reaction to a teasing smile. ‘Maybe you could explain them to me some time. I just keep the thing in the air. I’ve never felt the need to know the science that goes with it.’
She batted her lashes innocently.
‘I’m sure to get your pilot’s licence you had to be a step or two up from dumb blonde. How long have you been flying?’
‘A long time—and I haven’t killed anyone…’ she paused for effect, shrugging one shoulder ‘…yet.’
The fleeting smile twitched the corner of his mouth; brown softening the green of his eyes. For a brief second, to Roane’s astonishment, there was even a hint of deep laughter lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, suggesting he laughed more often than she’d had evidence of so far. Leaving her wondering what it would take to make him laugh out loud—without holding back the way he was.
She really wanted to hear that sound.
But the fleeting smile was gone as fast as it arrived. When she studied him he studied her right back and then jerked his head in the direction of the controls. ‘Run me through the basics.’
‘Of actual flying rather than the theory of flight?’
‘Yes.’
Roane sucked her bottom lip in and let it go with a slight ‘pop’, the words coming out before she could stop them. ‘It’s a control thing for you, isn’t it?’
Adam blinked lazily, ‘Could be.’
She couldn’t really work him out, and it was disconcerting. But then it wasn’t as if she were all that worldly-wise. She had met a fairly diverse selection of people in her time, but Adam? Adam was something new. Adam was fascinating to her if she were honest about it, which she wasn’t about to be. At least not out loud.
She adjusted her mike, and when she spoke she heard the distorted version of her own voice echoed louder in her ears. ‘On the floor are pedals that operate the brakes and rudder. Push the right pedal, the rudder turns to the right. Push the left pedal, the rudder turns left. With me so far?’
Adam had dipped his chin and moved his knees apart so he could see the floor. But when she asked the question he glanced sideways, his tone still dry. ‘I’ll try and keep up.’
Roane smiled, turning away to check the readouts while she continued, ‘The pilot controls the airplane by using a control wheel—the stick. This lets you move the elevators on the tail and the ailerons on the wings, which in turn move the airplane. Still with me?’
A deep sigh was magnified by the mike.
Still smiling, Roane shifted positions so she was leaning her upper body closer. ‘Hands on the stick.’
Adam swiped his large palms across his thighs before lifting them and placing them tight on either side of the stick, his knuckles white. So with a roll of her eyes Roane couldn’t seem to stop herself from asking, ‘Jeez, Adam, would you grab hold of a woman like that?’
He shot her a sideways glare.
‘Let me know when you want to find out.’ He flexed his fingers and looked down at the controls. ‘Keep going.’
The throwaway invitation sent a thrumming pulse of anticipation to the centre of her body, even though Roane knew instinctively it had been a knee-jerk reaction to her runaway tongue. ‘Towards you the nose comes up—away the nose goes down. But I warn you, you touch the throttle at any point I may have to kill you myself before we hit the ground…’
He swallowed. ‘And that’s where exactly?’
Roane somehow managed not to laugh. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate it, even if she did tell him her urge to giggle was partly because she was finding the chink in his armour so humanizing. Adam wasn’t the kind of man who would like being told vulnerability was appealing, was he? So instead she reached for his large hands, her smaller ones nowhere near able to cover them as she curled her fingers around his.
‘Between us.’ She kept her gaze focused on their hands when he turned to look for the throttle, the heat of his skin beneath her cool fingers mesmerizing beyond belief to her. What would hands that size feel like on her body? Images immediately flickered through her brain in answer to the silent question, so that when she spoke her voice sounded embarrassingly breathless to her.
‘There. That’s it. A little forwards the nose drops…a little back…and…erm…’
She’d made the mistake of glancing up at him. When she found his face disconcertingly close to hers she faltered; his intense gaze focused on her mouth as she damped her lips. The man really did have the most ridiculously thick eyelashes.
‘The—uh…the nose comes up…’ She swallowed and forced air into her aching chest. Then his scent hit her. She’d been aware of it since they’d closed the cabin doors, but up close…up close and with the heat of his skin to magnify it. Dear heaven…
Roane was no expert, but she was a long-time fan of scented candles. There were notes of citrus in there, maybe blackcurrant…and then there was a hint of sandalwood, a suggestion of mulberry and just possibly a whisper of amber. It was the most enticing combination…
She breathed deep and practically sighed with contentment as she exhaled.
He was staring at her.
And he continued studying her with silent intensity, leaving Roane floundering. ‘Okay, well, erm…left is left and right is right. Basically…’
The smile started in his eyes. ‘Said that too…’
Well, how was she supposed to concentrate with him sitting as close as he was, looking the way he did and smelling as good as he was? Letting go of his hands, she sat back in her seat.
‘Don’t move the stick a minute.’
The change was so smooth it would have taken an expert to notice it. Then Roane was in control again. If Adam was seeking control by asking for the impromptu flying lesson, then she could understand that, she supposed. Having control of her plane again immediately made her feel better. He might be able to take possession of her body’s reactions simply by breathing in and out. But by distracting herself with the everyday business of flying Roane could focus her mind elsewhere. She could.
‘Just relax and feel my movements through the stick. That’s it. Smoothly…’
Suddenly the control she had took on sexual undertones for her. She’d never been in a relationship with a man where she’d had the courage to be one of those women who took control. She’d never asked to be touched a particular way or in a certain place; nothing that might have made the experience better for her. Nope, Roane’s method had always been more along the lines of making approving mumbles and hoping he got the message. But in her plane, where she was totally in control of her environment, even giving instructions to a man like Adam Bryant seemed like the most natural thing in the world to her.