A Great Kisser Page 2

  “Ho-how do you know where to la-land?” she called out, fingers digging even more deeply into the already deep indentations on the armrests as they bounce-bounce-bounced along. “How can y-you see?”

  “Radar. Don’t worry,” he said, tossing a quick smile over his shoulder. “I’ve landed in worse. Much worse.” He seemed almost happy about the challenge.

  Great, she had the crazy pilot with a death wish. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what “much worse” could consist of, given that, at the moment, her teeth felt like they were cracking from constant impact. A mouth piece would have come in handy, but who knew flying had become a full contact sport?

  Just then the plane dropped, then dipped to one side then the other, causing her to rap her head against the window. She added helmet to her new list of must-have carry-on items. “How much longer?”

  But the pilot didn’t respond. He was too busy flipping switches and talking on his headset to someone on the ground, trying to land the plane. Which should have instilled all kinds of confidence but fell way short.

  She was debating on whether to keep her eyes open or shut, when the pilot called back, “Hang on, we’re coming in.”

  “Hang on? To what?”

  That question was answered a moment later when the wheels touched down, then bounced up, then touched down, then bounced again, jerking her body around like a rag doll strapped to a roller coaster. She grabbed the seat back in front of her with one hand, braced her feet against the bottom of it, gripped the armrest with her other hand, and held on for dear life. Which, in this instance, was not simply a cliché. The plane bounced and jerked for a few hundred more years, then finally stayed on the ground and eventually rolled to a stop.

  She wanted to first kiss the pilot, then the ground, but couldn’t seem to pry her cold, stiff fingers from the seat and armrest to do anything but stare dazedly and give a silent and quite fervent prayer of thanks.

  “Sorry for the rough commute. It’s that time of year.” He slid a compact umbrella out of a side pocket and handed it back to her. “Here, you’ll want this. It’s a bit fierce out there.”

  Now that the droning engine noise had subsided, and her ears had stopped ringing, she identified the new noise she was hearing. It sounded like thunder, but was just the heavy drumming of rain on the body of the airplane. “What are you going to use?”

  “I’m fine. Hope you enjoy your stay in Colorado.” The pilot grinned and sketched a quick salute as she took the umbrella and gathered her things.

  “They’ll have your bag in the terminal shortly,” he said, shifting to stand long enough to open the mechanism that opened the door, which lowered into its own staircase.

  “Okay,” she said, rising on shaky legs. “Thanks.”

  He lifted a hand in a quick wave, then seated himself once again in the cockpit and turned back to his wide panel of instruments. A few seconds later, he was back on the radio checking flight plans, it sounded like. Just another day at the office for him.

  Lauren hefted her laptop bag and purse strap over her shoulder, then positioned herself so she could open the umbrella outside the door. The wind almost yanked it from her hands, but she grabbed tightly at the last second, barely keeping herself from making a Mary Poppins exit, smack onto the tarmac. Carefully, she exited down the stairs and headed toward the small building that, she assumed, was the terminal.

  It was raining so hard, with the wind whipping even harder, that she didn’t even attempt to take a look at her surroundings. Not that she could have seen much anyway, but she’d been looking forward to seeing the Rocky Mountains. All she could do, however, was focus on the wide rivers of water cascading across the paved tarmac as she skipped and hopped her way to the double set of glass doors.

  Just as she went to reach for them they swung open for her, and a large male hand snaked out and gripped her elbow. The action startled her into loosening her grip on the umbrella, which was immediately snatched away by the wind and went flying back over her head toward the tarmac. She turned instinctively to see where it went only to get hit with a full swath of rain, which immediately plastered her hair to her head and her clothes to her body, along with fogging up her glasses. She was, for all intents and purposes, blind. She’d never considered herself much of a screamer or a squealer, but she might have done a little of both.

  The man holding her elbow tugged her in out of the rain.

  “Thank you,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry—my umbrella—”

  “Marco picked it up,” came a very deep voice with a bit of a rough edge to it, like maybe he’d just woken up.

  She was still blinking water out of her eyes and he still had a hold on her elbow. Her other hand was clutching her purse and laptop bag to her side in a death grip. Everything was just a blur. “Marco?”

  “Ground crew. Here, let me take those.”

  Her elbow was abruptly released, which sent her a bit off balance, then her bags were suddenly lifted from her shoulder and slipped out of her death grip as if her hands were made from putty, sending her staggering a step in the other direction. Both her feet slipped a little as the smooth soles of her shoes were not made for…well, any of this. And then his hands were on her again, both elbows this time, and, and…well, the entire last sixty seconds had been so discombobulating, for a person who was never discombobulated, that she didn’t know quite what to do. She blinked at him through wet ropes of hair and fogged glasses, arms still akimbo as he wrestled her to a balanced position.

  “Bad day?”

  It was the dry amusement lacing his tone that gave her the focus she so mercifully needed. She tugged her elbows from his grip, as if all this was suddenly very much his fault, but instead of being the liberating, independence-returning move she was so desperately seeking, the action only served to send her wheeling backward. Which resulted in being caught, once again, even more humiliatingly than before, by his very big, very strong, and very steadying hands.

  “Thank you,” she managed through gritted teeth. She carefully removed one elbow from his grip, not chancing leaving his steadying powers all at once, and scraped her hair from her forehead and removed her fogged glasses from her face. Finally able to see, she looked up…only to be thrown completely off balance all over again. But, this time, her feet were totally flat and stable, on hard, steady ground. “You can let me go now,” she managed in a choked whisper.

  He was just above average height, probably not even six feet, but given she topped the height chart at five-foot-six, and that was in three-inch heels, he was very tall to her. But it wasn’t the height part that commanded the attention. Nor was it really the square jaw, the thick neck, broad shoulders, very nicely muscled arms and chest that were obvious even through the old sweatshirt and T-shirt he wore. The thick, sun-bleached brown hair might have been a teensy part of it, but mostly it was the piercing blue eyes—truly, they pierced—staring at her from his weathered, deeply tanned face.

  Crinkles fanned from the corners of those eyes, and there were grooves bracketing either side of his mouth, but she didn’t know if that was from squinting into the sun or smiling a lot. He wasn’t smiling now, so it was hard to tell. But he was still holding on to her, and it was that, plus those look-right-through-you eyes, that were keeping her from reclaiming the rest of her much-needed balance.

  “I’m—fine. Really. Thank you. Again.”

  He held her gaze for another seemingly endless moment, then gently let her go. “No worries.”

  “I, uh, need to rent a car.” She was normally calm and cool under fire. It was why Todd had been so impressed and promoted her up the ranks of his campaign staff so quickly. It was also why she’d been one of the first ones the senator had hired to his permanent staff when he’d won his bid for office. If he could see her now, he wouldn’t even recognize her. She didn’t recognize her. Of course, the fact that she probably looked like a drowned cat didn’t help matters. “If you could just point me in the right direction�
��” I will slink off and pretend we never met.

  “You don’t need a car.”

  She looked up at him again, and though she’d never particularly thought of herself as vain, she’d have given large sums for the use of a comb, a tissue, and a handheld mirror. Okay, so a full salon makeover probably wouldn’t have hurt at that moment, but her pride wouldn’t have minded at least a brief attempt at restoration. “Where I’m headed is about two and a half hours from here, and though it’s probably not all that farfetched to think they probably rent horses here, I’m thinking the locals, not to mention the horse, will be a lot safer if I get a nice SUV instead.”

  His lips quirked a little then, and her pulse actually did this zippy jumpy thing. And it felt kind of good—in a somewhat startling, disconcerting kind of way. However—reality check—she hadn’t forgotten that her appearance was highly unlikely to provoke the same reaction in him. Besides, she was not here on vacation. She was here on a very serious mission that had absolutely nothing to do with having a vacation fling of any kind. Not that she was the fling type. Or that men ever flung themselves at her, vacation or otherwise, for her to know. But, still.

  “Given the weather, it would probably be as uncomfortable for the horse, but that’s not why I said you don’t need a ride. You don’t need one, because I’m your ride.”

  God help her, she looked him up and down before she could stop herself. He was her ride? If only. She jerked her gaze back to his, thankful to find it just as unreadable as before. “I—I don’t know what you mean. Who would send—” She broke off abruptly. Her mother, that’s who. Her mother, who, as of six months ago, had turned into a complete and total stranger, running off with a man she’d barely met, moving her entire life across country to the middle of absolute nowhere, all because of some supposed fairy-tale romance Lauren suspected was anything but.

  The mother she’d had six months ago would have never dreamed of interfering in her daughter’s personal life. Talk about it? Yes. Encourage her to get out and date more? Or at all? All the time. But actually fix her up? No. But her mother today? Lauren had no idea what she might do. Or what her motives might be. Whatever the case, Lauren wasn’t having any part of it. “Please tell my mother that I appreciate her concern, but that I’d be more comfortable with my own transportation. I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time, truly, I am. And if it’s a matter of getting paid, I’ll take care of the tab. But, your services won’t be needed.” More’s the pity. She tried really hard not to look him over. One last time.

  His lips quirked again, as if they shared a private joke. And her pulse did that dippy, slow-down-speed-up thing. Which made no sense since she was pretty sure the joke was her.

  “There’s no tab. I’m here as a favor.”

  “Oh. Well…I really am sorry you went out of your way. Let me at least pay for your gas.”

  His smile quirked again. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Okay, then. If you’re sure. Thank you again for your trouble.” She picked up her bags from the short row of airport chairs he’d dropped them into and slung them again over her arm. He was still standing there, staring. “Did you…need anything else?”

  “Well, to be honest, I’d appreciate a ride back to Cedar Springs.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind. I’ll even drive, if you’d like to get some rest.”

  She was confused. “I thought you were supposed to drive me back. Why do you need a lift in my car?”

  “I flew.”

  “You…” She turned and looked back out through the doors to the small, single runway, then back to him. “You’re a pilot?”

  He nodded.

  She thought about his quirky smile…and her offer to pay for his gas. Good thing he hadn’t taken her up on that!

  “But unless we want to wait out this storm, which isn’t supposed to move out until sometime tomorrow, then the best alternative is to drive.” His eyes danced a little, crinkling the skin at the corners. “I seem to have left my horse at home.” Then he did smile. “He hates to fly.”

  She laughed before catching herself. “After today, I have to admit, I’m not much of a fan, either.”

  “You don’t like flying?”

  “Oh, flying is fine. But being tossed around like your plane is being used as the central piece in a cosmic game of foosball? That I’m not so fond of.”

  “Ah.” He shifted his weight and the penetrating stare was back. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what, exactly, is foosball?”

  “You’ve never played—seriously?”

  “Seriously.” And he said it so…seriously, it made her laugh again.

  “You know, I’m not sure I could explain it. You’ll have to look it up sometime.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  And she suddenly felt foolish again. “Right. So…which way to the rental counter?”

  He nodded his head toward the one and only counter in the small building. “It’s pretty much one-stop shopping here.”

  “Right.” Was she ever going to look less than a complete idiot around this man? And now she was stuck with him, in the close confines of a car for at least a couple of hours, maybe longer given the weather. But what could she do? He’d come all this way as a favor, presumably to her mother or the mayor, and had his offer to escort her rejected—despite the fact that he, apparently, couldn’t have escorted her anyway given the raging storm. Still, she could hardly say no to this, too. “How were you planning on getting me to Cedar Springs?”

  “My plan was to fly you, but the storm came in faster than predicted. I thought we’d be back before it blew in.”

  “So…we were going to wait it out?”

  “I thought it best to let you know I was here, then we’d figure it out from there.”

  She’d been on the outs with her mother for months now, which was both painful and frustrating as hell, given how close they’d been B.A.—Before Arlen. And if she was being stubborn there, she felt it was well earned. But that was no excuse to take it out on her chauffeur here. He was being a Good Samaritan, doing a favor. Even if, from what she’d determined about their mayor was true, she could have told him he was likely just being used.

  “So, we’re renting a car anyway. Why didn’t you just say so?”

  “Because we’re not. Wait here,” he said.

  “I’m perfectly capable of—”

  But he’d already taken off. However, instead of going to the counter, he’d headed toward the doors leading back to the tarmac. “Don’t rent anything,” he called back, then he disappeared through the doors, and though her shortsightedness kept her from seeing clearly, she could make out him ducking down and running over to the big dome-shaped airplane hangar.

  She looked at the row of seats and thought about collapsing into one of them—how nice it would be to sit in something that remained steady—but opted for a trip to the bathroom instead. Vanity might not be a driving force in her life, but she was human enough, woman enough, to at least feel the need to assess the severity of the damage and mitigate it as best as possible. After all, it was precisely because she was good at doing exactly those things that she got paid a rather handsome salary. Or had. Surely, if she could avert media probes and spin-doctor live interview slip-ups for her boss, she could do basic repair to her appearance.

  One step into the small bathroom and a peek into the mirror after sliding her carefully wiped glasses back on proved that even she might not be up to this particular task. “Wow.” Up until three days ago, she had been slated to appear at a charity fund-raiser in October on Halloween. And to think she’d been worried about what she’d wear as a costume. “Zombie, risen from the dead. And—bonus!—you don’t even need a rental costume.” It was almost a shame she wouldn’t be going now.

  She turned on the water out of habit, but really, it would take a team of Georgetown’s finest hairdressers-to-the-Hill to even make a dent in the mess. She ran a paper towel under
the stream anyway and did her best to remove the raccoon-eye mascara streaks. There was nothing she could do about the freckle exposure because her foundation was completely gone. She’d been covering them for years. Once she learned that it was hard enough to be taken seriously as a woman, harder still as a very short woman—especially when she was actually built like one—she’d quickly figured out that looking like the “all American girl next door” only further undermined whatever advantages she might have had left. Katie Couric might be able to pull it off, but not so much with Lauren Matthews as it turned out.

  Using a comb from her purse, she managed to make her hair go from drowned cat to merely wet and stringy. “Why am I bothering?” After all, given that neither her mother nor her mother’s spouse could be bothered to come to the airport to pick her up, who she was trying to impress, she had no idea.

  A vision of the sun-streaked, blue-eyed Marlboro man waiting for her in the airport lobby swam through her mind. Except, he’d already seen her at her Halloween worst, so no point in even going there.

  Sighing, she packed up her comb, straightened her damp jacket and slacks as best she could, and marched out of the bathroom, shoulders squared, chin high. Just because she looked like Rocky Mountain roadkill was no reason to act embarrassed.

  “Feel better?”

  She about half jumped out of her skin as she whirled around to find Rugged Outdoorsman Guy leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door.

  She smiled ruefully, and just owned her fate. “As I’m sure you can see, nothing short of a guest appearance on Extreme Makeover is going to improve things much. I’ll feel better when I get to Cedar Springs and check into the first room that has a nice, hot shower.”

  She could have sworn the pupils in his eyes flared a little bit, and her pulse fluttered accordingly. It was probably a trick of the light.

  “Your chariot awaits,” he said. He swept his hand toward the doors on the opposite side of the terminal from where she’d entered.