The Black Sheep and the English Rose Page 9

  “Have you met her? The Queen, I mean?” he asked, eyebrows climbing halfway up his forehead.

  Felicity ignored the aggrieved glances of his coworker, who was clearly embarrassed by his outburst, but fortunately was forced to duck away to answer a ringing phone. Felicity knew that this was her only chance, so she turned all of her attention on the young man in front of her, who had no name plate on. More was the pity. “We’ve met on several occasions,” Felicity said, this time quite truthfully. She had graced a number of royal function guest lists, as well, but her attendance with the Queen had been limited to long receiving lines and very brief curtsies. “She’s quite awe-inspiring.”

  “I bet,” he gushed. “Do you know any other knights?”

  “I’ve met my fair share, yes. Mostly I just need to reconnect with this particular one.” She leaned farther forward and braced her arms on the counter, pushing her advantage as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “To be perfectly honest, Sir John can be quite the scoundrel, and I’m very much afraid my friend Julia will fall prey to his rather finely honed charms. She’s not quite…worldly enough, if you take my meaning.”

  “I thought she seemed pretty sharp,” the agent said, so entranced by Felicity’s let’s-gossip chumminess that he seemed to forget what he was letting on. “I overheard them discussing something when they walked in, and she wasn’t letting him walk over her, that’s for certain. Although she did let him do the talking when it came to setting up their flight.”

  “See?” She threw up her hands in mock disgust. “Here we were supposed to fly out together, a girlfriends-only European weekend in the offing, and he’s already got her head all turned around. I’m just afraid what else he might get turned around once he gets her twenty thousand feet up.”

  “She didn’t seem to be that big a pushover to me,” the agent told her, trying to reassure her.

  Felicity wrung her hands. “When it comes to business, she’s a shark, but as her best friend, I know her history with men, and trust me, she loses all common sense. Sir John is way out of her league, and I’ll simply never forgive myself if I don’t at least warn her as to what she’s getting herself into.”

  The young man looked over his shoulder, to where his coworker had disappeared into an adjoining office, then back to Felicity, clearly torn. “I wish I could help you, but even if I told you what hangar they were using, you’d never get there in time.”

  “If she leaves the States with him—”

  The agent darted another quick look over his shoulder, then quickly shook his head at Felicity, his expression quite earnest, as if trying to signal her in some way.

  “They’re not leaving the States?”

  He smiled, looking relieved that she’d picked up on his oh-so-clever signal.

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you for doing what you could. I appreciate it.”

  “I—I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” he stammered, obviously a little overcome by her touching him.

  “It’s more than I had. Cheers.” Felicity squeezed his arm, then quickly turned and headed toward the door.

  “Cheers!” the agent called out behind her.

  She didn’t have to look far for Finn. He was presently running toward her in a long, loping stride. He had the natural kind of athleticism a person could only be born with. Any other time, she’d have taken pleasure in watching him move. She hurried toward him.

  “I tracked down two flights, both leaving in the next forty-five minutes. Then nothing till morning. Nothing international tonight.”

  “They’re not flying out of the country. I got that much. Was one of them to San Francisco?”

  He shook his head. “Detroit, and Dallas.”

  “Maybe they’re making a stopover for gas midway. Did you get a peek at the passengers for either flight?”

  “I don’t think either of those flights are theirs. I think they’ve already taken off. There were three flights out in the past hour.”

  Felicity swore under her breath, then noticed Finn was grinning. “What could possibly be amusing?”

  “One of those flights was to San Francisco. It left about ten minutes before we got here.”

  Her eyes widened. “Then what are we standing here for? We should go back into the office and arrange something with whoever can get us up in the air first. I’ve managed to build some rapport with the agent in there. I’m sure for the right price, we can find someone to fly us out of here tonight.” She turned around to head back to the office. “If nothing else is available, we can go commercial and take a red-eye shuttle out.”

  “Already done,” he told her, snagging her elbow, and neatly turned her back around. “We leave in forty-five minutes.”

  She gave him a surprised look. “Quite certain of yourself. What if I’d come out and said it was Paris?”

  “Flight plans can be cancelled.” He grinned. “Your faith in me is touching. You could give a guy a complex, you know.”

  She couldn’t help it; she glanced down, then quickly back up. “I hardly think that will ever be a concern of yours.”

  His grin only broadened, and made her quickly shift the subject back on topic. “Besides, you’d have to care what people think to develop a complex. And if you were so damn clever out here being one of the boys with your fellow adrenaline jockeys, then why did you leave me in there, making googly eyes at that poor young man, when you knew all along—”

  “I was coming to your rescue when you hustled out the door. And never underestimate the potential future help of the freshly googly eyed. I’m sure, along with Brian, he’ll be your devoted fan for life. You never know when you might need a car or another last minute flight. They could come in handy at some point.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she was thinking that she wished Finn was as easily “googled” as the young agent had been. She wasn’t used to dealing with someone as sharp as he was. Hell, she wasn’t used to dealing with a partner at all. “Which one is our hangar?”

  “About fifty yards, that way,” he said, nodding. “We’ll be about an hour or so behind them, depending on the weather between here and the West Coast.”

  “And when we land? Private flight, small airfield means they’ll easily be out of the airport by the time we land.”

  He pulled her closer, until she was almost flush up against him. She shouldn’t allow him the familiarity, but he was already talking before she could convince the rest of her body that she didn’t want to be so deeply into his personal space. Mostly because it was a lie. And she was a terrible liar.

  “We can plot and strategize once we’re in the air. Right now, I’m more interested in finding something to eat before we take off.”

  “I couldn’t possibly,” she said, pressing her hand to her stomach.

  “You have a fear of flying?”

  She gave him an admonishing look. “Why do you say it like that? Like you couldn’t believe me capable of such a weakness.”

  “It wasn’t that. It’s just that you do an inordinate amount of flying, so it would seem to be something you’d have adapted to by now.”

  “I don’t fear flying. I enjoy it, actually.”

  “So…” Then he smiled as understanding dawned. “You’re nervous.” He said it with something akin to marvel in his tone. As if it were even more improbable than her having a relatively normal issue such as fear of flying.

  She tried to take it as a compliment, that he saw her as that indomitable. She would never tell him the truth, which was that despite the nerves of steel sometimes required by someone in her moonlighting profession, she was just like anyone else. Susceptible to doubt and insecurity, still vulnerable as the next person. “Are you so certain of success in this that you can honestly say you’re not nervous?”

  “I’m…concerned. And I certainly am geared to do whatever it takes to make sure we succeed. But my stomach isn’t in knots over our eventual success, no.”

  Must be nice, she thought, but didn’t give
him the satisfaction of saying it out loud. She’d been working privately for MI-8 for three years past now, and had handled a number of cases for them quite successfully, but she still got butterflies when things got intense. Having Finn stare at her like the famished man he was, with her in the role of juicy drumstick, wasn’t helping matters any. “If you’ll point me to the plane, I’ll go settle in before takeoff. Will they have tea or water?”

  “No in-flight service on last minute charters.” He drew her a bit closer. “Unless I can talk you into considering dessert.”

  “We haven’t even had a proper dinner,” she said. She smacked at his hand when he slid one past the small of her back. “And your fixation with dessert is becoming wearisome.”

  He laughed. She really was a terrible liar.

  “I believe you were the one to first mention it.”

  “Well, I was preparing for battle then and feeling my oats a bit.”

  “And now? We have a transcontinental flight ahead of us.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Much plotting and strategizing to be done.”

  “Hardly the same thing,” she replied coolly, though her body temperature was anything but. She was envisioning all sorts of things that could happen over a long, late night flight across the country. None of them designed to cool her off.

  “The hangar is just that way,” he said. “Number nineteen. I’ll be back before we take off.”

  Given the nature of their banter, the state of his pants for the better part of the past few hours, and his tenacity, she was wary of his seemingly easy acquiescence. “See that you are.”

  He raised his brows, but his grin didn’t abate a whit. “Why, yes, Your Royal Highness.”

  “I’m just saying that there is a lot at stake here, and I won’t have the pilot waiting around while you find yourself a burger and chips.”

  “The pilot will wait for me.”

  She merely gave him a challenging look.

  “Stacy has worked with Trinity before. She likes us.”

  Felicity scowled. “Only you.”

  Finn merely nodded. “I do have that kind of luck.”

  She went to slip her arm free of his grasp, very determined to walk away with her chin up and integrity intact. What did she care who he flirted with and what he did when she wasn’t looking?

  He neatly turned her right back around and flush up against him. “Would it take that adorable pout off your face if I told you Stacy was fifty-two and a grandmother of three?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He slid his arm along her back and snuggled her between his legs. “Have I ever mentioned that your queen-of-the-realm tone really turns me on?”

  “I’m fairly certain a stiff breeze could do the same,” she said, but the way her body immediately responded to the hard length of him made her retort less than stinging.

  He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, which shouldn’t have charmed her nearly as much as it did. “Save me a window seat.” Then he was gone, climbing into the limo. She opened her mouth to warn him that she’d given her driver instructions to wait for her, but saved her breath. She spat out only a few very inelegant swear words when her car—with her driver—smoothly pulled away from the curb moments later. “Why?” she muttered. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

  She headed off to find Hangar 19, determined not to think about Finn, his luck, or what kind of dessert he might dream up, thirty thousand feet in the air.

  Chapter 7

  Finn hopped the stairs into the plane two at a time, then ducked inside, nodding to the pilot as he did. “Hey, Steve. Thanks for waiting.”

  The older man just smiled and tipped his fingers to his forehead. “Ready when you are.”

  Finn grinned. “I’m always ready.”

  Steve just chuckled, shook his head, then closed the door to the cockpit. Finn shuffled the bags in his hands, then made his way into the main section of the small private jet.

  Felicity was seated in the central area, where there was a large round table surrounded by four cushy leather chairs. There were also seats along either side of the plane, situated next to the windows. He happened to know that in the back, there was a small private meeting area, a fairly nicely appointed bathroom, and a bedroom, which was pretty much all bed.

  He smiled at Felicity, who had both her arms and legs crossed, and didn’t look particularly happy with him. She glared at the closed cockpit door, then back at Finn. “A grandmother, huh?”

  “I didn’t say it was Stacy, just that it could have been. As it happens, Steve doesn’t play for your team either.”

  She tried to maintain her frosty expression, but he saw her fight the smile. “No wonder I couldn’t get him to move the plane one hangar over.”

  Finn shoved the bags into a bin under the table and extended his hand to her. “We need to buckle in for takeoff; then we can get cozy.”

  “Cozy?”

  “Here,” he said, motioning to the table. “No reason to stay shackled into those little seats when we can fly in comfort.”

  “Yes, further shackling I could do without.”

  Finn barked a laugh, and took her offered hand in his. She was such an interesting mix of blue blood and street smart, he never knew quite what to expect from her. He drew her up, but resisted the temptation to pull her directly into his arms. They had a five-hour flight ahead of them. Pacing was everything.

  “Window or aisle?” he asked.

  “Either is fine with me.”

  He led her to a window seat and waited until she got comfortable, but rather than taking the seat next to her, he sat next to the window on the opposite side of the plane. She looked surprised, and perhaps even a little disappointed. He smiled to himself and buckled up.

  They were rolling toward the runway when she finally spoke. “So, I take it you know Steve? Lucky coincidence he was here.”

  “I fly in and out of here a lot, so I know several of the pilots.”

  “You always fly privately? Why not have your own plane?”

  “I fly my own helicopter. We have several. In fact, one of them is parked on the roof of a certain hotel in town, as we speak.”

  “I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me.”

  “Meaning?”

  Her lips did curve slightly. “You do like your toys.”

  He tried very hard not to look at the bag stowed under the table. “Work hard, play harder. After all, what’s the point of work if you never get to appreciate play?”

  “Some would say their work is their play.”

  “Some would. Is that how you view your…occupation?”

  She looked at him and parroted an earlier response, slightly modified. “My work for the Foundation is very involved and rewarding, but I don’t consider it play.”

  “I wasn’t referring to that occupation.”

  She looked back out the window as they taxied around to prepare for takeoff. She was smiling. “I know.”

  Finn was just about done with the enigmatic responses and Mona Lisa smiles. He just couldn’t put the two sides of her together. She was understandably proud of one career…and so blatantly unrepentant about the other.

  “Why didn’t you invest in a private plane?” she asked.

  “Too much to maintain. It’s easier to just keep a few pilots on call and work things out when needed. I know it comes as a shock, but we still fly commercial a lot of the time.”

  “So do I.”

  He looked surprised; he couldn’t help it. She laughed.

  The pilot interrupted them with instructions for takeoff, and they fell silent as the plane accelerated, then lifted into the night sky. Finn loved this part, leaving the pull of the earth and gliding freely into the empty skies. He’d gotten a pilot’s license when he was quite young, but it had been only a handful of years since he’d gotten his license for the helicopter. It was still a thrill, taking off in that thing, like he was flying himself, free of restrictio
ns.

  He glanced over at Felicity. Her hands were relaxed on the arm rests, and she was peering out of the window. No fear of flying. He wondered what she’d think of taking a ride in his new little black bird. He imagined it, taking off on a clear spring day, showing off a little, earning a few eye rolls from her, but also, hopefully a laugh or two, and an honest smile. He wondered what that would take.

  Despite the intimacy they’d shared, he had no idea who she really was. Her background was so intensely privileged, far more so than his State-side version of the same. Her education was impeccable. She was sharp, smart, fearless. Which was both impressive and, he imagined, potentially quite intimidating when she wanted it to be. But that was the part of her he knew, the part the whole world knew, if they cared to. What he wanted to know—was suddenly dying to know—was who she was, and what she’d be like on a regular, everyday level. Then he laughed at himself. Felicity Jane Trent didn’t have a regular, everyday level.

  Still…he tried to picture her back at his home in Virginia. Dalton Downs had a lavish main house, stables, and enough acreage to satisfy an earl or two, and yet he really couldn’t bring her into focus there. Partly because he’d worked very hard to remove the lord-of-the-manor vibe of the place after his father had died and left it to him. His partner, Mac, had moved his significant other, Kate, onto the property over a year ago, along with her school for seriously challenged young children. His other partner, Rafe, who typically involved himself with high-powered supermodel types, had apparently fallen for Kate’s new head horse trainer. He couldn’t wait to get back and witness that interesting union in action.

  But he couldn’t see Felicity Jane being in tow with him.