“I am exactly where I want to be.” She’d forgotten that the Yanks who flew with them risked their own citizenship.
What a luxury it would be to choose war, yet Jameson did.
“Then let’s get going before someone sees.” He gave her a heart-stopping grin, then disappeared into the seat behind her.
Moments later, the engine turned over, the propeller began to spin, and every bone in her body vibrated as they pulled out from their spot in the line of planes, headed for the runway. Thank God the engine was loud enough to block the sound of her pounding heart.
Next to joining the WAAF against her parents’ wishes, this was the most illicit thing she’d ever done. It might be the most illicit thing you’ll ever do. She held the thought close to her chest, where her hands currently gripped the harness. They turned to the right.
“You ready?” he asked through her radio.
She nodded, pressing her lips into a nervous line. She was really going to do this, fly off into the unknown with an American pilot she’d met last week. If that wasn’t the definition of reckless, she wasn’t sure what was.
The hum of the engine pitched higher as the plane hurtled down the bumpy runway, gaining speed just like her heart rate, and though she could see the fields rush by on either side of her, she couldn’t determine where the pavement ended. This was exhilarating, terrifying madness. The wind pricked her eyes and she blinked furiously, pulling the goggles down as the ground fell away.
Everything but her stomach leaped into the sky. That, she was certain, had remained on the ground. It settled as they gained altitude and she forced her breathing to steady and her muscles to ease, to relax long enough to take it all in.
It consumed her senses. The roar of the engine was dulled but not muted by her helmet, and the wind chilled her skin, but it was the view that took her breath away. The sun still clung to the sky, but she knew it would sink below the horizon soon. It was as if everything beneath them had become miniature…or they were giants. Either way, it was astonishing. She tried to carve every sensation into her memory so she could write it all down later, so she’d never be in danger of forgetting it, but just as she’d finished thinking of every word she would use to describe the landscape beneath, they were landing.
“Hold on for me,” Jameson said through the radio, and her heart raced. He handled the airplane like it was part of him, like flying through the air was as simple as raising his hand.
The ground rushed up beneath them, and he landed, jostling her on the bumpy terrain. The field wasn’t one she was familiar with, but it had seen its fair share of airplanes, if the tracks through the grass were any indication.
The plane rumbled as the engine died. Jameson appeared on her left, wearing a flush of wind on his cheeks and shoving his fingers through his hair.
“Can I help you out of that?” he asked, motioning to her harness.
“If I say no, will you feed me in the plane?” she teased, her lips curving upward.
“Yes.” The answer was instant.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry at the intensity in his eyes. “Please do. Help me, that is.” She tugged at her helmet first.
“Allow me.” His fingers brushed hers aside gently, and she tilted her chin to give him better access. He undid the helmet with a few quick motions, and she pulled it off as he started on the harness.
“My hair is all over the place,” she mused with a laugh, her hands rising to her abused curls. Her mother would have died of shock.
“You’re gorgeous.”
An ache unfurled in her chest, and their eyes locked as the last clasp of her harness came free. He meant it.
That ache sharpened. Oh God, what was this? Longing saturated the air, filling her lungs with every breath.
“Hungry?” he asked, breaking the silence but not the tension.
“Starved,” she replied.
…
His chest tightened at the look in her eyes, but he turned away and held out his hand, letting her adjust her harness-wrinkled dress with what privacy he could give her. He helped her out of the cockpit when she was ready, then jumped the last few feet off the back of the wing and offered his hands.
“I’ll catch you,” he promised.
“You’d better.” She smiled as she made her way down the wing, keeping one hand on the fuselage. Then she walked right into his arms, bracing her hands on the tops of his shoulders.
He gripped the curves of her hips as he slowly lowered her to the grass. He managed to keep his eyes on hers and not the dips and hollows of her frame, but his pulse kicked up at the feel of how perfect she felt under his hands, soft and warm, trim but not frail. This moment alone was worth the flight, the hours of preparation.
“Thank you,” she said as he released her, a slight catch in her breath.
Her hair was windswept and had been bullied in places by her helmet, and those slight imperfections made her seem touchable. Attainable. Gone was the polished officer who’d caught his eye, and here was a woman who very well might catch his heart.
He blinked at that thought—he wasn’t really a love-at-first-sight kind of guy, but he believed in attraction, chemistry, and even that little thing known as fate, and this felt like all three.
“Where are we?” she asked as he led her along the beaten-down path.
“Just a little north of the village.” He led her to the small clearing they’d made with the truck yesterday.
She gasped, covering her hands with her mouth, and he smiled. There was a small table with three chairs, set for an early dinner. He’d even managed to scrounge up a real tablecloth. The look on her face right now? The pure delight in her eyes made it worth every single favor he now owed to a half dozen guys in the 609.
“How did you do this?” She wandered toward the table.
“Magic.”
She tossed him a look over her shoulder, and he laughed.
“I might owe some of the guys a few favors. A lot of favors.” He tilted his head as she turned at the first chair. “I might not have a night off for a while.”
“And you did this all for me?” she asked as he pulled out her chair.
“Well, I had a couple other girls on the list just in case you turned me down,” he joked.
“I’d certainly hate to see it go to waste,” she deadpanned, pursing her lips. “Perhaps Mary would have obliged you.”
He paused with his hand on the chair, gauging her tone. He’d been flying with the Brits for months now, but he never could guess if they were joking or not.
“Oh, your face is priceless.” She laughed, and the sound was just as beautiful as she was. “Now tell me, are we expecting company?” She motioned toward the third chair.