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As he walked past the corner of the hangar to where his small plane was parked, he could finally see Madison with the pilot, Tom Grant.
“You agreed to fly me to Colorado, Mr. Grant,” she went on in that imperious tone that worked like sandpaper on the nerves.
“It’s a long flight, Miz St. John, and—”
“You want more money.” It wasn’t a question. Her soft voice had dropped lower and brought to mind the warning growl of a cat.
“No, ma’am,” Tom said, shaking his head as if he were anxious to correct her impression. “Just that the wife decided she hadn’t seen much of me this week and won’t stand to have me gone most of the weekend after those other folks canceled. Said she wanted me home.”
“How sweet.” Madison’s soft remark was poisonous, and Tom shifted nervously from one foot to the other. Line could imagine the look she was giving the man, though he could only see her profile as he passed several feet away from where they stood.
Tom caught sight of him then and gave a quick wave to get his attention. “Linc Coryell’s right over there, Miz St. John. Heard he was flyin’ to Aspen—hey, Linc!”
Madison turned to look in the direction Tom Grant indicated. The pilot broke into a trot and rushed to intercept Lincoln Coryell. As she watched, Tom jerked a thumb in her direction, said something too low for her to hear, then turned to hurry toward the airstrip office.
Incensed that the pilot had distracted her and neatly escaped, she stiffened when she felt Linc level his gaze on her. He was wearing a pair of mirrored sunglasses. The shade of his black Stetson would have made it impossible to read the expression in his dark eyes from this distance, but the sunglasses projected an aloofness that made him appear unapproachable.
She saw his mouth tighten before he glanced away and walked on. Unwilling to let this opportunity go by, she started after him. Her boots thumped smartly on the concrete as she tried to catch up.
Though she had an aversion to men like Lincoln Coryell—blunt, macho and uncivilized—she could endure a few hours of his presence if he could get her to Aspen. Instinct rather than past experience told her he was one of the few men in this part of Texas who was completely unimpressed by either her name or her wealth.
But then, Lincoln Coryell wasn’t a man to show deference to many. He was too hard and rough-edged and rich to be intimidated, and though the former cowboy was probably more wealthy than she was, his lack of education—she’d heard he hadn’t finished high school—and his ranch hand background excluded him from being a close member of the small society of elites in and around Coulter City.
She suspected a man like him could never be bought or finessed, and the only intimidation that would come into play with him was the strange intimidation she felt suddenly.
She pasted a faint smile on her face to signal the friendliness she needed to project, but the necessity of doing so made her grit her teeth. She could find another flight, but probably not until tomorrow. It was only because tomorrow might be too late that she even considered using charm.
“Mr. Coryell?” she said as she finally caught up with him, “I understand you’re flying to Colorado.”
Those mirrored sunglasses flashed toward her briefly as they walked along. She forced herself to smile a bit wider while he was looking down at her, but the effort felt more like an awkward twitch. The sunglasses flashed again with a dismissive turn of his head.
Nettled, she walked faster to keep up with his long stride. “I’m more than willing to pay,” she added, struggling to keep her voice reasonable and pleasant. She felt the snub when he didn’t respond. Surprise made her slow her steps. When he continued on, she hesitated, then hurried after him, appalled by the indignity of having to pursue him.
“I need to get to Colorado by evening, Mr. Coryell,” she called, her frustration mounting higher as she was forced to practically chase the man. Feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment, she sent a swift glance toward the office and hangar to see if anyone was watching.
In the next moment, she crashed into Linc’s back. He’d slowed when she wasn’t looking and she’d blundered into him. She gasped and jumped back as if she’d been burned.
And she had been. The heat of his big body and his sun-warmed clothes had scorched her somehow and it was all she could do not to check herself for damage. But he’d turned toward her and his handsome mouth was set in a no-nonsense line that warned her he was irritated.
Knowing she had to be polite if she had any hope of persuading him to fly her to Colorado, she forced another smile that felt as twitchy and unnatural as the other one had. “Pardon me, Mr. Coryell. I didn’t expect you to slow down so... abruptly.”
Her apology automatically implied that he was in the wrong for stopping, which he was. But he didn’t take blame well. She could tell by the hardening of his firm jaw.
Compelled to recover from her faux pas, she was forced to add, “I wasn’t watching where I was going for a moment.” She hesitated, giving herself a moment to conceal her aversion to apologizing twice. “Pardon me.”
She hadn’t realized how tall and broad-shouldered Lincoln Coryell was until she was standing two feet in front of him. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder. The mirrored lenses of his sunglasses were aimed down at her, and seeing twin reflections of herself made her feel even smaller.
That she also felt more fragile and feminine than she’d ever felt in her life was a small shock. But then, she’d just run into his hard body, and the impression of his solid masculinity was still quaking through her.
He didn’t speak, just stared down at her from his superior height as if neither of her apologies had been enough. Frustrated by his taciturn manner and uncertain how to deal effectively with him, she took advantage of his undivided attention.
“I have a very serious reason to get to Colorado—to Aspen—by tonight, Mr. Coryell.” Stung when he still didn’t respond, she gritted her teeth and made herself go on. “It’s not quite life or death, but close. I’m willing to pay you for your time and inconvenience—double the fare the other pilot asked.”
Finally, he reacted. But the cynical slant of his handsome mouth was insultingly superior. No one looked down their nose at Madison St. John, yet the impression she had that Lincoln Coryell was doing just that jolted her.
“I don’t hire out, Miz St. John.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Maddie’s frustration spiked so high that she felt dizzy with it. She had to get to Colorado. Though she could drive to San Antonio and try to catch a flight from there, she had no guarantee of success. Lincoln Coryell was flying to Colorado now. Besides, she’d compromised her dignity too far with him to take no for an answer. His resistance to her—though she was straining to be pleasant to him—was offensive. Demeaning .
The picture that flashed in her mind—of her mother’s reaction when she finally set eyes on the ugly duckling daughter who’d grown into a swan—sharpened her determination.
Perhaps Roz would regret the years of neglect. A secret part of Madison’s heart hoped her mother would be sorry for abandoning her, but without Lincoln Coryell’s help, it might never happen. If she didn’t get to Colorado today or by afternoon tomorrow, God only knew when—or if—her mother would contact her again.
She started after him, forced to set an unladylike pace to catch up.
“Mr. Coryell!” The hint of ire that simmered beneath her soft tone had worked with scores of others. In the end, she knew of only one sure way to assert her will over his and make him take her to Colorado. “As I said, it’s very important that I get to Aspen by tonight,” she insisted as she caught up and fell into step beside him.
Linc’s long strides didn’t alter. “So you said,” he drawled. “Not quite life or death, but close,” he quoted as they reached his small plane. He stopped and tossed his duffel bag out of the way near the tail of the aircraft, then turned toward her. The mirrored sunglasses flashed down at her and again framed her image.
“But not close enough to life or death for you to consider using a word as ordinary and humbling as the word please.”
Linc watched Maddie’s lips part, saw the spasm of shock in her eyes that blanked the arrogance from her stiff expression. Clearly, words like “please” and maybe even “thank you” weren’t a regular part of her vocabulary.
He stared down at her frozen expression, a little surprised at himself for giving her even a small chance to wreck what had started out to be a good day.
On the other hand, there was something challenging about a gorgeous, sharp-tongued shrew who intimidated the hell out of most men. Normally, he wanted no part of a female as self-centered and highmaintenance as Maddie St. John. Her flawless appearance hinted at excessive vanity, and it was an easy bet that she’d never warmed enough to any man to tolerate getting a little disheveled.
What would it take to get a woman like her to mellow? Was her legendary bitchiness born of meanness, or had she spoiled and overindulged herself on her inheritance? Was there any real passion behind her cool, blond beauty, or was she an ice cube through and through?
Her father and mother had abandoned her to a grandmother who’d bullied her mercilessly. Line knew she hadn’t had an easy life. He hadn’t either, but he’d overcome it and made several fortunes by seeing the potential in losing propositions and by taking big risks.
And for all her stunning beauty and wealth, Madison St. John was a losing proposition. Maybe there wasn’t anything about her worth having, but if there was, it might be entertaining to find it. The only thing he’d truly risk was a few hours cooped up with her in a small plane.
Still, he’d leave her right there on the tarmac if she couldn’t lower her haughty attitude far enough to frame a proper request that included the word “please.” She’d had so much trouble with “pardon me” that “please” might be more than she could handle.
He waited as the seconds stretched, watched as the flush in her cheeks darkened and rose higher. Just when he was about to grab his gear and stow it in the plane, her gaze wavered and fell from his.
He saw her chin lift slightly in defiance of the small defeat. She didn’t look him in the eye; probably afraid she’d see a hint of triumph. If the situation were reversed and she’d been the one who’d got the upper hand, it was a sure bet he would have seen triumph in hers.
“It’s very important that I get to Aspen by tonight, Mr. Coryell.” The careful words and her neutral tone were obviously straining her. “Would...would you please consider allowing me to fly to Colorado with you?”
The way she’d looked when she said the words—as if she’d just been forced to consent to the most hideous, immoral act in the history of man—startled a chuckle out of him.
Those blue, blue eyes leaped to make the connection with his, and he saw the conflagration that burst up in their vivid depths. She was furious, but to her credit, she didn’t turn it loose on him. Instead, she pressed her lips together so tightly that they were little more than a colorless seam.
“Go get your luggage and haul it over by mine while I do my preflight.”
The new flash of outrage in her eyes told him the order had heaped a new indignity on her injured pride. He hadn’t used the word “please” himself, but he’d meant to leave it out. He could tell she knew it.
Her face flushed with the temper they both knew she didn’t dare vent on him, Madison turned and stalked back to the collection of monogrammed luggage near the hangar. Line spared a few moments to watch her go, admiring the faint sway of hips that her rigid stride didn’t quite repress.
CHAPTER TWO
MADISON SAT STIFFLY beside him, her posture so straight that it should have snapped her spine. Her hauteur amused him. Madison St. John was too full of herself; money had ruined the sweet kid she’d been. She was living proof that it wasn’t healthy to get everything you wanted. A body had to have something meaningful to look forward to, some reason to dream.
He thought again about how much she’d changed. Madison and her cousin, Caitlin Bodine, had been close once. But as far as he knew, they hadn’t spoken to each other for years. It was no secret that Madison blamed Caitlin for the death of the boy she’d been in love with in high school.
Beau Duvall had been a rounder, spoiled by his mother and stepfather, and destined for trouble, but shy, plain little Maddie had been crazy about him. When Beau was killed, she’d been devastated and, like everyone else, she’d blamed Caitlin.
It was only in the past few months, after Caitlin had returned to Texas, that the whole truth about Beau’s death had been made public. Caitlin had not only been accepted back into everyone’s good graces, she’d married Beau Duvall’s older brother, Reno. Madison was the only person who couldn’t accept what had really happened when Beau was killed.
Her reason for being the only holdout was probably nothing he’d ever know. He’d rarely had personal contact with her. The moment they got to Colorado and went their separate ways, he wouldn’t have cause to have contact with her again. Though they both lived in the same part of Texas and were both wealthy, their lifestyles were too different for anything more than a distant acquaintance.
Madison couldn’t relax. Her choler had faded, displaced by the agonizing fear she had of small planes. Because she confided in no one these days, no one would ever guess the magnitude of what she was willing to go through to see her mother.
The large Cessna seemed so cramped and fragile. It bumped and wallowed over every little pocket of air. The constant motion made her queasy, and the longer they flew, the heavier the queasiness became. Hours into the flight, she was so nauseous that she could barely sit upright. She’d wilted back against the seat, so miserable she was shaking.
“Your face is a pretty shade of green, Miz St. John.”
Linc’s calm observation gave her a vicious start.
“You need a bucket?”
The crude question put a sickening image in her mind. Grappling for the distraction of sarcasm, she said through gritted teeth, “Your lap should do well enough, Mr. Coryell.”
The sudden dip of the plane almost pushed her queasy stomach over the edge. She squeezed her eyes closed and panted sickly as the plane began to descend. She was aware of Linc reaching for the radio mike, but she couldn’t follow what he said into it.
Her attention had fixed on the low, calm sound of his voice. The unexpected comfort of his masculine drawl slid along her ragged nerves and steadied them somehow. The strange reaction set off a small shock wave that made her turn her head weakly against the seat back to look at him.
Lincoln Coryell was handsome, ruggedly so. His broad-shouldered, six-foot-four frame seemed to fill the cabin of the small plane, making it seem even more crowded. His arm and side were inches away, but she felt the heat of him from where she sat. Pleasant heat. Male heat.
The pang of guilt she felt surprised her until she let herself acknowledge its source.
Beau Duvall. She’d loved Beau deeply. She still loved him. He’d been handsome, so beautifully handsome. Love of life had blazed so painfully bright in his blue eyes, in his tanned face, in everything he said and did and wanted in life. He’d been so much fun, teasing, irreverent and daring.
Maddie had been so repressed, so unloved, so unlovely back then that when such a handsome, vitally alive and exciting young man had paid the slightest attention to her, she’d fallen wildly and hopelessly in love, dismally aware that handsome Beau Duvall could never love her.
But then he had. The miracle of it still awed her, still gave her hungry heart some vital bit of sustenance, though Beau was long dead now. Beau’s affection for her had been like a fairy tale come true. He’d made her feel wanted, special; he’d made her feel beautiful, somehow bringing about her astonishing transformation from duckling to swan...
Line turned his head to look at her. Though she was remembering Beau, she’d been staring at Line. He said something and her blurry gaze fell to his lips. They were so well-defined, with a masculine sort of ruthlessness that made her heart flutter lightly despite her misery.
Linc’s face was tanned and harshly chiseled, but brutally attractive in the way of rugged Western men who spent their days in the elements working with dangerous animals.
Dangerous. Yes, she realized, her mind still fuzzy. Dangerous was the word for the way Lincoln Coryell looked. Tough was also part of the package, but he was one hundred percent domineering Texas male, from the crown of his Stetson to the underslung heels of his Western boots.
Nothing at all like the much less harsh, far more gentle and sweet Beau. Never like Beau.
So why this peculiar stirring with Line, why this sudden fascination with a man too hard-edged and blatantly male for her refined tastes?
Madison turned her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him. She felt so horribly ill. Surely these wild impressions and startling reactions were part of being in such utter physical misery.
The abrupt jolt of the small plane setting down made her jerk with surprise. Relief flooded her as she realized they’d landed, and Line was taxiing off the runway to the tarmac next to a hangar. Her head was still swimming after he brought the plane to a halt and switched off the engine. She was so nauseous that she didn’t dare move. Her eyelids sagged closed as she waited for her stomach to settle.
“Did you eat something today?”
The gruff question sent a sting of irritation across her jittery nerves. The nausea surged up for a moment before it began to recede.
Her soft, “Of course,” was a lie. Admitting that she’d been too nervous to eat would reveal a weakness to him that she considered far worse than being airsick.
“You can get a sandwich at the cafе over there. I’ll meet you when the plane’s refueled.”
Maddie didn’t respond until he touched her arm. The earthquake he set off shook her. She roused herself and sat up straighter.
“Come on, Princess. Let’s get you outta here.”
The gruff words were her only warning before she found herself forcibly ejected from her seat. Panicked, she grabbed her handbag and tried to get out of the plane under her own power. But her arms and legs were clumsy, and her head was whirling.
Linc took over as if she weighed no more than an awkward piece of luggage. He was like some gigantic warm wave, sweeping her small body along ahead of his until he set her on her feet behind the plane’s wing.
The bones in her legs were as substantial as cooked noodles, and she swayed against him, clinging to his lean waist as best she could while she tried to recover her strength. The feel of Linc’s hard, well-defined masculinity sobered her, but a new kind of weakness spread through her and slowed her recovery.
“Should I get out the smelling salts...or are you makin’ a pass at me?”
It took a moment for Linc’s drawled words to penetrate.
Or are you makin’ a pass at me? The idea appalled her. It was amazing how suddenly her legs steadied and she was able to push him away.
“God forbid.” The caustic words slipped out before she considered how sharply they might land on a male ego. Most male egos were pathetically fragile. Normally, she didn’t care whether she trampled one or not, but she needed Linc’s goodwill.
Her gaze shot up to gauge his reaction, but his sunglasses blocked the sight. What she could see of his face indicated total immunity to the jab.
Of course. A man who’d achieved as much wealth and power as Lincoln Coryell couldn’t have a fragile ego. Pride maybe. Excessive pride. But there was nothing fragile about the tower of masculinity before her.
“Order me some coffee while you’re at it,” he said, then turned and walked toward the hangar without a backward glance.
Madison managed to eat a good portion of the salad and dry toast she’d ordered before Linc joined her at the cafе. After little more than an hour on the ground, they were taking off. Madison felt worlds better, but she couldn’t get over her nervousness in the small plane. Though she didn’t feel much safer in an airliner, small planes always gave her. the sensation of hurtling through space in a soda can.
She and Linc didn’t speak, and eventually she dozed as the stress of the day caught up with her and the drone of the engine lulled her to sleep.
It was the odd sound of the engine that woke her later. At first, she thought they were landing. But the staccato sound of an engine failing and the irregular vibration that shook the plane registered. Terror brought her fully awake. She jerked her head in Linc’s direction.
“What’s wrong?” Linc’s sunglasses were off and his lean jaw was clenched so hard that she knew the answer before he spoke.
“Tighten that seat belt and hang on.”
The grim order made her face forward to see out the windshield. Mountains. They were over the Rockies. The deep, heavy green of forest that mantled everything below the highest peaks and seemed to fill every valley between was breathtaking. The realization that they were about to fall into all those trees—and would probably be killed in a fiery crash—was so vivid suddenly that she couldn’t breathe. Every wild beat of her heart thundered in her ears as she watched the mountains and all that green come closer and closer.
Her body went so rigid with tension that she was in literal pain. Terror left her dry-mouthed and mute. But when the plane suddenly lurched to the left, her stomach lurched with it and startled a gurgling shriek out of her.
