Not Quite Enough(14)

He took her surprisingly heavy bag in one hand and encouraged her to walk in front of him down the stairs.
The gentle sway of her ass caught his attention as he followed her. She wore scrubs, and loose cotton hid most of her petite figure. Most, but not all of it. The cotton shirt covered her slim waist, but there was no mistaking her delicate neck and full breasts.
Monica turned when she opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. Good thing his sunglasses disguised his eyes. He held the door and let her pass. She waited for him to walk beside her as she spoke.
“So, Trent. It is Trent, right?”
“As much as I liked Barefoot, my name is Trent.”
She smiled. “Sorry about that. I didn’t catch your name on the flight over.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He stepped around a man sleeping on the floor and urged Monica out the door.
Monica glanced up at the gray skies and frowned. “So, Trent,” she began again. “Are you the only one shuffling the foreign medical staff around the island?”
He shook his head. “There are a few others. Why?”
He kept his eyes on where he walked and avoided her questioning gaze.
“Just wondering.”
He didn’t buy that. “Just wondering?”
“Seems like anyone could drive me to the clinic.”
He walked her behind the hospital and up a short path to where his helicopter waited. “Anyone could drive you.”
She hesitated when she saw her ride. “I thought you said you were driving me.”
“I am. After a short flight to where my car is parked.”
She turned a full circle. “Can’t we just drive?”
Trent moved in front of her and removed his sunglasses. “It’s a short flight back to the airport, then a thirty-minute drive. That’s if the roads are cleared.”
“Can’t we just—” Her ice blue eyes never left his.
“I didn’t kill you the first time, Monica. I won’t this time either.”
She swallowed.
“It was better thinking you volunteered to take me instead of being the only person capable of it.”
Actual fear hid behind her eyes. “Why’s that?”
“I prefer flirting to flying.”
A slow easy smile met his lips. He knew then, irrevocably, that Monica thought about him at some point during her short stint on the island.
He replaced his sunglasses and reached for her hand. “How about a little of both?”
“Damn,” she mumbled as she let him drag her to the aircraft. He opened the door on the passenger side and quickly shoved her bag in the back.
Inside, he reached across her body and latched the passenger door. “I could have done that,” she said.
He caught her eyes over the rim of his sunglasses and winked. “That would be the flirting portion of our flight.”
She laughed then. A nervous laugh that seemed to surprise her as the sound escaped.
He handed her the extra headset and buckled in.
Once her ears were in place he could hear the quickening of her breath. He powered up and switched his radio to air traffic control.
“This is Bravo Papa one.”
“I hear you, Bravo Papa one, over.”
“I’m en route to you. Can I get a weather reading? Over.”
Trent listened to the wind report and received an all clear of the fog lifting.
The hum of the helicopter wrapped around him with a warm welcome. He glanced over to see Monica’s fists clenched in her lap.
“Do you want to copilot?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I fell for that once, Barefoot. I’m not that gullible twice.”
So he was Barefoot again. “Took your mind off the flight the first time.” He removed a stick of gum from its pack and handed it to her.
“And what, gum is going to do it this time?” She took the gum and unwrapped it.
“No, but it helps the ear popping.”
She placed the gum in her mouth and took a deep breath.
“Ready?”
She shook her head. “You sure we can’t drive?”
He patted her knee as he would a child. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve been flying since I was fourteen. Two solid years longer than I’ve been driving.”
“I’m not sure that helps.”
He smiled, and lifted the aircraft off the ground. Once he was above the trees, he turned the chopper around and headed toward the airport.
Her white knuckles were not a sign of his flying, he reminded himself. “How long have you been a nurse?” he asked, hoping to calm her down.
“Three years… almost four.”
He would have thought it was much longer based on what he’d witnessed the day before.
“Did you follow in your mother’s footsteps?”
She sputtered a laugh. “Not hardly.”
That’s a loaded answer. “She’s not a nurse?”
“She’s not anything. Go nowhere jobs. Go nowhere husbands.”
As in plural.
“What about you? Is your dad a pilot?”
“He was one of the best.”
“He doesn’t fly anymore?”
“He passed away.”
Trent felt her eyes on him. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Some dads teach their kids how to ride a bike or throw a ball. My dad taught us how to fly.”
“I’ll bet your friends were insane with jealousy.”
Trent had always been thankful for his parents’ desire for him and his brothers to fly. He glanced over and noticed Monica’s hands resting loosely in her lap. Their conversation was distracting her. Trent did something he almost never did. He talked about his past. “On my eighteenth birthday a buddy of mine convinced me to go for a joyride.”