The Texan's Twins. Pamela Britton
“Do you need anything?” Jet asked. “A helping hand? A shoulder to cry on? A shot of whiskey?”
That actually made her smile. “No.” She leaned her head against the smooth leather seat. No faux leather for the prince. “I’m fine.”
He stared at her again, and she wondered what he saw. A woman with raccoon eyes and tear-stained clothing, no doubt. She glanced down and realized she did indeed have a Cheerios in the cup of her bra. She should have known.
“How long has he been gone?”
Damn it, why shouldn’t she feel sorry for herself? It sucked big-time that she had no one to count on, no husband to help ease her burden, no family to share in the raising of her children. And her girls...her poor girls. They would never know their father. That, more than anything, broke her heart.
“Jasmine?”
“Five years ago.”
She wasn’t looking at him, but she could tell her words surprised him.
She inhaled, released her breath, inhaled again. She did that over and over again until her eyes stopped burning and her heart stopped breaking—but the cracks would always remain.
“You’ve been doing this a long time on your own.”
Yup. School. Working whatever job she could find. Raising the girls.
“I’m sorry,” he added. “Nobody should ever have to raise a child on their own, much less two.”
Damn it, she felt her eyes begin to burn again. She didn’t want him to see her like this. Didn’t want him to be nice to her. She wanted to go back to the way things had been this morning when she’d walked into her office and she’d been looking down her nose at him. Jet Baron the dilettante. Instead, he’d fixed her report, invited her to tour his family’s facilities and handed her tissue.
“I am, too,” she said.
She heard him shift. A hand reached for her own. She thought about twisting in her seat, turning away so he couldn’t do what he was about to do—touch her. Instead, she watched as long fingers enveloped her own. Warm fingers. Soft fingers. No. Not soft, she realized. He had calluses on the inside. He worked outdoors a lot, she remembered. Rodeo.
“Let’s see if we can’t put a smile back on that face of yours.”
He released her.
Jasmine couldn’t move. It had been a long time since a man had touched her. A long time since she’d felt soft tingles of desire skate up and down her arm. A long time since she’d experienced the need, the want, the longing to have a man do more than touch her.
Dear God.
She was attracted to Jet Baron.
They arrived at the community airport less than fifteen minutes later, although Jet kept sneaking glances at his passenger the whole time. She’d spent the first five minutes fixing her makeup, not that she needed any, he thought. She was quiet now, which, he supposed, was better than crying. He hated when women cried—and with three older sisters, he’d seen a lot of crying over the years.
“You know, Baron Energies sponsors the Mid-Texas High School Rodeo Association.”
She shot him a look that clearly asked, “Yeah, so?”
He turned into a side entrance to the airport. Off-white metal buildings were directly ahead, many of them housing airplanes and aviation mechanics. The helicopter they leased was at the end of the block, so to speak, where Jet turned right and followed a road that skirted the main runway. He pulled into a spot marked for Air Dynamics customers.
“Anyway,” he said, putting the car in Park and shutting off the engine. “This weekend is their annual fund-raising rodeo.”
When he glanced at her it was in time to spot the “Where is this going?” look in her eyes.
“It’s fun. You should bring your girls.”
The “where is this going?” faded into “are you out of your mind?”
“A lot of employees take their families. There’s pony rides and games for the kids and lots of fun stuff to do. My brothers and I give a clinic.” At her look of confusion, he added, “We work with some of the high schoolers on their rodeo skills. My sister can give you more information and tickets, too, if you’re interested.”
He knew she was going to say she was too busy. Or that it’d be too difficult to manage her girls on her own. Or that she had work to do...something, but he didn’t give her time to respond.
“Come on.” He opened his door. “Let’s get going.”
He assumed she’d follow, and she did. Hot, humid air instantly clung to the white polo shirt he wore. As he walked toward the leasing office that handled the maintenance and upkeep of the helicopter he flew, he didn’t glance back, just held the glass door open for her when the time came, cool air blasting the both of them.
“Mr. Baron,” said the owner of the company with a wide smile. The man had taught him how to fly, and so Jet smiled back. “I was wondering if you’d changed your mind about flying today.”
“Sorry, Eric. We were a little delayed.”
The man glanced at Jasmine, and Jet spotted the tellstale interest that sprang into his eyes. Who could blame him? Despite the tears she’d shed earlier, those gorgeous blue eyes of hers were as big and as lovely as ever. Her hair might be drawn back in a ponytail, but it flattered a face that didn’t need makeup to look beautiful. As Jet watched a welcoming smile form on Eric’s face, he felt his own smile fade, something that alarmed him slightly. There was no way he’d ever ask a woman like her out. He preferred females that weren’t looking for a commitment and there were plenty on the rodeo circuit. Sure, a few of them might want more, but he’d gotten adept at avoiding the parson’s noose. Women like Jasmine—someone with two kids to complicate things even further—were to be avoided at all costs.
“This is J. C. Marks, our new engineer.”
“Afternoon, Ms. Marks,” Eric said, and if he’d been wearing a hat, Jet was certain he’d have tipped the brim.
“Thought I’d give her a tour of our holdings while I check the lines.”
“Lucky you,” Eric said, but Jet wasn’t certain if he meant lucky for Jasmine to get a helicopter ride, or lucky him for getting to ferry around such a good-looking passenger. He suspected the latter, especially since the man couldn’t keep his eyes off Jasmine as Jet filled out paperwork.
“We’ve already done the preflight.” Eric checked his watch. “We’ll see you back here in two hours.”
Jet motioned for Jasmine to follow.
“Why do I have a feeling this is less about work and more about having fun?” she asked.
“Because it is going to be fun.” He glanced back at her. “Something tells me you need a little of that.”
“Please.” And the way she said it reminded him of yesterday. “You make me sound like a charity case.”
“You were just crying in my truck. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t want to cheer you up a little.” He headed toward the gleaming black helicopter parked in a painted white circle. “All you have to do is hang on and enjoy the view.”
Her steps slowed as they approached the piece of equipment. He tried to see things through her eyes. It was a midsize helicopter. Not huge, but not a crop duster, either. The nose had been fitted with a “sniffer” a special device that would detect HCF emissions. This was a portable version that AirDyn—as they were called for short—could take on and off as needed. Inside