The Flyboy's Temptation

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“HELLO? UM, HELLO? Is there anyone here?”

James “J. T.” Carmichael banged his head against the frame of his Beechcraft turboprop charter plane and swore a blue streak as he rubbed his dome.

“Who’s asking?” he said, squinting against the blazing Southern California sun as his hangover made the pain of bumping his head that much worse. “If you’re a creditor, then I ain’t here.”

A leggy redhead wearing a pencil skirt and spindly heels peered at him through dark-rimmed glasses. “Not a creditor...Mr....”

J.T. straightened and wiped his hands on a dirty rag from his pocket, giving her the once-over just as openly.

He supposed she wasn’t lying. He didn’t know many creditors who actually showed up on a person’s doorstep to collect. And heaven help him, creditors didn’t look like her. Or at least, he hoped they didn’t.

He’d rather think that creditors hung out in darkened cubicles, didn’t shower and had complexions that reflected their junk-food diet. “J. T. Carmichael, co-owner of Blue Yonder. My brother, Teagan, is the other half. Is there something I can do for you?”

She pushed strands of fine red hair away from her china-doll face and straightened her glasses. “Mr. Carmichael, I’m in need of a charter to South America. Are you available?”

South America? That was a heckuva journey. Pricey, too.

Teagan’s voice rang in his head from last night’s argument alongside the pounding of his brain.

Teagan was in favor of calling it quits; J.T. wasn’t ready to give up on their dream.

The numbers don’t lie, J.T. We’re going to be bankrupt in two months at this rate.

Why had he thought mixing Jack and tequila was a good idea?

Because the bartender had been hot.

“Mr. Carmichael?” The redhead’s firm voice held an edge of impatience. “Are you capable of such a charter?”

Capable? Hell yes. But should he accept the job? His Spidey sense was tingling off the charts. Something wasn’t right. And it wasn’t just that this hot-looking chick was coming to his small operation when she plainly could afford something nicer. Although, now that he thought about it, that seemed a little off, too.

But hadn’t Teagan groused that they’d need a miracle to keep the doors open? Hell, looked like a miracle wore fancy designer glasses and an air of mystery.

And who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

“Of course,” he answered, eyeing her warily. “But that’s a pretty expensive ride. Not to be rude or anything, but...you got the cash?”

She smiled thinly as if she’d expected his question, opened her purse and pulled a small wad of bills free. “I believe this should be sufficient to get us off the ground?”

His eyes bugged. There had to be at least five grand in her hand! “Whoa, lady—” he snatched the cash and tucked it under his arm, glancing around “—don’t go flashing that kind of money around here. Times are hard and you never know who’s watching.”

“You have a suspicious nature, Mr. Carmichael. I think that will serve my purposes quite well.”

“Yeah? And what purposes would that be?”

“My own. When can we leave?”

“Look, I need to know some details. I can’t just blindly agree to zip you off to South America just because you flashed some cash in my face.”

“No? And why not?”

Uh... “Well, because I can’t. How do I know you’re not a drug dealer? I don’t want to get caught up with the feds over some illegal shit.”

“That’s a pity,” she said. “Because there’s more where that came from if you could be trusted to do your job quietly and without question.”

He didn’t like her tone, but he had to admit she’d hooked him pretty good. “Yeah? Like how much?”

She smiled again. “Enough to make it worth your while.”

Teagan’s voice intruded in his thoughts, only this time J.T. had a feeling his brother was telling him to walk away because this job promised trouble. But that was a lot of cash. And cold hard cash was the answer to their prayers right now. He had no doubt that Blue Yonder could pull through if they could just weather this rough spot.

“When do you need to leave?”

“Now.”