Crash Landing

“No?”

“What would she say about the way you are staring at me?”

“I’m not staring at you. I was studying the instrument panel,” he lied smoothly, his stomach roiling and unsettled.

“Uh-huh.”

Well, damn, if she didn’t want men to look at her, she shouldn’t wear shorts like that. “You do have nice legs.”

“So does Blondie.”

He blew out his breath. “I think you must have gotten the wrong idea about Stacy and I.”

“I think I understand it pretty well.”

“We’re just…” What were they?

Sophia turned toward him, arched an eyebrow. “Friends with benefits?”

The benefit part was right, the friend part, not so much. “Could we talk about something else?”

“It is your three thousand dollars. We can talk about whatever you want.”

Silence stretched out wide as the sky. He had to fix that. He should ask Sophia something else. “How long have you been a pilot?”

“I got my pilot’s license when I was sixteen,” she said proudly.

“Wow, that’s young.”

“My father’s a pilot. This was his plane. He gave it to me when he retired.”

“Why did he retire?”

“He’s losing his sight.”

“That’s a shame.”

Sophia nodded. “Yes. Poppy is like a bird with a broken wing. It’s very sad.”

“You speak English like a native,” he said. “Much better than my Spanish.”

“I was bilingual even as a kid. I have dual citizenship. My mother was an American,” she said. “We visited her family in California every Christmas.”

“Where abouts in California?”

“Ventura.”

“Really? I have a beach house in Santa Barbara.”

“Of course you do,” she said.

“What’s that tone all about?”

“What tone?”

“The tone that says there’s something wrong with having a lot of money.”

She gave a half laugh that sounded more like a snort. “You are imagining things, Mr. Martin. I do not have a tone.”

Was he? “You don’t have anything against wealthy people?”

“Why would I have such an attitude? If it were not for the rich and powerful and famous who come to Bosque de Los Dioses, I would not have a job.”

“Because I know how some rich people can be. They can be very demanding. I’m sure you have to put up with a lot.”

A sly smile flitted across her face. “Ah.”

“Ah, what?”

She shook her head.

“What is it?”

“You are the one with the prejudice against the wealthy.”

“What! That’s crazy. I’m worth over a billion dollars.” Well, until this last investment, but he would be back up there again soon. “Why would I be prejudice against rich people? That’s like saying I’m prejudiced against myself.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Prejudiced against yourself?”

What kind of question was that? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No.”

“You weren’t born into money,” she said.

How had she guessed? He raised his chin. “What makes you assume that?”

“That chip sitting on your shoulder.”

“I don’t have a chip—” Shut up. Don’t argue with her. It doesn’t matter.

“Were you?” she asked. “Born rich?”

“No,” he admitted.

“So you are a self-made man.”