Learning To Fly Read online

  “Yes, but I think we should save the formal introductions for later, don’t you?” He managed to sound both amused and confident. His voice, that voice, just reached right into her and melted her insides. Cassie clung to the branch and focused on her priorities. Number one—not plummeting to her death. It was not a good time to turn to taffy.

  “I’ve got you.” His unwavering confidence imparted courage and drove away the fear. If he possessed any doubt about his ability to save her, he didn’t show it.

  She licked her lips. Yes, she could trust him. She had no other choice. “Okay.”

  “That’s it. Now, one hand at a time.”

  Cassie swung her legs back and forth to gain momentum and close the gap between them. At the pinnacle, she let go of the root with her left hand and extended her arm as far as it reached. Their palms connected and his fingers closed around her wrist.

  “I have you. Give me your other hand.”

  Trusting her fate to him, she transferred her right hand to his forearm. With a clean motion, he hoisted her to safety. Before she recovered her balance, he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her up the incline. Breathing hard, he dropped to the ground while retaining a solid hold on her. She landed on his lap, cradled in his arms, her bottom against his thighs and her head on his shoulder. The cotton of his flannel shirt felt soft against her skin; his broad chest bulged with powerful corded muscles.

  Safe at last, Cassie inhaled. She scented male musk, warm perspiration, not in a bad way but more like sniffing a mouth-watering pretzel. His breath smelled of peppermint—toothpaste or mints? She leaned in closer to get a better whiff.

  His white teeth flashed in a welcoming smile. “Do I need to brush?”

  Her cheeks burst with heat at her behavior. She dropped her eyes and looked away. “Nope. I was just remembering that I need to buy toothpaste.”

  A lusty rumble shook his chest. “Let’s wait until we get off this bluff, what do you say?”

  “I almost died.” She heard herself say, but it took several long moments before the truth of it registered.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, with a distinct note of apology in his voice. “Do you always overreact, Red?”

  “Yes, I have a talent for it,” Cassie said. Her initial shock left her dazed, but she started to shake as the adrenaline ebbed. A hysterical bubble of laughter formed in her chest and she struggled to contain it. In the last twelve hours, she had run from the FBI and almost fallen off a cliff into the ocean. What had happened to her sane, reasonable self?

  “Hey, don’t cry. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” Her hero mistook her twisted humor for distress and she let him. Better he think her weak than crazy. Kyle’s soothing hand stroked up and down her back. Cassie clung to him and turned her face into his throat. The stubble of his five o’clock shadow prickled her cheek. The longer she sat on his lap, the more aware she became of the hard male body so close to her own and conflicting impulses seized her. The temptation to rub her cheek against his throat, to run her hands across his muscular chest, contradicted her fundamental fear of men.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She started to rise but he thwarted her escape.

  “Shh, don’t apologize.”

  She inhaled a deep breath and struggled to make the violent trembling cease. Her physical response helped distract her from her distress. She would have loved to run her hands over that beautiful body and call it therapy. Would he mind? And it was that sort of thinking that showed why she needed to get clear of his confusing proximity.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay. I’ll be covered in bruises but nothing’s broken. Please let me up.”

  Kyle grew still. “Of course, but promise me first you’ll watch where you step. The ground here is treacherous.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  He set her on her feet and then stood also. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, thanks to you.” She was taller than average for a woman, putting her at eye level with most men. With him, she tilted her head back to gaze up into his face for the first time.

  “You’re welcome.” His tawny brown eyes shone with good humor. Her breath hitched. Hot damn! Her worst fears and wildest fantasies were realized—the man suited his voice to a T.

  “Let’s get away from the edge,” he said.

  “Good idea. I’ve seen more of the ocean today than I wanted to.” She took the lead and they climbed the rest of the way up the steep slope to safety. They didn’t speak again until they reached the top.

  He extended his hand. “My name’s Kyle McCleod, but I guess you know that.”

  Talk about making a great first impression. Mortified, she felt her cheeks heat. It made her nervous to get so close to him again, but for the sake of politeness, she took his hand. “Hi, I’m Cassandra Claeys, your new illustrator.”

  “Weren’t you due next week, Ms. Claeys?” His brow drew together, and the use of her last name set a formal tone.

  Her mouth opened and then closed. She lacked the reserves necessary to explain everything to him. It troubled her to try after everything else that had happened. One slipup and all of her secrets would be spilled.

  “Don’t worry about it right now. We can talk later,” he said. “Let’s head back to the house.”

  She nodded, grateful for the reprieve. Kyle took the lead and she followed him. They walked in silence and the long hike gave her an opportunity to compose her thoughts. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the house became visible through the trees. They passed through the gated entry into the fenced yard.

  Outside of the house, he stopped and turned to her. “Ms. Claeys?”

  “Yes?”

  He started to speak and then smiled. His hand lifted. “There’s a piece of…”

  “I bet I’m a sight!”

  “A pretty one.”

  The hushed compliment caused her to blush. Damn, but the blasted man made her want to run every which way. From him, straight into his arms. Dropping her gaze, Cassie ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb out the mess.

  “Did I get it?”

  He shook his head. “No. May I?”

  She took a deep breath. She had recovered much of her composure and, along with it, a natural reticence about being touched. Her first instinct led her to avoid even casual brushes with strange men. All he wanted to do was remove a bit of debris from her hair…Such a tiny thing, but it required a huge act of courage. She licked her lips and gave a small nod.

  He plucked the twig from her hair with deft fingers and cast it aside. “Dinner should be ready in about an hour if you’d like to clean up.”

  “Thank you.” She laughed because the man wore his fair share of sweat and grime.

  “Maybe I’ll take my own advice.” His white teeth gleamed as he grinned. “Have you been shown to your room?”

  “Mrs. Arthur did when I arrived, thank you.” Cassie wanted nothing more than to retreat to her room. She needed a hot shower and some privacy to recover her composure.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said.

  Kyle reached to open the back door, but Mr. Arthur hurried out of the house first. The Welsh man looked ready to burst, and his coal black eyes gleamed with excitement. Cassie hesitated, curious to find out what was going on.

  “Henry, what’s up?” Kyle asked.

  “Deputy Boggins called. There’s a hawk tangled up in barbwire out on Kendal Road near Colin’s Cross.” The gardener shot her a probing glance, but addressed his words to Kyle.

  “A hawk? Are you a veterinarian, too?” Cum architect?

  “I do volunteer work in wildlife rehabilitation.” Kyle spared her both a glance and an explanation. “I also have a license in falconry. My aviary is around the side of the house.”

  Her brow rose in astonishment. “Apparently, you’re a man of many talents, Mr. McCleod.”

  He flashed a smile and turned to
Mr. Arthur. “Henry, do me a favor and call Deputy Boggins. Let him know I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  The gardener nodded and went back inside. Kyle started to follow, but Cassie touched his elbow to draw his attention. Those heart-stopping eyes regarded her with a silent question. Her anxiety about being alone with a man wasn’t enough to outweigh her sense of adventure. She’d resolved long ago not to allow fear to be her handicap.

  “Can I tag along? Please?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Meet me out front. I need to grab a few things first.”

  Chapter Two

  Kyle knew better than to tempt fate, but he took the direct route through the kitchen anyway and, sure enough, got waylaid. Shelly popped out of the pantry, wide-eyed with curiosity. Once she got a look at them, the housekeeper buzzed with concern. “Goodness, what on earth happened to you two? Cassandra, m’dear, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, thank you. I tripped and took a little tumble.” Cassandra mustered a smile but maintained her standoffish manner. The gorgeous redhead’s nonverbal body language was as effective as a “hands off” warning.

  Kyle did his best to respect her wishes, but he could not shake the twinge of regret. However brief, he had enjoyed cradling her in his arms. She had the ability to evoke his most protective instincts, a primitive reaction he found startling and somewhat disturbing.

  Ever perceptive, Shelly relented. She pursued her lips and swung on Kyle. “I suppose Mr. Arthur told you Deputy Boggins called. Are you heading out to Kendal Road?”

  “Sorry about dinner, Shelly, can’t be helped.” He schooled his face into a repentant expression that earned a chuckle from his housekeeper.

  Delicious aromas—beef and potatoes—wafted from the stove and caused his stomach to grumble. He stole a piece of fresh baked bread from the basket on the table. His thievery earned him a whack across the chest from Shelly’s kitchen towel.

  “Off with you now. I’ll keep your dinner warm.”

  “Ms. Claeys is going to accompany me,” he said.

  “Is she now?” The housekeeper’s speculative gaze swung between the two of them.

  A blush turned Cassandra’s cheeks pink as she moved to leave the kitchen. “Shall I meet you out front?”

  Kyle tried not to stare and failed yet again. He met her cat-green eyes, and then glanced down. Freckles dusted her throat and his speculative gaze lingered on the seductive swell of her cleavage beneath the tight-fitting T-shirt. He found her physical appearance more than distracting. She left him in a perpetual state of arousal, thinking thoughts better suited to the bedroom than Shelly’s homey kitchen.

  No, this was no good.

  He sighed. Working with Cassandra wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, he already found it quite hard. As soon as he got upstairs, adjusting his pants became his top priority.

  “Mr. McCleod?” Cassandra frowned at him. “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes, sorry. Ah, give me ten minutes. I’ll get my things and pull the truck around front.” She nodded and he made his escape.

  Kyle grabbed his tools from the workshop. He stopped at his small aviary for a first aid kit along with a hood, jesses, and a carrier for the injured hawk. He loaded his gear into the back of the estate’s black pickup truck, which Mr. Arthur used for maintaining the grounds.

  He pulled the truck around front and found Cassandra waiting for him on the walk. He leaned over to open the passenger side door for her. “Hop in.”

  She hesitated before complying, regarding him with the same wary expression he’d noticed more than once. Her reticence disturbed him in a way he couldn’t define. Had he imagined the sexual sparks flying between them on the bluff? Was the attraction he felt not returned?

  “I don’t bite,” he said, keeping his voice soft.

  Cassandra flushed and looked away. “No, of course not.”

  She scrambled into the cab and closed the door behind her. He waited while she fastened her seatbelt and watched her with guarded curiosity. She pressed against the truck’s door as if to place as much distance between them as possible.

  Kyle put the vehicle into gear and applied his attention to driving. The windy coastal roads demanded vigilance. Cassandra looked out the window and avoided conversation. She seemed jittery, unsurprising considering recent events. He got the distinct impression that she had more to hide than nerves over the incident on the bluff. During their phone conversations, she had never been skittish. It made him wonder what had happened since to make her so afraid. Did it have something to do with her early arrival? There had to be a reason why she seemed to be running from something.

  Daylight lingered in the western sky as the pickup rounded a turn and came upon a police car parked on the shoulder of the road. Kyle pulled in behind it and climbed out of the truck. He reached into the bed to gather his things.

  “Can I help?” Cassandra asked from the other side of the vehicle. Her anxiety seemed to abate so long as plenty of space separated them.

  “Can you carry something?” He rounded the back of the pickup and offered her the carrier.

  “Sure.” She took it from him, then retreated several paces.

  Interesting.

  Cassandra reminded him of a wild animal, wary and suspicious. Kyle arched his brow, considering her behavior, when the county deputy spotted them and headed over.

  “Kyle, thanks for coming out.” Stan extended a knobby arm. The whip-thin deputy was Kyle’s height but lacked his muscular build. Shelly often compared the man to a scarecrow.

  “Hey, Stan, no problem,” he said. He took hold of the deputy’s hand and shook it.

  “Stan, this is Cassandra Claeys,” Kyle said, making formal introductions. The deputy and the redhead exchanged greetings.

  “Where’s the hawk?” he asked, eager to get down to business before the last of the summer sunlight faded.

  “Over here.” Stan led them halfway up the side of the hill. The tall grasses shimmied and shook with unrelenting fury.

  Kyle opened his toolkit and removed gloves, wire cutters, and a falcon hood. The gear would protect him from a frightened raptor’s beak and talons. Then, he approached the waist-high grass with caution, expecting the injured animal to come exploding out of it.

  He pushed the vegetation aside and revealed the hawk that was tangled in a roll of rusted barbed wire. The bird was small, no more than twenty-four inches at a glance, and bore the distinctive plumage of a red-tailed hawk.

  He stopped to pull on heavy work gloves and Cassandra caught up with him. She no longer shied away from him. Instead, she sidled up so close that their elbows brushed. He sensed every little touch with painful clarity, craving more intimacy than she offered. It seemed impossible that he’d ever manage to work with her and remain professional.

  “Can I help?” she asked. Fortunately, she had the sense not to crowd the hawk.

  “Hold this?” He offered her the leather hood and she took it. He turned his attention to the hawk and made her his focus. He approached the bird with deliberation, keeping his actions slow and careful. He knew better than to take chances with a distressed bird of prey.

  “Guhrunk.” The hawk croaked and bobbed her head. Golden eyes followed his every movement. Her beak maneuvered, seeking an opportunity to snap off a finger.

  “Hello, beautiful,” he said, and chuckled low in his throat. Rusted barbed wire wrapped around both her yellow legs, which were slick with blood.

  Cassandra gasped and uttered a cry of pity. “Oh! How did she get caught?”

  “Old pieces of barbed wire are a hazard to all kinds of wildlife. It happens sometimes—a hunting hawk dives after prey and becomes entangled. There’s a rabbit burrow over there.” He indicated a nearby hole in the ground.

  “There’s still barbed wire left from the days when folks raised livestock ‘round these parts,” Deputy Boggins said. “Do you need help, Kyle?”

  “I’ve got it, thanks.” Kyle managed to secure a hold on the bird, pinning
her wings to her sides. “Hand me the hood.”

  “Here.” Cassandra placed it in his hand.

  “Thanks.” He slipped it over the injured hawk’s head and the bird calmed down right away.

  “Can you tell if it’s a he or a she?” Cassandra pressed against his back, her arm brushing his shoulder. She seemed comfortable so long as she wasn’t thinking about touching him. Unfortunately, it was about the only thing he could focus on.

  He noticed every little thing from her breath caressing his cheek to the scent of her hair—strawberries ‘n cream. Was that her shampoo? How could any one woman possibly look and smell so delicious? Curiosity led him along the natural course, and his gaze was drawn to her luscious lips and teasing tip of a pink tongue poking past white teeth. He wanted to taste her, to verify her flavor for himself, to thrust his tongue deep into her mouth and explore her secrets.

  The erotic direction of his thoughts and the hardening of his cock made it so Kyle couldn’t formulate a coherent response to Cassie’s question.

  Fuck.

  She looked at him, brow arched, eyes alight with curiosity. Finally, Kyle found his voice. “Female. This is a juvenile. She hasn’t been out of the nest very long. There’s a mated pair on my land. She might be their offspring.”

  He located the length of barbed wire, concealed beneath soil and brush, and followed it to the hawk’s legs. With a pair of cutters, he removed the barbed wire, being careful not to injure the bird further.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Cassandra said in a hushed voice full of awe. Kyle looked up and discovered a dreamy expression on her beautiful face.

  “Yes, she is,” he said, staring at her with naked longing. It took him a second to recover, and then he disguised his reaction as best he was able. Luck happened to be on his side, because Cassandra appeared distracted, her entire attention focused on the raptor.

  He tucked the hawk under his arm and stood. Cassandra blinked and then followed him, quiet and withdrawn for reasons that were beyond his understanding.

  “Stan, will you see to it that this barbed wire gets cleaned up?” Kyle asked the deputy.

  “Sure thing. I’ll take care of it.” Deputy Boggins gave an amiable nod. “Everything going to be okay with your patient?”