Page 5 of Crash Course
Cilla pointed to her briefcase. "I have the loan agreement. I believe you have a copy."
"We have it." He pointed out the door. "Phin is here. He’s on a call."
"Excellent. I have some calls myself."
"Then I’ll let you get to it."
He turned to enter the cockpit, his big shoulders filling the doorway, and regret assailed her. She’d never been alone with him and for whatever reason, she now didn’t want it to end.
"I didn’t realize you were a pilot," she said. "My dad told me. Handy that you’re certified for a Gulfstream."
He set his backpack on one of the seats and faced her again.
"I am," he said. "I have my CPL."
"CPL?"
"Commercial pilot’s license. Certified to fly any single or multi-engine aircraft." He hit her with another of those flashing killer smiles. "Don’t worry, Cilla, you’re safe with me."
She laughed. "No offense, Cruz, but I doubt any woman is safe with you."
Plus, there might not be a man alive who could handleherwhen she wanted to do battle that, in her twisted way, became foreplay. She couldn’t help it. She loved the art of war. Something, she believed, which made her a formidable attorney.
Cruz? He sorta looked up to the task. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking because she really, really, wanted to explore his body. Run her hands along all those luscious muscles and dig her fingers into his long curls.
He might not be Mr. Right—thatguy probably didn’t exist—but he could definitely be Mr. Right Now.
2
Cilla spentthe hour-long flight chatting with Phin, who sat in the seat across from her while he briefed her on their plan for the morning. The plan started with a soft approach by having her introduce herself to the gallery owner, Greg Adams, and informing him they wanted Dad’s Banksy back.
Based on intel the BARS team had gathered, the painting was on display in the gallery. All in all, according to Phin, it should be an uneventful recovery.
Cilla hoped so. Despite her love of the area, she didn’t have time for this. A shame because growing up, she’d enjoyed spending time with her parents in Nashville. After the divorce and her mother’s subsequent move overseas, Cilla and her dad would spend long weekends here. Him golfing and her with her nanny visiting the Grand Ole Opry and various museums and touristy hot spots. In college, the fun began when she’d wander downtown with friends and barhop.
She hadn’t been back in almost four years and the minute they cruised through downtown, she regretted it. Once things settled down at work, she’d spend a few days. Maybe take an actual weeklong vacation and revisit all the places she loved.
For now? A painting to reclaim. They arrived fifteen minutes before the gallery opened and chose a parking space in front. Cilla sat in the passenger seat of their rented SUV with Cruz behind her and Phin at the wheel. Phin, usually decked out in a slick suit, had opted for the more casual vibe today of gray slacks and a light blue golf shirt.
The Blackwell DNA was something to behold. At one time or another, she’d seen each of the Blackwell men in person and every one of them, in their own way, could be a woman’s sexual fantasy.
The one sitting behind her, though? His sexy, lady-killer vibe captured her attention in a way none of his brothers ever could.
It annoyed her.
Royally.
Who had time for distractions and disappointment when the relationship, if it got that far, failed? She’d been down this road. Understood the ramifications when her job and her father’s constant presence and interfering smothered her.
It would take a self-assured and patient man to deal with that mess.
She checked her watch: 10:55. Five minutes until the gallery opened, and they'd take care of business and get back home.
Away from the mighty Cruz Blackwell.
Gleaming sunlight blazed through the windshield, so she rested her head back and closed her eyes, letting the heat seep into her. Thank goodness Phin and Cruz weren’t the kind of people who had to fill silence because she needed a minute to calm her mind and get focused.
"We got activity," Cruz said, his resonant, deep voice immediately capturing her attention and pulling her from her subdued state.
