Fly Away with Me Read online

  Books by Susan Fox

  Blue Moon Harbor Series

  Fly Away With Me

  Caribou Crossing Romances

  “Caribou Crossing” novella

  Home on the Range

  Gentle on My Mind

  “Stand By Your Man” novella

  Love Me Tender

  Love Somebody Like You

  Ring of Fire

  Holiday in Your Heart

  Wild Ride to Love Series

  His, Unexpectedly

  Love, Unexpectedly

  Yours, Unexpectedly

  Also by Susan Fox

  Body Heat

  Writing as Susan Lyons

  Sex Drive

  She’s On Top

  Touch Me

  Hot in Here

  Champagne Rules

  Anthologies

  The Naughty List

  Some Like It Rough

  Men on Fire

  Unwrap Me

  The Firefighter

  Fly Away With Me

  SUSAN FOX

  ZEBRA BOOKS KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Teaser chapter

  About the Author

  HOME ON THE RANGE

  GENTLE ON MY MIND

  LOVE ME TENDER

  LOVE SOMEBODY LIKE YOU

  RING OF FIRE

  HOLIDAY IN YOUR HEART

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 by Susan Lyons

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4324-9

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4325-6

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4325-5

  Chapter One

  When Eden Blaine tugged her wheeled carry-on bag off the sloped ramp from the seaplane terminal onto the wooden dock, she almost lost her balance. The surface beneath her feet looked flat, but it moved gently, disconcertingly.

  Thank heavens I left my lawyer suit and heels in Ottawa. Her jeans and loafers were much better suited to this venue, even though Vancouver Harbour Flight Centre nestled along the shore of a huge, cosmopolitan city.

  For a moment, she forgot all about being rushed and frazzled. The view compelled her to stop and stare. On this sunny, early June afternoon, the harbor spread out before her in a spectacular panorama. Boats bustling along, green swaths of parkland, a cruise ship terminal, the white sails of Canada Place, commercial docks, and a whole other city on the far shore, sheltering under dramatic mountains: There was too much to take in. She breathed deeply, expecting to fill her lungs with the fresh tang of ocean air, but a nose-wrinkling underlay of fuel odor reminded her why she was here, standing on this narrow, unstable dock in the middle of all this amazing scenery. The scent, the motion, and the anticipation of the upcoming flight combined to make her jittery with nerves.

  Eden hadn’t done much flying but had occasionally taken a smallish jet from Ottawa to Toronto or Montreal. Compared to what she’d thought of as smallish, the seaplanes tied up to the dock were minuscule. Add to that the fact that she’d never taken off from or landed on water . . .

  Her hand rose to her mouth and her teeth closed on a fingernail. Before she could gnaw on it, she forced her hand down and curled her fingers around the handle of the briefcase that hung over one shoulder along with her purse. Nana had broken her of the nail-biting habit when she was in fourth grade, saying that not only was it unattractive and unhygienic but it was a sure giveaway of anxiety, insecurity, and lack of control. None of which were qualities Eden wanted to reveal to the outside world.

  This was going to be an adventure, and adventure was definitely not her middle name. Still, she’d face any peril if she could restore her mom’s once-bright spirit. The seaplane flight would get her to Destiny Island a day earlier than the ferry would have, and with only a week off work to find her mother’s long-lost sister, every hour was important. Her mom, fragile after a double mastectomy, followed by chemotherapy and radiation, was counting on her. Eden’s parents were wonderful and she never, ever let them down.

  Eden refused to let herself think for one moment that her quest might end in learning that her aunt, Lucy, was dead.

  Squaring her shoulders, she tugged her wheelie along the dock toward the plane with the Blue Moon Air logo. She had to admit it looked perky with its blue-and-white paint shining in the sunlight, the wings mounted from the top of the cabin, and the pontoons holding it atop the deep, bluish-green ocean. The logo was appealing too: a blue moon with a white plane flying across it.

  Half a dozen people clustered beside the plane: three sixtyish men in outdoorsy clothes, two women a decade or two younger in jeans and hoodies, and a lean but broad-shouldered guy in jeans and a blue T-shirt. His back was to her as he hoisted luggage onto the plane. One of the women spotted Eden, raised a hand in a tentative wave, and said something to the others.

  The broad-shouldered guy turned, straightening, and she felt a physical sensation akin to the one she’d experienced when she first saw the horrendous taxi lineup at Vancouver International Airport. After her flight from Ottawa had been late arriving.

  Well, not exactly akin. At the airport, the legs-stopping-moving-of-their-own-accord, air-leaving-her-lungs-in-a-whoosh sensation had been nasty, whereas this one was quite pleasant.

  As she forced her legs onward, she took a visual inventory. Lean and nicely muscled; narrow hips and long legs to complement those broad shoulders. Hair so dark a brown it was almost black, longish and shaggy rather than styled. Medium brown skin. Aviator sunglasses hiding his eyes, making it difficult to assess his age, though she guessed it was close to her own twenty-nine. Ruggedly handsome features lit by a smile as he strode to meet her.

  That smile warmed her in a way that made her feel special. And that was silly, because of course he merely was relieved that she’d finally shown up and the flight could depart.

  “I’m Aaron Gabriel, Blue Moon Air pilot. And you’d be Eden Blaine.” He reached for the long handle of her wheelie.

  As he shoved the handle down and hefted the bag, she confirmed, “Yes, I would be. I’m
so sorry for the delay.” She hated being late, hated inconveniencing people. When she’d phoned Blue Moon Air from the airport taxi lineup, she’d said she wouldn’t make the flight on time and asked if she could reschedule for the next morning. To her astonishment and delight, the man who’d answered had said they’d hold the flight for her.

  “Ah, well, airlines,” the pilot now said in a joking tone. “Never can rely on them being on time.”

  What could she possibly say to that? She firmly believed in adhering to schedules, yet the airline’s flexibility had worked to her benefit today. Rather than respond, she kept quiet as she followed him to the plane.

  As he loaded her carry-on into the cargo hold, she apologized to the other passengers, who all murmured variations of “No problem.”

  Aaron took her briefcase from her and stowed it, too, but let her keep her purse. “Climb aboard,” he told her.

  “But what about everyone else?” No one else had boarded.

  “We have a boarding order. Your seat’s first. Hop in.” He offered her his hand.

  Eyeing the dock, which heaved rhythmically up and down, the plane, which also bobbed up and down but to a different beat, and the insubstantial three-step metal ladder that connected the two, she gratefully put her hand into his.

  Warm, firm, secure. Touching him reminded her of just how wonderful male-female contact could be. She’d missed that since she and Ray had ended their four-year relationship. In fact, she didn’t remember Ray’s hands ever feeling this good. He had city hands, well-groomed but not supermasculine. Hands that were efficient in operating a computer, handling legal files, and bringing her to orgasm. Competent, yet not exactly virile.

  And what was she doing, thinking about sex? Embarrassed, she clambered up the ladder and then let go of Aaron’s hand. “Where do I sit?”

  “Up front, right-hand seat.”

  “But that’s the copilot’s seat.”

  “Don’t need a copilot on a plane this size. That’s a passenger seat.”

  No copilot? Aaron Gabriel looked entirely healthy, but anyone could have a stroke, a heart attack, or an aneurysm.

  He shoved his sunglasses atop his head and winked. “Don’t worry. I’m one hundred percent fit.” His gaze rested on her for a long moment, and there was a spark in his long-lashed, bluish-gray eyes that hinted at flirtation.

  That spark sent a corresponding tingle rippling through her blood, almost strong enough to combat her jittery nerves. She’d never been a highly sensual woman, so it was unsettling to feel this purely female awareness of a sexy man. She cleared her throat. “I’m glad to hear that.” Her voice came out in lawyer mode, too formal for the situation. Giving herself an internal headshake, she scrambled into the right front seat and fumbled for the seat belt as the other passengers piled in behind her.

  Eden liked order and predictability, situations she could control, and this one was anything but that. Taking deep breaths, she thought ruefully that up until a year ago, her life had been happy and uncomplicated. She’d had her family, her terrific job, and Ray, her life mate. Then Nana died, Mom was diagnosed, and, two months ago, Eden and Ray broke up. Now her mom was finally finished with chemo and radiation but still feeling sick and depressed—at least until a week ago, when she’d found an out-of-the-blue clue to her sister Lucy’s disappearance, and nothing would do but for Eden to follow it. Immediately. And so here she was, about to put her life in the hands of the handsome pilot and his perky miniature plane.

  Aaron stowed the ladder and shut the boarding hatch from the outside, then stepped onto a float and entered through the door by the pilot’s seat. He gave the passengers a safety briefing that included seat belts, turning off electronic devices, emergency procedures, life preservers, exits, and so on. He advised them to read the safety card in the seat pocket, asked if there were any questions, and then said, “Let’s fly, folks.”

  Buckled in, with a headset on, he started the plane’s engine and talked to air traffic control.

  Eden concentrated on memorizing the safety card, trying not to imagine crash landings or pilot heart attacks.

  Aaron signalled a man on the dock, who untied the ropes. As they motored out into the harbor, the plane bounced over gentle waves. The motion was rather like driving over a heavily rutted road in her little Smart car. Except that the fragile plane was soon going to fling itself into the great blue yonder. She clasped her hands and squeezed them together, another defense against nail-biting.

  “We’ll be making three stops this afternoon,” Aaron told the passengers, speaking loudly to make himself heard over the engine noise. “First, we’ll fly up the Sunshine Coast to Texada Island for our Sylvan Retreat couple. Then west to Campbell River to drop off the three fishers. Then south again to Blue Moon Harbor on Destiny Island.”

  Eden’s dad had booked the flight and she had assumed it was a direct one from Vancouver to Blue Moon Harbor. Her logical brain suggested that flying north, west, and then south wasn’t the most efficient way to reach Destiny Island, but it didn’t really matter. Her goals for today were to get settled at the Once in a Blue Moon B and B, confirm the rental car she’d reserved for tomorrow morning, and make inquiries of the owners of the B and B.

  Normally, Eden planned everything in exquisite detail, but the past week had been crazy. She’d had to organize files and appointments at work so she could leave her assistant in charge and make copious notes for her younger sister Kelsey, who was home from university for the summer and would help Dad care for Mom. There’d been only a moment here and there to prepare for the trip. Her dad had helped, making travel arrangements and using his Internet skills to search for information on the island, but most of what he’d found was tourism-focused. He’d located only two mentions of the old commune, nothing that would help Eden track down a hippie girl named Lucy Nelson who’d come to Destiny Island in 1969. Eden hoped her hosts at the B and B could identify some of the island’s longtime residents, whom she could interview.

  The plane increased speed and its nose came up, the floats skimmed the tops of the waves, and then the small craft lifted into the air. Rather than the white-noise drone Eden was used to when flying, she heard a whiny engine roar and a rattling sound. The dashboard—or whatever they called it in a plane—sported a collection of confusing dials and gauges. The huge window in front of her made it impossible to ignore the scarily vast expanse of sky outside. To her right was another window, in a flimsy door. If that door snapped open, the only thing holding her in the plane would be the seat belt. The aircraft seemed so insubstantial and she felt vulnerable, which she hated. She gulped, took more deep breaths, clenched her hands more firmly, and glanced over at Aaron’s comforting solidness and his strong brown hands on the steering yoke.

  The man’s been thoroughly trained, he knows what he’s doing, and he must have regular medical exams. The plane’s a commercial craft, owned by a reputable airline, and is inspected regularly. There’s not a single thing to worry about.

  “Nervous?” Aaron asked, shooting a pointed look at her tightly clasped hands.

  Since her body’d already given her away, she admitted, “Trying not to be,” speaking up to be heard over the noise.

  “Relax and enjoy it.” He gave her a smile full of warmth and enthusiasm. “It’s the best thing in the world.”

  You must be kidding. But he wasn’t. The sincerity of his tone and body language confirmed that he meant it. As he returned his attention to the plane’s controls, she mulled over his words. To this man, the best thing in the world was flying. He had a job where he experienced joy every day, just as she did. Her work as program counsel for the Butterworth Foundation involved administrative and legal details, which she excelled at and took satisfaction in, but what she truly loved was helping provide funds for worthwhile charities and nonprofits.

  Still, as much as she enjoyed her job, the best thing in her world was her family. She loved her mom, her dad, and her younger sister with all her hear
t. They were the center of her world, her top priority at all times. Idly, she wondered about the handsome pilot beside her. What people were special to him? A wife or girlfriend? Parents? Maybe a son or daughter? Had he considered them when he made that blithe statement about flying being the best thing in the world?

  She was overanalyzing. That attribute was useful for a lawyer, but family and friends kept reminding her it wasn’t the most comfortable trait to bring to bear in a personal relationship. Yet her musings had distracted her from her anxiety and she felt more relaxed.

  “Lions Gate Bridge,” Aaron announced to the passengers. “Also known as First Narrows. It connects Vancouver’s Stanley Park to West Vancouver and the North Shore.”

  The view was a dramatic one of contrasts: the forest green of the park versus the high-rises of the city; the impressive and beautiful man-made span of the bridge versus the untamed ocean below; the industrial loading docks versus the rugged mountains behind. “Ottawa seems awfully”—she searched for the right description—“sedate and old-world in comparison.”

  “You’re from Ottawa?” Aaron said. “How about the rest of you?”

  “Vancouver,” one of the other women answered. “Even so, the scenery never gets old.”

  “We’re from Edmonton,” one of the men said.

  Another added, “We came out here for the fishing a few years ago and now it’s an annual thing. There’s something about fishing for salmon on the open ocean that gets into a man’s blood. Not to mention being able to take home fish you caught yourself and lord it over all the Alberta beef-eaters.”

  Fishing held no appeal to Eden and she’d had no experience with the ocean. But gazing down at tankers and sailboats gave her some small notion of what an important role the sea played in some people’s lives.