Jedi, as intuitive as he was, didn’t seem to understand the higher points of fashion. Maybe it had to do with the color blindness of dogs. Or maybe he just hadn’t grown up enough to have developed a keen fashion sense. Either way, the dog just stood there, eyes questioning, completely focused on Greg. He didn’t even seem to notice the service vest.

  Which made Greg quick to change his stance and his tone as he said, “You ready to get to work? Wendy’s going to be home soon.”

  And Greg was hoping to be gone by that time.

  He’d see her the next morning. At the hangar. He was taking a breather from her until then.

  Or so he’d planned.

  A few minutes before she was due to be off work, a full twenty before he expected her home, he was just feeding Jedi his last treat for successfully completing his charge, when he heard the door open from the garage into the kitchen.

  Damn.

  He needed a break from the sexy accountant slash dog foster mom.

  Less than a minute after he’d heard the garage door, there she was, all gorgeous in her beige pants and white sleeveless blouse, with that braid hanging over one shoulder, her fingers working the end of it. As soon as she spotted them, she headed out the screen door to join them on the back porch.

  Jedi, who’d been officially dismissed, bounded up in puppy exuberance to greet her. Probably telling her, in his own way, that he’d successfully completed every single one of his tasks and had even gotten to take a walk in the park.

  And at Wendy’s affirmation that Jedi was a good boy, Greg figured the message had been received. Not a word had been said, but she was giving Jedi his due.

  But as she bent down to touch noses with the dog and ran her hands along the sides of his neck, Greg lost his good humor.

  Did she have to be pouring affection out so liberally in front of him?

  Before his body had a chance to forget the feel of those hands on his own neck?

  Was she trying to kill him?

  Which reminded him: if she was planning to have Jedi dressed out to work the next morning...

  “What’s with the jewels and all the other decoration on the service vest?” he shot at her.

  Standing, she frowned. “What?” Then, as her brow cleared, she said, “You saw the table in the spare room?”

  “Jedi was barking at a guy riding a bike, and I followed him into the room to see what was going on.”

  She knew the dog went from window to window across the front of the house—traveling between rooms as he did so—whenever he thought a bicycle might be anywhere nearby.

  “Yeah, that’s for Furever Paws,” she said a little absently, paying most of her attention to the dog, her back almost completely to Greg. “With all of the unexpected rescues and subsequent expenses from that backyard breeder, they’re really starting to feel the crunch, so they’re setting up this doggy fashion show as part of our fall festival to serve as a fundraiser.”

  A dog fashion show.

  The vest was for a show.

  The rush of relief felt good. Until it lowered his defenses against her. And left him floundering out there for a moment. “I could help,” he announced. Help the shelter. Or even just with Jedi’s expenses.

  Made sense. He had the money. And thinking about it took his mind off other things.

  Like wanting to kiss her again.

  “You want to sponsor a dog for the fashion show?”

  Uh, no.

  “I’m putting up the money on behalf of Pets for Vets,” she said. “And showing Jedi.”

  “I’m not interested in showing a pet in a fashion show, if that’s what you’re asking.” And then, getting some of his sense in order, he said in a calmer tone, “I can pay for a sponsorship, though. On behalf of Pilots for Paws. Anonymously. Or just make a donation to Furever Paws.”

  He should have thought of making a donation already. He knew Jedi had been in bad shape, knew that his medical expenses had been high. “I owe Jedi big-time.” His voice evened out as the idea gained momentum. “After what he did with Duke...”

  Wendy turned, her face unsmiling as she studied him. How could those green eyes express so many thoughts and feelings just by looking at him?

  Was he imagining things? Making up the caring he thought he saw there?

  “I think a sponsorship in the name of Pilots for Paws would be a great idea,” she said, sounding odd, a bit dry-mouthed. “Not only would it help raise money for a very worthy program, but it will generate publicity for the pilot program, too. We could maybe do an article for the local paper about our two programs working together to get service dogs to veterans across the state and beyond.”

  Yeah. Publicity. A business move.

  Her justification tied things up in a neat and clean fashion. Because if they were “working together,” as she’d so perfectly put it, how could they be anything more?

  They couldn’t. And they shouldn’t.

  And, as he got the hell out of there, he took away a lesson from the exchange.

  Probably best to keep things strictly business between him and Wendy.

  He’d much rather that than have things get so awkward between them that they’d choose not to see each other anymore.

  And he had a pretty strong hunch that if they didn’t get things under control, that was just where they were headed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Don’t look down. Stay outward-focused. Think of Greg and Jedi, not yourself. Pay attention to how they’re doing, not on what the plane is doing. Touch Jedi if you start to get scared. Look at him.

  If all else fails, think about kissing Greg again.

  The strategies ran through Wendy’s head as she drove her SUV toward the airstrip where she and Jedi were meeting Greg.

  The dog, having no idea what he was in for, sat calmly beside her, watching the world speed by them, seemingly without a care in the world.

  He’d started his life neglected and seemed happy just to be cared for. Anything else, he seemed to take in stride. A powerful lesson to her.

  “Maybe I should adopt you myself,” she told the young dog. When he turned those big brown eyes on her, looking at her as though he could read her thoughts, she nodded. “Yeah, I know. You’re made for bigger stuff than hanging out and being my family member,” she told him. “You’re going to give someone who’s been hurt their best life and be their family member.”

  But she couldn’t leave it at that.

  “You know I wish it was Greg, don’t you? If he needs you like I think he does?”

  The dog glanced at her and then immediately back to the front window.

  She took that as a yes.

  For some reason, as she turned on the road Greg had directed her to, she actually felt stronger after that exchange than she had since Thursday night. After making a couple of more turns, she found his hangar along the dozen or so that were spaced out evenly to the left of a single runway.

  It helped that they were the only ones out there that early so his SUV couldn’t be missed.

  She saw the plane, too. Knew it immediately as the one she’d delivered dogs to countless times over the past several years.

  And immediately looked away.

  She’d never felt frightened or intimidated at the sight of the plane before. But then, she’d never been about to go up in it on any of the previous times they’d had their encounters.

  And her little drama wasn’t even on the radar that morning, in terms of important events about to happen.

  Was Greg ready?

  Feeling jittery? Worried?

  Had he had a nightmare the night before?

  Would he let Jedi help him?

  Funny how it didn’t occur to her to wonder if Jedi was ready. She wasn’t at all concerned about his ability to help Greg.

  “You’re going to learn how to fly today, Jedi!” she told him, her tone upbeat and confident. Exactly what he needed from his handler so that he would go into the event calm and confident himself. The pup fed off her energy, viewing the world in the way she framed it for him. She knew that.

  And for that reason, she had to keep her own stress level down to nonexistent.

  If she didn’t, Jedi could fail his test, fail Greg.

  And she wasn’t going to let that happen.

  Not because of an irrational fear that had no basis in reality.

  She had no demons to fight, no traumatic event that had caused reason-based fear.

  She wasn’t Michael.

  Or Greg.

  But, oh boy, Greg was Greg, in full flavor, as he smiled at her when she got out of her SUV. In black shorts, a white T-shirt and tennis shoes, with his longish hair windblown and his beard reminding her of how his lips had felt against hers, he was too delicious for words.

  She’d probably have dropped right there on the tarmac for him if he’d asked...if she hadn’t had Jedi there, of course.

  And more important business to tend to.

  But the idea was undeniably intriguing...and she toyed with different versions of it while Greg, all business and giving no indication of any nervousness, finished preflight checks, and they gave Jedi time to familiarize himself with the inside of the small plane.

  With Greg in his seat, she stood on the step just outside the plane and watched the dog. Jedi explored, exhibiting the curiosity of a kid, and then sat on the floor, just behind and between the two front seats.

  “You’ve got a full back seat there.” She said aloud what she’d just noticed. “I thought it was only cargo space.”

  “Usually it is. The seat is removable.”

  A back seat.

  Or a godsend, depending on how you looked at it. “I’ll strap in back here,” she said then, climbing in. “I’ll be close if he needs me, but out of the way.”

  Out of both of their ways, she thought as she buckled herself in.

  The flight was about Greg and Jedi.

  Not about her.

  “You strapped in and ready?” Greg turned in his seat to look at her, sounding confident, and not the least bit nervous.

  The headset he wore gave him a commanding look that tweaked at her lower parts, and she let herself go with it. “Yep,” she looked him in the eye. Smiled.

  When he smiled back, exuding testosterone as his gaze held hers, she was pretty sure he knew where her thoughts had landed.

  * * *

  Greg made it out to the turn that would take him to the runway as he had countless times before. His mind on the flight path, the sun coming up fully in a cerulean background and the woman in his back seat.

  He stopped there, waiting for the okay to take off, and, as had happened every time in the past week, his stomach knotted. There was no joy. No anticipation.

  His headset crackled, signaling a voice coming on, and as he reached with both hands for the yoke, his right hand jutted upward and missed.

  Jedi. Nudging him from behind his arm. As though the boy could read his mind.

  As Greg corrected his hand’s position after the dog’s mishap, he got his permission to take off, turned on the runway and up he went.

  Perfectly. As though he’d taken off a hundred times before, he reminded himself with a touch of sarcasm.

  Times a few.

  The route was short. Out to Jordan Lake, circling around Seaforth Beach and back. Chosen for Wendy’s benefit.

  As a surprise to her.

  He figured if she was giving up the little bit of free time she had to help Jedi complete his training, then he’d give her a little gift as recompense.

  An aerial view of a wonderful childhood memory.

  As he flew, he pictured her face as he’d seen it on the beach, relaying her memory of her older brother throwing her in the air. And realized that he was smiling.

  Doing what he loved and smiling.

  Life didn’t get any better than that.

  Ecstasy and peace, right there together. Once again.

  Having Wendy and Jedi along for the ride... They’d done this for him. With him. An odd concept for him, being on the receiving end of the giving. But it felt right.

  Less than an hour after he’d secured the plane’s door for takeoff, Greg pulled the aircraft back into the hangar, his adrenaline pumping full steam.

  Smiling so big it hurt, he turned to check on Jedi, who, other than that first bump, had been quietly absent from the cockpit, and to let Wendy know that he was back in action. Ready to fly for her program.

  He’d take the next dog up and all the ones after that.

  Bring them on...

  The words ready to burst off his lips got lost after his first glimpse of her. She was smiling at him, but her lips were trembling. As was the hand that held out Jedi’s leash to him.

  The dog half lay on her lap.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his stomach sinking. Had Jedi been in trouble and he hadn’t known? Hadn’t noticed? “What happened? Did he get sick?”

  The floor, the empty parts of the seat, showed no evidence, but...

  “He did great!” she said, the influx of enthusiasm in her tone clearly fake. Forced. She hugged the dog as she set his front paws on the floor, every movement a little off her mark. “Didn’t you, boy?”

  Greg led the dog up front and then out. And then he waited to help her down.

  When her fingers grasped his, tight and trembling, he stared.

  “You were scared. You didn’t trust me to be able to do it.” Had he just sounded hurt?

  Did she actually think he’d have gone up, risking her life and Jedi’s—and anyone’s on the ground who could have been hit by a crash—if he hadn’t been sure he could do it? He hadn’t gone up the first time, solo, until he’d been sure he was capable of getting the plane back down safely. He’d spent time in the cockpit, on the runway, found his flight sense before he’d gone up. After that, his struggle had been enjoying the experience. Not letting fear stop him from wanting to fly. Surely she’d have known that about him.

  Letting go of his hand, she took a couple of steps toward the hangar entry, her back to him, and then turned and said, “On the contrary, Greg. I trusted you so much I went up in spite of my ridiculous fear of heights.”

  With that, she called Jedi, led him to her SUV, climbed in and, without even a wave, drove away.

  He couldn’t follow her.

  She knew he couldn’t follow her since he had to tend to the plane.

  Watching her vehicle pull out onto the main road in the distance, he stood there, feeling kind of... insulted.

  Not for the reason he’d felt insulted just a minute ago. Despite what he’d thought, it was clear that Wendy truly did trust him as a pilot. There was a kernel of comfort in that. But it was outweighed by the proof that she didn’t seem to trust him as a friend.

  It was okay for her to insinuate herself into his well-being, to insist that he spend a night on her couch so she’d know he was okay, but she wouldn’t let him even see her struggle with a normal, common fear?

  What was up with that?

  He was affronted. But also wanted to comfort her.

  Who better than he to help someone through a little bout of irrational anxiety?

  Because he was proof that you could get through it.

  Seriously, was he no more to her than another one of her...her...clients?

  He pulled himself up short at that. Did he want to be more than that? Of course he didn’t want to be a project or an object of pity for her, but did he want something else? Something other than what they had been for the past few years? They were work partners.

  What more did he want?

  Maybe...maybe they could be work partners who helped each other through an occasional moment.

  Like the fear of heights trigger she’d suffered that morning.

  He could envision it. Liked it.

  And thought of the way his body had lit up by a mere playful touch of her hand on his shoulder. And then that kiss...

  Not a work moment. In any fashion.

  So his plan had flaws.

  But he absolutely could not ask her to be a friend and work partner who occasionally had sex with him.

  No matter how much interest the idea held for him.

  There were some things he could not have. Same for him as everyone else. Just a part of life.

  So he thought of what he could have. What he’d just regained. His joy of flying.

  He was ready to take the plane up again. A longer flight. Maybe to Charlotte. His parents were arriving that day to visit his sister who’d recently announced she was pregnant with what would be their first grandchild.

  And, he was sure, so his mother could make sure he was really okay since he hadn’t been talking about the various flights he’d taken recently—normally the only thing he spoke about during their weekly conversations. After thirty-three years with them, he knew how it all went.

  Knew, too, that things would go easier on him if he went to them before they took it upon themselves to drive over to him.

  And also, maybe he missed them and wanted to see them.

  Sunday would be better. Give them a day to recover from the long flight. To get settled in. Catch up with his sisters over coffee. So, with a full day ahead of him to fill, he could head to the ocean, do a flyover, maybe land and get some lunch, be back before dark...

  His phone rang.

  Wendy. Staring at the name on his screen didn’t make it go away. Didn’t make her appear, either.

  “Yeah?” He had to know that she was okay. She’d been upset when she’d left.

  “I suck at other people seeing my weak moments.”

  Leaning back on his plane, he looked out at the sunlight reflecting off the tarmac. “If this morning was anything to judge by, I’d have to agree with you there.”

  “You had a great morning!”