LITMIR.BIZ

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up a tan flying jacket, so similar to his own, which lay by the desk.

      Which was as far as she got, because, when she turned, Ryan Douglas’s large frame blocked her exit. Involuntarily she reared back a step, eyes sending out icy darts, even as her brain registered the shock-wave of heat which had seemed to flow from him, and the tangy scent of his aftershave. ‘Excuse me,’ she said pointedly, hands tightening on the leather in automatic rejection of the way her senses had rioted in response.

      Dear lord, the very last thing she had ever expected or wanted was to be attracted to this man! But she knew herself now, recognising the singing rush of blood through her veins had nothing to do with loathing. The thought brought with it a sickening self-contempt. Scornfully she asked herself why she should be surprised. He was just like Jean-Luc, a user, and heaven knew her weakness there! Would she never learn?

      ‘And just where the hell do you think you’re going?’ he demanded tersely.

      Mickey ground her teeth, grateful for a fresh surge of dislike. ‘If you’ll just get out of the way, I’m leaving, which will please both of us no end!’ she returned pithily.

      One long arm reached out, his hand closing on her arm and cutting off the blood. ‘Oh, no, you don’t! I hired you, and I sure haven’t fired you.’

      She tried to pull free, alarmed to feel the imprint of each finger and the warmth of his palm, but he foiled the attempt with ease, which only made her angrier. ‘A formality, surely. After all, like it or not, I am a woman, and you don’t like them if they have brains, do you, Mr Douglas?’ she scorned.

      His hold relaxed slightly, and a lazy warmth entered his eyes, deepening the blue to mysterious depths. ‘Oh, I like all sorts of women. At least, women who look like women. I simply don’t work with them because they’re trouble. They always try to mix business with pleasure.’

      Dear God, the man was insufferable, and if she kept thinking that way the fledgling attraction would wither and die. ‘Meaning you think you’re irresistible? Well, here’s one woman who disagrees!’

      ‘But then you’re not a real woman, are you, Mickey Hanlon?’ he taunted softly, and she paled, her breath catching at the unexpectedly sharp dart of pain which shot through her.

      It took a real effort to hold his gaze and not reveal just how he had got to her. By ‘real woman’, no doubt he meant some mindless sex object, and that she refused to be ever again. ‘Whatever my supposed failings, I’ll be taking them with me when I go.’ Which couldn’t be soon enough as far as she was concerned.

      ‘And just where am I going to get another pilot at such short notice?’ Ryan Douglas ground out harshly.

      Of all the arrogant...! He thought he could say what he liked and still get her co-operation. Not this time. ‘That’s your problem. You made the rules. No women, remember? So goodbye, Mr Douglas.’ When she tugged at her arm again, she found herself instantly released. However, the sense of freedom was fleeting.

      ‘Leave here, and I’ll sue you for breach of contract.’

      The threat halted her in the doorway, and she turned swiftly. He was smiling, but the smile on his lips failed to reach his eyes, and she shivered atavistically. ‘You can’t be serious?’

      He laughed drily. ‘I’ve never been more so.’

      Mickey took a steadying breath. If ever there was a time for caution, this was it. ‘But you don’t want me,’ she pointed out, then mentally kicked herself as she realised how unfortunate the statement was.

      It wasn’t lost on him. One sardonic eyebrow rose. ‘An apt choice of words. Unfortunately, time is short, and if you’re the owner of this...establishment, then it has to be you I deal with,’ he declared grimly, mouth hardening into an indomitable line.

      While common sense was telling Mickey she should get out of there as fast as her legs could carry her, she knew his threat was far from just talk. While it was unnerving, she was brought up short with a reminder that she was reacting most unprofessionally. She had never walked out on a job yet, but, more than that, she couldn’t risk her whole livelihood so recklessly. Though it galled her to do it, she curbed her dislike. ‘What are you suggesting? That I put one of my male pilots at your disposal?’ she challenged, determined to be as professional as she knew how.

      A devilish amusement quirked at his lips, but a glance at his eyes would have shown them to be as hard as diamonds. ‘The contract specifically states that M. Hanlon is to be my pilot. That being the case, I’m prepared to overlook the fact that you’re a woman. After all, you’re doing your best to pretend you aren’t one. And I’ve a feeling you’ll agree to the compromise, because you think you’re a match for any man, don’t you, Mickey—short for Michaela—Hanlon?’

      There were good reasons for Mickey’s chosen lifestyle, but that wasn’t one of them. Not that she was about to explain herself to this man. ‘I’m a professional, Mr Douglas. That’s why you hired me, and that’s what you’ll get. However, I may have signed a contract with you, but it doesn’t give you the right to throw insults at me all day long,’ she protested, determined to set some ground rules here and now.

      Taking off his hat, Ryan Douglas raked a hand through his hair. ‘You’ll have to learn to develop a thick skin to go with the trousers if you want to be taken seriously, Hanlon,’ he observed drily, before settling the hat back more comfortably. ‘OK, now you’d better show me round.’

      She had been just about to protest the scathing use of her surname, but his command halted the flow. This was something she hadn’t taken into consideration. She had no reason to be ashamed of her fleet, although two of her float planes were temporarily out of commission, waiting for spares—which also cost money, so that they were seriously considering cannibalising one to keep the others air-worthy. And there was no denying that the adapted boat shed had seen better days. Even the sign was faded and flaking.

      ‘Is that absolutely necessary?’ she queried stiffly, knowing that an outright refusal would only make him suspect she had something far more serious to hide than bad paintwork.

      A fact not lost on him as he stared her out. ‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t take a look?’

      A reason other than that she disliked him intensely? ‘None at all,’ she said coldly, and led the way out with head held high.

      There was not much to see, and she showed him round both inside and out on the jetty with her back ramrod-straight. It didn’t help to view her property through his eyes, noticing where several boards needed replacing here, or a coat of paint was needed there. For an instant she wished she had asked Leah for a loan after all, but knew the reasons for not doing so hadn’t changed. Just because someone had money, it didn’t mean you had the right to ask for some of it, even if they were your family.

      Recalling that made her wonder once again what Leah was doing. It was unlike her not to have been in touch, and she made a mental note to write to Sophie the minute she got home tonight.

      A sharp question brought her back to her major problem, and, biting back the urge to defend the depressingly seedy look of things, Mickey kept her observations brief and to the point. She knew that where it counted, namely the float planes, everything was in good order. Sid regularly serviced each machine, just as he was now doing to hers. For his part, Ryan Douglas said little, merely took everything in non-committally. Only when they had returned to the office did he turn a poker face her way.

      ‘Right, I’ve seen enough; let’s go.’

      Having been expecting a scathing indictment of her company, Mickey was taken aback. ‘Go? Go where?’

      That pitying look she was fast coming to loathe returned to his face. ‘To dinner, of course. I’ve just had one hell of a journey, and I’m tired and hungry. I’m booked into the Crest Motor Hotel, so we’ll eat there.’

      His assumption that she would simply fall in with whatever plan he chose was like waving a red rag. Once she might have slavishly obeyed any

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