LITMIR.BIZ

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      “I swore you wouldn’t have to fly. You sure you want me to call the doc about the surgery?”

      “Do it before I have second thoughts. Besides, seeing the planes and all…well, what flyer ever voluntarily grounds him or herself?”

      Mick grinned cheekily and dusted his knuckles over her softer chin.

      THE NEXT DAY he did phone Dr. Chapman. “It’s all set,” he told Marlee. “I’ll watch you fly touch-andgoes in the Arrow this weekend. Monday you take me to Kalispell for pre-op tests. By Wednesday I’ll be the proud owner of a space-age hip.”

      “I’ll write up a note to attach to my will. I’m sure the hospital has a notary.”

      “Sounds good. By the way, I’m taking Pappy with me today.”

      That gave Marlee a chance to begin establishing a routine for Jo Beth. All in all, the girl threw only one small tantrum, insisting she wanted Grandmother Rose.

      Marlee didn’t hate Cole’s mom. But with her own worry over him and the fact that Marlee was gone often, Rose had usurped her role as Jo Beth’s mother. The first time she’d come home on rotation, and Jo Beth refused to have anything to do with her, hurt more than Marlee had ever let on. Each trip, the gap widened. Still, after Cole died it’d been a shock when Rose sued for legal custody of her granddaughter.

      The remainder of the week passed in a blur. Marlee spent four hours a day bringing order to the office. The rest of her time she divided between getting reacquainted with Jo Beth, flying, and leafing through her Mom’s old cookbooks.

      She’d totally forgotten about Wylie Ames until she picked up the phone in the office on Saturday and heard him say, “You’re still visiting, huh? It’s Ranger Ames. Tell Mick that Don Morrison will have my stuff by noon on Wednesday. I’d like them delivered Thursday.”

      “Okay.” Marlee jotted herself a note, but when she began to say she’d be the one flying in with his order, she discovered Ames had hung up. Muttering about his rude phone manners she slammed down her receiver.

      She and Mick spent Sunday afternoon discussing his regular customers and their expectations. He talked about their landing strips. “Most are primitive, sis. Only a couple of them have lights, so I try to arrange morning deliveries. The smoke jumpers’ camp has an asphalt strip. Wylie wired lights on either side of his. If he knows I’m coming in late, he’ll fire ’em up with his generator.”

      “I’ll make sure I only fly in daylight, Mick. I’m glad Ranger Ames’s parts don’t have to go out until Thursday. That way I can visit you in the hospital after your surgery, and collect his order in Kalispell.”

      “Call him Wylie. Don’t want him to think you’re uppity.”

      “Mick—all that stuff Pappy said about him… I, uh, plan on taking Jo Beth along. Is he…is it safe?”

      Mick laughed. “As a rule, I time his deliveries so I can eat lunch with Wylie. His son, Dean, is a great kid. He’s homeschooled and I take him books on wild animals. He’s always healing a bird, a raccoon, deer or squirrels. I have a couple of books waiting to give him.”

      “I don’t plan to socialize, Mick, only off-load the order.”

      Over the next few days, what with Mick being in the hospital, Marlee had so much on her mind that Wylie Ames took a back seat until it came time to pick up his order in Kalispell. Even then, her mood was much improved because the surgery had gone well. She left Mick flirting outrageously with an attractive nurse, and went to refuel the Piper Arrow. She was glad the plane handled like a dream.

      Thursday was a beauty for flying, with a clear blue sky and thready white clouds. Below stretched the orchards Mick had told her about, and the vineyards, laid out like quilt blocks. Jo Beth was excited about getting to fly, and Marlee, who’d worried how her daughter would do, finally relaxed.

      Having decided to make the ranger station her first drop, Marlee spotted the landmarks Mick had mentioned. It wasn’t long before a runway came into view. She circled once to get the layout and to test the wind. As she started down, Jo Beth pointed. “Mama, there’s a boy waving.” Jo Beth waved back, and Marlee noticed a man standing at the end of the runway.

      She throttled back, frankly unable to take her eyes off him. His dark presence embodied every last one of Pappy’s innuendos and warnings. It flashed through Marlee’s mind that from a distance, the dark-haired, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped man reminded her of Cole before he’d taken ill and his body had wasted away. Suddenly her hands shook and the plane dipped. She quickly regained control, but landed with an irritating little hop. A beginner’s mistake that unnerved her as she powered down. Ripping off her headset, Marlee leaped from the cockpit and shook out her hair, only to discover, as she watched the taciturn Wylie Ames, that he watched her, too.

      Marlee hurried around the Piper’s nose to assist Jo Beth. For some reason, Marlee disliked the fact that Ames was too far away for her to see the color of his eyes. Ace-of-spades black would be her guess—to go with the scowl he wore.

      A shiver of apprehension wound up her backbone seconds before she decided not to let Pappy’s rumors affect her. She purposely stiffened her spine.

      CHAPTER TWO

      WYLIE AMES MOTIONED to his excited eight-year-old son, Dean, to stay back until Mick Callen’s charter plane came to a full stop. Then the ranger saw a woman at the controls. Where was Mick? Damn. Wylie always looked forward to the bush pilot’s visits. So did Dean. Their outpost did get lonely. Not that Wylie minded solitude so much, but it was hard on his son, who was by nature more sociable.

      Whoa! Not one but two females had invaded his bastion, Wylie saw, as the woman hurried around the plane to assist a child from the passenger side. A curly-haired girl.

      The pilot studied him warily. Wylie figured she must be the woman he’d talked to on the phone—Mick’s sister. He couldn’t help but wonder what she might’ve heard about him. Right now, while Wylie stared into the sun, she had the advantage of checking him out. Even shading his eyes with a hand allowed him only sketchy impressions. So, he moved into the trees.

      She was tall for a woman, and thin as a conifer sapling. Her hair was something, though. Like honey fresh from the comb. The thick mass fell to well below her shoulders. Nice. Very nice.

      As she stepped out of the sun and he was afforded a better view, Wylie felt a kick to his sternum that left him gasping for air. He told himself to get a grip. He’d banned reactions of that kind long ago.

      He clamped his back teeth tight as Dean bolted past on his way to greet the new arrivals. Feet welded in place, Wylie had some furious thoughts for Mick Callen. What the hell was his friend thinking? Of course, it was his right to put his own plane at risk. But there was the matter of Wylie’s shipment…. Parts for his ancient generator came at a premium and were getting harder to locate. Out here in the wilderness, a generator was vital, especially during tough winters.

      His son’s chatter, followed by a higher-pitched response, shook Wylie from his thoughts in time to see the pilot lift a wood crate from the cargo hold. It was evident from her stiff steps that the crate weighed probably as much as she did.

      “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, striding over to relieve her of her load. Up close, it looked to him as if she’d break more easily than a sapling. Irritation made him muscle her aside none too gently, and he carried the crate the rest of the way. “I don’t know why Mick sent you, but he should have his head examined. This stuff’s too heavy for a woman.”

      Marlee, already simmering at being assessed by this backwoods oaf, glared up—and at just over five foot nine herself, there weren’t a lot of men she had to tip her head back to meet eye to eye. Confronted instead by Ames’s broad back, she wheeled and stalked to the plane to haul out another crate.

      His expression was dour as he hustled toward her and reached for her load. Marlee offered a slight curl of her upper lip that some might mistake

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