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Shaking himself, he checked the landscape below to make sure he wasn’t veering off track. There was the church tower in Bloomsburg. He was halfway there, if he stayed on course. Just a few more hours to distract himself from Constance.

Or daydream about her. All alone up here, who would know that he dreamed of holding her in his arms? It was a dangerous path to go down, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Running his other hand down her side, he pulled her closer and closer until they were flush against each other. She melted against him, welcoming the gentle contact. Her tender breasts crushed against his chest, pressing into him with each ragged breath she took.

Tracing his finger along the smooth line of her jaw, he tilted her head back and leaned in, unable to stop himself from tasting her.

She was so soft as he kissed her. Everything dropped away, and there was nothing left but the feeling of her lips against his own—so wrong, but so absolutely right. He was kissing Constance, and the world could end for all he cared. It was the sweetest sensation he’d ever dreamed up. Nothing could possibly move him as much as the gift she was giving him in that moment.

She tasted of fresh strawberries as she tantalized him, inviting more. Her hands ran up and down his back, fingers digging in as if she needed to be closer still. He could hardly stand it. Their kiss grew wild and desperate, and he let his hands roam, cupping the rounded cheeks of her bottom and pressing her against his arousal.

Oh God, this daydream was going too far. He really should stop and pay attention to his surroundings. Glancing down, he spotted the train station at Logantown. He was still following his route, but the daydream overtook him again almost immediately.

He trailed kisses down her smooth neck, her pulse throbbing against his lips. How could he resist when she was offering herself up, tilting her head to encourage him? The little moans she made drove him wild.

His fingers found the buttons at the back of her dress. He loosened one and then another and then another. Her dress slid down, revealing an infinitely tempting shoulder. Ravenous, he devoured the creamy skin as she quivered against him.

The dress slipped down, revealing the gentle slope of the top of her breast. He lowered his lips to feast on the newly revealed flesh, and…

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He’d flown right past the runway in Bellefonte. Circling back, he came in for a landing. Hopefully, nobody saw that.

Hard as a rock beneath his flight suit, he was grateful the bulky leather would hide his predicament.

Guilt consumed him as wheels touched grass in the quaint, Pennsylvania town in the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains. He landed on the familiar airstrip and slowed to a stop.

As soon as he climbed down, whom should he see but Ernie, waving and smiling, his unruly blond mop blowing in the breeze? Well, that was the bucket of ice he needed to deflate things.

“Jack, just the man I wanted to see,” Ernie called out, jogging over. “I was hoping we could have lunch together.”

Dammit. Never had he been less eager to see his best friend.

9

“How was your flight?” Ernie asked, as they walked along Allegheny Street past grocers and barbershops and dry goods stores, all bustling with business. The town’s entire female population seemed to be out and about doing their shopping, children in tow.

“It was good.” And I daydreamed about having my wicked way with your sister. “Can’t complain about this weather. Perfect for flying. I only hope it lasts.” Jack stifled a sudden urge to confess, though no good could come of it.

“From your mouth to God’s ears. It was nice to fly Hell’s Stretch with good visibility for once.”

Jack hated flying Hell’s Stretch. Every airmail pilot did. The combination of persistent fog and jutting mountain peaks had cost more than one good man their lives. But there was no avoiding it when flying from Bellefonte and Cleveland.

“And your flight?” Jack’s stomach rumbled as the familiar mansard roof of the imposing four-story Brockerhoff Hotel came into view. He’d stayed so often that he knew all the staff by name. It was time for a good meal in the dining room and a slice of rhubarb pie.

“Smooth as can be. I wish we had conditions like this every day.”

“If only,” Jack agreed as they headed up the steps of the main entrance into the elegantly wood-paneled lobby, studded with palms.

While Ernie was all smiles, Jack could tell he was nervous about something. He kept fiddling with his pocket watch, always a sign that something was bothering him. Jack strongly suspected he was in for another lecture about Constance. And he deserved it. Oh, how he deserved it.

But Ernie seemed in no hurry to broach the subject.

Darlene, the hostess, who had dark hair and brown eyes that reminded him a little bit of Constance, came over to seat them. As if he needed more reminders of the woman that was occupying all his thoughts.

They were seated at a table by a window where they could enjoy plenty of sunlight and a view of the street.