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“A suncatcher.”
The somewhat childish term didn’t offend her. Instead, she smiled faintly. “Yes. Higher end, of course. But yes.”
I walked to the helicopter and then removed the narrow cardboard box I’d stowed within. Wordlessly, I handed it to her.
She withdrew one of the blue-tinted rectangular boxes of glass. They’d been treated with special paint to enhance the glass’s reflective qualities and the base was sturdy enough to hold a battery-operated tealight. Or a real
candle if someone was feeling brave.
“A lantern,” she said, tracing her finger over the embossed words along the base.
Find Jimmy.
Not pray for him, not think about him, not spread the word. He needed to be found.
“With enough light, you can banish the darkness.” As soon as the words were out, I looked away, feeling like a grade-A asshole. But when I glanced back at her, she was still studying the lantern, nodding.
“So I guess my suncatcher needs to be bigger.”
I don’t know why that made me laugh, but it did. I’d never known anyone who understood what it was to marry art and business, even if we were on opposite sides of that table.
Opposites in so many ways.
“Come,” I murmured, gesturing to the helicopter. “We don’t want to be late.”
“We’re really taking this?”
“We really are. Unless you don’t like flying?”
“No, I love it. Like seriously frigging love it. But oh my God, it’s been so long. And never in one of these!” She hopped up into the passenger side like a pro and set the box of lanterns between her feet, then started tugging at the harness.
She went still as I leaned in to secure the straps. The side of my hand brushed her breast—and her hard nipple—and she sucked in a breath as I turned my head.
“Feel okay?” I asked, fixated on her mouth. She’d glossed it with a coat of barely pink lipstick and the shade made her lips look even plumper than normal.
“Y-yeah. Umm, not that this isn’t hella cool and all, but you’re not going to pull a Christian Grey, right? There’s an actual pilot that goes with this ride, isn’t there?”
I frowned. “You’re comparing me to a man who has his hired help clean his butt plugs?”
She coughed and covered her mouth with her hand. “Excuse me, what?”
“Or so I’ve heard,” I added. “I haven’t actually read it.”
But Jack had, due to some pushy ex-girlfriend, and he’d delighted in telling me that little factoid. Yet another thing he’d tossed at me to drive me insane.
The guy should have a degree in the art.
“Yes, there’s an actual pilot, and it’s me. If you don’t trust me to get you to Springfield safely—”
“How many flights have you actually piloted?”
“Hundreds, beyond flight training, of course. It was one of my first indulgences, learning to fly. As was this helicopter.”
“Seems like you indulge yourself a lot.”
I shifted my head until our faces were close, so close that her cinnamon-scented breath wafted over my lips. I didn’t know if the smell came from candy, gum or toothpaste, but that hint of spice drew me more strongly than mint ever would.
“More lately,” I said softly, searching her gaze, “but not nearly enough.”
