rontational approach. “It’s very beautiful up here,
thank you.”
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
“Impressive that you can do this.”
“Flattery from you, Miss Steele? But I’m a man of
many talents.”
“I’m fully aware of that, Mr. Grey.”
He turns and smirks at me, and for the first time in five
days, I relax a little. Perhaps this won’t be so bad.
“How’s the new job?”
“Good, thank you. Interesting.”
“What’s your boss like?”
“Oh, he’s okay.” How can I tell Christian that Jack
makes me uncomfortable? Christian turns and gazes at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Aside from the obvious, nothing.”
“The obvious?”
“Oh, Christian, you really are very ob一tuse sometimes.”
“Oh, Christian, you really are very ob一tuse sometimes.”
“Ob一tuse? Me? I’m not sure I appreciate your tone,
Miss Steele.”
“Well, don’t then.”
His lips twitch into a smile. “I ha一ve missed your smart
mouth.”
I gasp and I want to shout, I’ve missed you—all of
you—not just your mouth! But I keep quiet and gaze out
the glass fishbowl that is Charlie Tango’s windshield as we
continue south. The dusk is to our right, the sun low on the
horizon—large, blazing fiery orange—and I am Icarus
again, flying far too close.
The dusk has followed us from Seattle, and the sky is
awash with opal, pinks, and aquamarines woven
seamlessly together as only Mother Nature knows how.
It’s a clear, crisp evening, and the lights of Portland
twinkle and wink, welcoming us as Christian sets the
helicopter down on the helipad. We are on top of the
strange brown brick building in Portland we left less than
three weeks ago.
Jeez, it’s been hardly any time at all. Yet I feel like I’ve
known Christian for a lifetime. He powers down Charlie
Tango, flipping various switches so the rotors stop, and
eventually all I hear is my own breathing through the
headphones. Hmm. Briefly it reminds me of the Thomas
Tallis experience. I blanch. I so don’t want to go there
right now.
Christian unbuckles his harness and leans across to
undo mine.
“Good trip, Miss Steele?” he
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