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brushed hers. “All you had to do was ask.”
    Yeah, yeah. She followed him back into the office, watching over her shoulder to see who was looking, shutting the door to give them some privacy. “Now.” But one look at Bo had the words falling right out of her head.
    He was unbuttoning his shirt.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” she asked weakly.
    â€œYou said hurry.” A wedge of sinewy, tanned skin appeared. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, exposing his chest, the defined pecs, the correlated ridges of his ribs, his belly—
    â€œNo.” She loved that spot on a man, so hard with strength yet so vulnerable, loved to put her mouth there—No. Concentrate! “Bo, I didn’t mean—”
    His hands went to the buttons on his Levi’s.
    Pop.
    Pop.
    â€œW-wait!” She forced her gaze up, up into his. “Seriously. I didn’t mean—” But at the laughter in his eyes she trailed off, her eye twitching. He was messing with her . And doing a damn fine job of it, too, standing there looking like sin on a stick. She was torn between the urge to kill him and wanting, with sudden, shocking violence, to gobble him up in one bite. It was so unfair that he looked as good as he did, that he sounded so yummy with that accent, that when he smiled, he looked even better. Where was the justice in that? She slapped her hands over her eyes. “Get your clothes back on!”
    He let out another soft laugh that had her every erogenous zone doing a tap dance. But she had great control, and she waited until she heard rustling before lowering her hands, telling herself she was relieved that he’d gotten his shirt back on. Yep, very relieved. “And whatever you do, don’t be waving that deed around again!”
    In the act of buttoning his shirt, he went still, then stepped close.
    It was wrong, but all Mel could think about was his Levi’s. And how they were still undone. She let her gaze fall to his chest, his belly, trying to see—
    â€œMel.”
    She closed her eyes, a defense mechanism.
    â€œMel .”
    Reluctantly, she looked at him.
    â€œYeah, there you go,” he said in a tone that made her forget the Levi’s and want to kick him again. “The fact is I’m here.” His eyes were determined, hair tousled, mouth half-curved, his big body far too close. “I’m staying. And because I happen to hold the deed and you do not, I’ll be doling out the rules now. My rules.”

Chapter 4
    B o had an interesting day. He had no idea what Mel told everyone before she left on her charter flight, but he kept his end of the bargain. He didn’t freak anyone out by revealing the deed. At this point all he really wanted was to straighten this out with Sally.
    Privately.
    In any case, he was left alone to wander around the airport, in and out of the different hangars, refamiliarizing himself with how the place ran.
    Just being here brought back memories; of coming here with his father, high on the purchase of the ’44 Beechcraft. They’d planned on a complete renovation, then selling the RC-455 at a huge profit to start all over again.
    And then Eddie had met Sally.
    Sally’s smile had transfixed his father into a love-struck fool, and Bo could do nothing but helplessly watch as Sally broke his father’s heart so much that he’d lost concentration and driven off a bridge, plunging to his death.
    Bo had been left all alone and devastated and, yeah, he’d acted impulsively by going into the military. But it had turned out to be a good thing for him. He’d gotten his business degree and had become a pilot, and by the time he’d gotten out, he’d gone from boy to man. Then the man had been destroyed all over again when he’d finally gone through his father’s things and discovered Sally had done more than broken Eddie’s heart.
    She’d somehow conned him out of the Beechcraft and the