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been in control. She’d overcome enormous hurdles many would have run from. She was living her life.
    It made sense to do this. It was the quickest way to leave the tailing press behind.
    But a plane…
    For a nanosecond the awful flashes screamed by, but she refused to let them linger.
    She swallowed again and straightened her spine. You can do this. You have to .
    It was one thing to convince herself while they were driving, but soon they were on the tarmac, the shiny Beechcraft King Air plane awaiting them.
    She stared at the clean white lines of the turboprop plane, the large twin engines, the glossy paintwork as her heart began to race.
    Pound, pound, pound . The sudden primeval urge to run snaked low as a shaky breath jammed in her throat.
    Therapy worked. It stopped those nightmares. It helped to handle the fear and guilt. It can’t rule your life anymore .
    When she choked down a short groan, she could feel Luke’s eyes on her.
    “You don’t like flying?”
    She nodded mutely, her eyes still locked on the plane.
    “Soooo…” He paused. “You’ve never been on a plane at all?”
    “Once. It…didn’t go well.” Boy, understatement of the century. She blinked, filling her lungs slowly then emptying them again, just as she’d been taught.
    “After instrument check, it’s a fifteen-minute flight to Surfers—we go up, we come down. The whole thing will take an hour. I’ve made the trip a thousand times.”
    But it only takes one . She remained silent, her heart battering her tight chest.
    When Luke took her hand she nearly jumped out of her skin, her nerves lurching as his fingers laced intimately through hers.
    “Okay?”
    “No.”
    “You can do this.”
    With his hand enveloping hers, she let him tug her across the tarmac, the steady roar of Brisbane airport’s air traffic swirling around them.
    “Mr. De Rossi.” Their pilot stood by the stairs and nodded. “We have clearance, when you’re ready.”
    “Get us up, John.” Luke mounted the stairs, still holding her hand. Her viselike grip must have been uncomfortable, but he said nothing. His warm skin, firm fingers and cool authority were a welcome distraction, even if her breath still raced as they walked up the metal stairs one clanky footstep at a time.
    But when she stepped into the plane’s cool interior, fear was momentarily suspended.
    “Wow.” Perfectly circular tinted windows let in enough light to display the oval interior to luxurious perfection. She counted six spacious seats in soft honey leather before running her gaze over the polished mahogany paneling and fittings, the immaculate carpet, then the cockpit just beyond. She barely registered Luke’s hand slipping from hers as she took one step inside, then another.
    “Pretty cool, huh?” he said behind her.
    “It looks like a limousine.” She slowly ran her hand down one headrest.
    Just as soft as it looked. She breathed in a myriad of scents—leather, new carpet, even a faint whisper of cigar smoke. The scent of power and money.
    Then Luke shifted behind her and suddenly a luscious hint of ginger and spices, mingled with something all male, flooded her senses.
    Her heart kicked up, but whether it was from the impending flight or Luke’s proximity, she couldn’t tell.
    Then his hand was on the small of her back and she had to swallow back her nerves.
    “Take a seat and buckle up.” He nudged her forward then took the seat next to hers, the leather squealing in protest.
    She could do nothing but follow his lead.
    Luke watched Beth squeeze her eyes shut as the plane began to taxi down the runway, her breath coming short and sharp. Sweat beaded across her forehead and her grip tightened on his, threatening to cut off his blood supply. He swallowed a wince.
    “Hey. Look at me.”
    Reluctantly, her eyes edged open. “What?”
    “It’s better if you don’t shut your eyes.”
    She scowled. “What would you know about it?”
    “My aunt hates flying, too—her first and