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her ski jacket was unzipped, revealing a tight sweater beneath. It was cold enough her nipples were two tight little points through the sweater. Her bra must be thin. Or she wasn’t wearing one. The thought got him all riled up below the belt.
    Her lips tightened into a thin line again and she zipped up her coat.
    Dammit. His face heated and he brought his gaze to hers. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
    For the first time he wondered why she was here. Sneaking into his plane, hiding out. Chasing after a years-old story. She must be desperate. Surely there were hundreds of other more important things happening in the world she could be reporting on.
    â€œSo, can you fix it?”
    He pulled the oxyacetylene torch kit out of the crate and prayed he had enough propane. Then he unloaded the rest of the stuff, turned the crate upside down and sat on it. At least one of them would have a dry butt.
    â€œHow much do you weigh?”
    She sputtered. “Excuse me?”
    â€œEnough to unbalance the center of gravity in myplane and stall the engine? Say, one-twenty? One twenty-five?”
    â€œGee, you sure know how to charm a girl.”
    He just raised a brow.
    She pursed her lips. “That’s close enough.”
    â€œHere’s what we’re going to do.” He stood and went to retrieve one of the coolers. “I’m going to tip the plane over.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œJust listen.” He set the cooler next to the wing opposite the bent strut and went back for the second cooler. “When I tip the plane, you’re going to climb onto the wing over there with a cooler on either side of you.”
    When he turned with the other cooler in his arms she’d narrowed her eyes at him. “And when you yank down the other wing I go flying off, never to be seen again?”
    Never to be seen again. Like his friends.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said. “Bad joke.”
    He came back to the present, the heavy cooler straining the muscles in his arms. He carried it around to join the other, and the woman followed him.
    â€œIs your name really Serena?”
    She nodded. “Serena Sandstone. Named after my paternal grandmother.”
    â€œIf this doesn’t work, I’ll have to go into the forest and cut some timber to act as a jack. That could take hours.”
    â€œWell, let’s get started then.” She dusted her hands together.
    Â 
    S ERENA BIT her lip and clenched her hands into fists as soon as Max turned away from her. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep up the pretense of undaunted confidence. She had a feeling she wasn’t fooling anyone but herself, anyway.
    Max went around, squatted beside the bent wheel and positioned his hands under the fuselage. “Ready?” he shouted.
    â€œReady,” she shouted back.
    As he pushed up, Serena looked her fill of bulging thigh muscles beneath his jeans. His teeth shone as he gritted them, grunting as he strained to lift the side of the plane. Was it antifeminist to be totally impressed with his he-man strength?
    The passenger side wing lowered and she lifted first one cooler on and then the other, doing a bit of straining herself. Then she searched for a handhold, found a raised steel bar under the fiberglass, hoisted herself up and twisted to sit on her already wet butt.
    â€œI think that’s going to work,” he called.
    â€œGood,” she yelled back.
    She heard a click and a whoosh and assumed he was lighting that welder-looking thing attached to the two tiny fuel tanks. He didn’t speak and every so often she’d hear him hammering on the metal. She drew her knees up, pulled her hood over her head and stuck her gloved hands under her armpits. It seemed as if hours passed.
    She wished she had her purse up here. There was a candy bar in there, for sure, and a package of peanut butter crackers. Her mouth started watering.
    Max never spoke except for an occasional