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now,” he finished lamely.
    She stood up, pacing. That was too late. Louie must be exhausted from the flight, and she needed him in good working order by tomorrow morning. Suddenly she snapped her fingers. “Filipo, contact Señor Tobbar on the radio and ask him to get up here pronto.”
    Dominic Tobbar stuck his head in her office fifteen minutes later. “Filipo said it was urgent.”
    Cait put down her pen. “Not urgent, but important. Can I collect on that favor you said you owed me?”
    His eyes danced with silent laughter. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”
    “A quick flight to BA. Right now.”
    “Business or personal?” he teased.
    Cait returned his grin and picked up her hard hat. “Business. My cost controller just flew into BA, and I need him up here right away.”
    “Ah, I see. You intend to bolt his body to the records trailer early tomorrow morning, right?”
    She laughed, following him out of the trailer and climbing into a truck. “How’d you guess?”
    “You’re quickly getting a reputation around here as Simon Legree, you know.” He climbed into the driver’s seat.
    “I’ll do anything short of selling my soul, to get this project back on schedule,” she promised fervently.
    He swung the truck out of the office area and headed toward the airstrip. A hot wind moved through the cab, for which Cait was thankful. Thinking of her appearance, she muttered a curse under her breath, and Tobbar cocked his head in her direction.
    “What are you grousing about now?”
    “Oh, nothing, really. I just wish I didn’t have to go into Ezeiza looking like a dust ball. All those gorgeously clad women in the terminal will die when they see me.” Dominic laughed. “Señora Monahan, believe me when I say you would put ninety percent of them to shame. Not many women can fill out a pair of jeans and a shirt so nicely.”
    She wasn’t sure whether to protest, say thank you or get angry. Instead a blush stained her cheeks, and she closed her mouth, staring out the window, her pulse skipping erratically. She remained deep in thought for the two-hour flight to BA, using the time to sketch out several areas in which Louie Henning might want to begin investigating. By keeping busy, Cait tried to ignore the powerful presence of Dominic, but in such close quarters she felt overwhelmed by him. Admittedly he was now more a friend than an adversary, Cait decided as she stared out the cockpit window. Still, she felt threatened by him.
    Since landing in Argentina she had been immersed in her job. Not once, not until now, had she thought of Dave or their happy marriage. Her thick lashes swept down across her cheeks, and she felt the sting of hot tears. He would be proud of the job she was, doing. A desperate longing filled her heart—she missed him. Now she had no one to tell her she was doing a good or bad job. She was in a position of authority that would cause men to silently hate her, yet she had no ally, no confidante.
    “Got a headache?” Dominic inquired quietly.
    Cait raised her head. “No—not really. A sort of one,” she admitted.
    “Damn lonely up on that perch, isn’t it?”
    She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Sometimes I’d rather be a turkey.”
    “An old American saying?”
    She stretched languidly, like a cat awakening from a nap. “Yes. ‘I’d rather soar with the eagles than fly with a bunch of turkeys.’ Which means I’d rather do it alone than get fouled up with a bunch of aimless idiots.”
    His eyes danced. “Some days, it’s safer to be a turkey. You can avoid people like Cirre. Right?”
    She nodded, pulling out the pins that held her chignon in place. “True. I enjoy a challenging project like this, but it beats the hell out of my emotions.”
    “Welcome to the club, Cait.” There was a longing look in his eyes as she unwound her captive tresses and allowed them to spill down over her left shoulder. He reached out, sliding his fingers through her hair and sending a