| Author: | Rene Natan | ISBN: | 9780993827013 |
| Publisher: | Rene Natan | Publication: | September 26, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Rene Natan |
| ISBN: | 9780993827013 |
| Publisher: | Rene Natan |
| Publication: | September 26, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
This novel won the silver in the romance category of the 2015 Global Ebook Awards
“Hi, I’m Mary White.”
Carlton tilted his head toward her.
“I’m with that tour group there,” she pointed to the bus, “heading for Bogotá. I traveled with the nuns from the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Coromoto. We were on our way to San Cristóbal.” She stopped, seemingly expecting some attention. When this wasn’t forthcoming, she continued, “The bus broke down three hours ago. There is no sign that we might leave soon. The driver walked back to El Llano, the main highway, to seek help.” She paus¬ed. “I heard you say you’re going across the border. I wonder if…” She stopped and then, “Would you take a passenger? I’d pay, of course.”
Mary moved her luggage very close to the aircraft and waited—her long hair and her blue skirt tugged by the breeze. Underneath her silky blouse she was wearing a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a large cross.
“I don’t give lifts,” Carlton answered dryly. He turned his back.
“That’s too bad. I wouldn’t be any trouble. Three hundred dollars cash.” Her tone was soft yet persuasive.
Carlton didn’t reply. He moved toward the landing gear and checked the wiring.
Mary followed him. “Five hundred. I could be of help.”
“Are you a mechanic?”
“No, I have nursing training—just in case.”
“I’m healthy, thank you.” Carlton skirted her to grab a wrench.
“One thousand dollars. I’d do anything you ask.” Her voice was just a whisper. She was so close to him that her hair, lifted by the wind, grazed his face. Carlton bent to pull on a cord to test its connection. It was then that he saw Mary turning around and lifting her bags. “Wait!” he called.
She instantly dropped her bags, made an about-face, and waited.
“Anything I ask?” Carlton finally showed his face completely and looked her over. “Anything at all? That is a pretty strong statement.”
Mary flickered her eyes between Carlton and the ground.
It would be interesting to find out how far she was ready to go. “Aren’t you concerned about making such an offer? What would you do if I asked for something…” he stopped and looked straight into her eyes, “for something of an intimate nature?”
This time Mary held his gaze. She folded her arms behind her and didn’t utter a word.
Carlton kept watching her as he stored the wrench in the toolbox. Slowly he moved again behind the propeller, waiting for her reaction.
There was none. No offense or anxiety shown and no withdrawal, thought Carlton. Vern Simpson was right; she’s a high stakes player. He was ready to continue the game and prod her further, when a sudden gust sent his voltammeter skidding on the runway.
The woman promptly recovered it and handed it back to him.
He had to leave. The wind was gaining strength by the minute. He quickly put away all his instruments and moved close to her. Seriously, he said, “Five hundred dollars will be enough and it will be all.” He extended his hand. “Stephen William Carlton, Steve for short. I’m a bush pilot.”
“Mary White.” The young woman gave his hand a solid shake. Her lips parted in an open, friendly smile. “I’ll be right back.” She ran to the bus, talked to a couple of the nuns, and returned immediately.
“Get in, Mary—that’s your name? I’d like to leave right away. A storm is approaching from the northeast. I want to stay ahead of it.”
Mary flung the duffle bag deep into the plane and was ready to do the same with the knapsack, when Steve stopped her.
“I’ll take care of that. I don’t want you to destroy my plane. It’s almost a relic ready for a museum. Just get aboard.” He lifted the knapsack high. “That’s heavy!” he exclaimed with surprise. “What do you carry in it?”
Mary sheltered her mouth with her hand and neared Steve’s ear. “Just a few condoms,” she whispered. As she moved away, she added, “brand names only.”
Steve watched her climb the stairway, brisk yet graceful. She may be a murderess, he thought, but she surely has a sense of humor. He was going to enjoy this assignment—if he survived.
This novel won the silver in the romance category of the 2015 Global Ebook Awards
“Hi, I’m Mary White.”
Carlton tilted his head toward her.
“I’m with that tour group there,” she pointed to the bus, “heading for Bogotá. I traveled with the nuns from the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Coromoto. We were on our way to San Cristóbal.” She stopped, seemingly expecting some attention. When this wasn’t forthcoming, she continued, “The bus broke down three hours ago. There is no sign that we might leave soon. The driver walked back to El Llano, the main highway, to seek help.” She paus¬ed. “I heard you say you’re going across the border. I wonder if…” She stopped and then, “Would you take a passenger? I’d pay, of course.”
Mary moved her luggage very close to the aircraft and waited—her long hair and her blue skirt tugged by the breeze. Underneath her silky blouse she was wearing a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a large cross.
“I don’t give lifts,” Carlton answered dryly. He turned his back.
“That’s too bad. I wouldn’t be any trouble. Three hundred dollars cash.” Her tone was soft yet persuasive.
Carlton didn’t reply. He moved toward the landing gear and checked the wiring.
Mary followed him. “Five hundred. I could be of help.”
“Are you a mechanic?”
“No, I have nursing training—just in case.”
“I’m healthy, thank you.” Carlton skirted her to grab a wrench.
“One thousand dollars. I’d do anything you ask.” Her voice was just a whisper. She was so close to him that her hair, lifted by the wind, grazed his face. Carlton bent to pull on a cord to test its connection. It was then that he saw Mary turning around and lifting her bags. “Wait!” he called.
She instantly dropped her bags, made an about-face, and waited.
“Anything I ask?” Carlton finally showed his face completely and looked her over. “Anything at all? That is a pretty strong statement.”
Mary flickered her eyes between Carlton and the ground.
It would be interesting to find out how far she was ready to go. “Aren’t you concerned about making such an offer? What would you do if I asked for something…” he stopped and looked straight into her eyes, “for something of an intimate nature?”
This time Mary held his gaze. She folded her arms behind her and didn’t utter a word.
Carlton kept watching her as he stored the wrench in the toolbox. Slowly he moved again behind the propeller, waiting for her reaction.
There was none. No offense or anxiety shown and no withdrawal, thought Carlton. Vern Simpson was right; she’s a high stakes player. He was ready to continue the game and prod her further, when a sudden gust sent his voltammeter skidding on the runway.
The woman promptly recovered it and handed it back to him.
He had to leave. The wind was gaining strength by the minute. He quickly put away all his instruments and moved close to her. Seriously, he said, “Five hundred dollars will be enough and it will be all.” He extended his hand. “Stephen William Carlton, Steve for short. I’m a bush pilot.”
“Mary White.” The young woman gave his hand a solid shake. Her lips parted in an open, friendly smile. “I’ll be right back.” She ran to the bus, talked to a couple of the nuns, and returned immediately.
“Get in, Mary—that’s your name? I’d like to leave right away. A storm is approaching from the northeast. I want to stay ahead of it.”
Mary flung the duffle bag deep into the plane and was ready to do the same with the knapsack, when Steve stopped her.
“I’ll take care of that. I don’t want you to destroy my plane. It’s almost a relic ready for a museum. Just get aboard.” He lifted the knapsack high. “That’s heavy!” he exclaimed with surprise. “What do you carry in it?”
Mary sheltered her mouth with her hand and neared Steve’s ear. “Just a few condoms,” she whispered. As she moved away, she added, “brand names only.”
Steve watched her climb the stairway, brisk yet graceful. She may be a murderess, he thought, but she surely has a sense of humor. He was going to enjoy this assignment—if he survived.
