“Are you okay?” I ask, releasing him and touching his chest, his arms, his waist—oh, the feel of this warm, vital, sensual man beneath my fingers—reassures me that he’s here, standing in front of me. He’s back. He doesn’t so much as flinch. He just regards me intently.
“I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh, thank God,” I clasp him round his waist again, and he hugs me once more. “Are you hungry? Do you need something to drink?”
“Yes.”
I step back to fetch him something, but he doesn’t let me go. He tucks me under his arm and extends a hand to José.
“Mr. Grey,” says José evenly.
Christian snorts. “Christian, please,” he says.
“Christian, welcome back. Glad you’re okay . . . and um—thanks for letting me stay.”
“No problem.” Christian narrows his eyes, but he’s distracted by Mrs. Jones, who is suddenly at his side. It only occurs to me now that she’s not her usual smart self. I hadn’t noticed it before. Her hair is loose, and she’s in soft gray leggings and a large gray sweat-shirt that dwarfs her with WSU Cougars emblazoned on the front. She looks years younger.
“Can I get you something, Mr. Grey?” She wipes her eyes with a tissue.
Christian smiles fondly at her. “A beer, please, Gail—Budvar—and a bite to eat.”
“I’ll fetch it,” I murmur, wanting to do something for my man.
“No. Don’t go,” he says softly, tightening his arm around me.
The rest of his family close in, and Ethan and Kate join us. He shakes Ethan’s hand and gives Kate a quick peck on the cheek. Mrs. Jones returns with a bottle of beer and a glass.
He takes the bottle but shakes his head at the glass. She smiles and returns to the kitchen.
“Surprised you don’t want something stronger,” mutters Elliot. “So what the fuck happened to you? First I knew was when Dad called me to say the chopper was missing.”
“Elliot!” Grace scolds.
“Helicopter,” Christian growls, correcting Elliot, who grins, and I suspect this is a family joke.
“Let’s sit and I’ll tell you.” Christian pulls me over to the couch, and everyone sits down, all eyes on Christian. He takes a long draft of his beer. He spies Taylor hovering at the entrance and nods. Taylor nods back.
“Your daughter?”
“She’s fine now. False alarm, sir.”
“Good.” Christian smiles.
Daughter? What happened to Taylor’s daughter?
“Glad you’re back, sir. Will that be all?”
“We have a helicopter to collect.”
Taylor nods. “Now? Or will the morning do?”
“Morning, I think, Taylor.”
“Very good, Mr. Grey. Anything else, sir?”
Christian shakes his head and raises his bottle to him. Taylor gives him a rare smile—
rarer than Christian’s, I think—and heads out presumably to his office or up to his room.
“Christian, what happened?” Carrick demands.
Christian launches into his story. He was flying with Ros, his number two in Charlie Tango to deal with a funding issue at WSU in Vancouver. I can barely keep up I’m so dazed. I just hold Christian’s hand and stare at his manicured fingernails, his long fingers, the creases on his knuckles, his wristwatch—an Omega with three small dials. I gaze up at his beautiful profile as he continues his tale.
“Ros had never seen Mount St. Helens, so on the way back as a celebration, we took a quick detour. I heard the TFR was lifted a while back and I wanted to take a look. Well, it’s fortunate that we did. We were flying low, about two hundred feet AGL, when the instrument panel lit up. We had a fire in the tail—I had no choice but to cut all the electronics and land.” He shakes his head. “I set her down by Silver Lake, got Ros out, and managed to put the fire out.”
“A fire? Both engines?” Carrick is horrified.
“Yep.”
“Shit! But I thought.”
“I know,” Christian interrupts him. “It was sheer luck I was flying so low,” he murmurs. I shudder. He releases my hand and puts his arm around me.
“Cold?” he asks me. I shake my head.
“How did you put out the fire?” asks Kate, her Carla Bernstein instincts kicking in.
Jeez, she sounds terse sometimes.
“Extinguisher. We have to carry them—by law.” Christian answers levelly.
His words from long ago circle my mind.
“Why didn’t you call or use the radio?” Grace asks.
Christian shakes his head. “With the electronics out, we had no radio. And I wasn’t going to risk turning them on because of the fire. GPS was still working on the Blackberry, so I was able to navigate to the nearest road. Took us four hours to walk there. Ros was in heels.” Christian’s mouth presses into a disapproving flat line.
“We had no cell reception. There’s no coverage at Gifford. Ros’s battery died first.
Mine dried up on the way.”
“So how did you get back to Seattle?” Grace asks, blinking slightly at the sight of the two of us, no doubt. I flush.
