Blue Skies by Robyn Carr Page B

you might think he was a janitor. Or a mechanic, maybe, from the black engine oil that was always under his nails. He wore jeans and boots, and in cold weather a navy blue quilted vest that had seen better days. His hats—all from aircraft manufacturers—were dirty and had serious sweat rings around the bill. And when he spoke, his words weren’t fancy and his grammar wasn’t always the best, but he was smart as a whip. Buck Burgess was one shrewd businessman.
    And Burgess Aviation was a lot like Buck. It lookeda little rough around the edges, but it was worth a fortune. Buck didn’t talk about the value of his business, and Nikki had never asked. But he had been the sole owner for a long time, and he employed charter pilots, instructors, mechanics, fuellers—everyone necessary to run a small airport. He had even managed to keep those who worked for him employed when the FAA and Homeland Security practically closed down inland air training and charter facilities.
    In the end Buck actually encouraged Nikki to call Riordan; she had to give him a lot of credit for not discouraging the idea. After all, he risked losing close proximity to his only family, his grandchildren. And they were all so dependent on one another, especially now. But he said, “Las Vegas is just up the road and I travel easily. Besides, I’m cutting back on my hours at ops. I’m really not part of this equation.”
    She decided not to talk to the kids about the possibility until she knew what Joe had going on. She might find the whole idea too risky. Besides, she’d never been very excited about Las Vegas and wasn’t too charged up about living there. She was just going to talk to Joe to get this crazy notion out of her mind so she could sleep at night.
    â€œWhat in God’s name are you doing?” she asked him when she finally called.
    He laughed at the sound of her voice, then said, “It’s a little like smoking. Just when I think I’m through, I gotta have another one.”
    â€œI’ve heard the theory that it’s actually a good time to start an airline, but that’s just a theory. Give me one reason, one really solid, understandable reason why an otherwise intelligent man would take on something like this at a time like this?”
    There was a pregnant pause. “Because, Nick, even the threat of terrorism can’t keep this from being a sexy business.”
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    Dixie wouldn’t call Carlisle. She was still angry with him for not calling her, too. There they were, at a standoff, in twin town houses a few steps and a right turn from each other. And Nikki had decided to go to Las Vegas for a day to visit with Joe Riordan and look at his operation, so she was unavailable. Which meant neither of them knew that Dixie had gotten a notice from her supervisor to come in for a meeting on her day off.
    She racked her brain. She hadn’t called in sick, been late or cuffed a passenger. Supervisors didn’t call you in for a chat unless there was trouble, and she couldn’t imagine what she might have done.
    â€œHit him in the gut with a wine bottle?” Sonny asked her a few hours later. The director of Inflight Services was a perfectly nice woman whose job managing hundreds of flight attendants must be gruesome. “Gave him a concussion by slamming the door on his head? That ring any bells? Besides his, that is?”
    This time Dixie had no chance to call on her beauty-queen training. Her face went scarlet. But the flush was as much from the shock of surprise as guilt. That was well over a month ago! She’d flown with Branch since then—and he’d had the gall to actually flirt with her.
    â€œRemember?” Sonny prodded.
    â€œWhy, didn’t he fall down the hotel stairs and crack his noggin?” she asked, feeling the heat burn her face and tingle her scalp. She hoped her hair wasn’t standing straight up.
    â€œHe admits he was in a