Forever and a Day by Ann Gimpel

something other than Lars’ hands and wishing they were moving over her body rather than on the airplane’s controls. “Takeoffs and landings are when the plane is vulnerable, in most danger of crashing.” She took a breath, thinking. “With the small planes, it’s a relief to get enough altitude so there is a cushion, in case I have to plan an emergency landing. I’m thinking it might be similar, but this plane is so heavy, if we lost power, surely we’d die.”
    He shook his head. “As I said earlier, the mechanics are the same. The more distance we are from the ground, the more time I have to come up with Plan B if something goes wrong.” In a move that both shocked and thrilled her, he reached across the cockpit and placed a hand on her thigh. “Tell me about yourself, fraulein . I wish to get to know you.”
    Heat swooshed from her chest to the top of her head. “That doesn’t sound like a flying lesson.”
    He cocked his head to one side. “The only things left to do are,” he held up one finger and tapped her thigh with it, “climb to cruising altitude and,” he held up a second finger, “set a course. They are the same as you already know.” He tightened his fingers across the top of her thigh, stroking her. “I know this airplane. Let me get to know you.”
    Her crotch flooded with moisture; breath clotted in her throat. Tamara struggled to understand how his touch affected her so strongly. She wriggled in her seat and clamped her legs together. “Sure and my life hasn’t been very interesting—” she began.
    He ignored her disclaimer. “Were you born in Dublin?”
    “Yes. Well, not precisely. My family is from Drogheda, maybe fifty kilometers north of Dublin. It’s on the River Boyne just before it runs into the Irish Sea.”
    “ Ja .” His fingers inscribed small circles on top of her leg. “I know it. A port town. I spent time in Northern Ireland. We retreated to Drogheda by boat when things got too dangerous.”
    Tamara twisted in her seat and gazed at him. “You’ve had quite the adventuresome life. Maybe you could be telling me about it, rather than my poor recitation.”
    He punched in some numbers, and then turned and met her gaze. “There. We are at cruise altitude, and I have engaged the autopilot. I wish to get to know who you are, Tamara MacBride. I have had very little practice at this sort of thing, but you sharing what you want to about your life must be a first step. Otherwise, you will remain an enigma to me.”
    “Very little practice, is it? What about your wife?” she blurted.
    He drew back as if she’d shot him. “Wife? What wife?”
    “The one you were unfaithful to back in the airport terminal.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. There. She’d gotten it out in the open. Maybe she hadn’t been particularly elegant about it, but she’d become heartily sick of her cloak-and-dagger existence with Jaret.
    A slow grin started with his mouth and finally reached his eyes. “I understand better now.” He moved his hand from her leg to her crossed arms. “There is no wife. Not even a girlfriend. I have not led the sort of life that lends itself to emotional entanglements.”
    “Really?” Her voice came out as a squeak. She tried for composure, but made a grab for his hand and clung to it. She wanted to jump out of her seat and dance up and down the aisle, but restrained herself.
    “Really.” Something warm and tender shaded his eyes to charcoal. “Now will you tell me about yourself?”
    “Oh. Sure and I’d forgotten that was what began this.”
    His jaw tightened in what might have been resolve. “I did not mean for us to begin by pawing one another in that bathroom.” He shrugged, looking sheepish. “You are a very beautiful woman. It was impossible to restrain myself once I knew you wanted me as desperately as I craved you.” He squeezed her hand. “Who are you, fraulein ? I assumed you were not married because no husband