Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll (SEALS, Inc., Book 1)

Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rachel took a long look around the jet's interior and swallowed hard before she forced her brain to process what she'd agreed to. Her spontaneity was now officially out of control. She moved her gaze to rest on several swiveling chairs in the center bolted to the plane's belly and decided the one in the middle would be the better choice. If the plane were to crash, being sandwiched between Hawke and Max just might cushion the blow. And really, what a way to go.

Rachel forced thoughts of tangled metal out of her brain while she melted into the buttery leather seat, snapped the silver seatbelt across her lap, and silently said a prayer. While she made several, mental, life-altering promises, Hawke and Max settled into the neighboring seats.

She caught Hawke's frown out of the corner of her eye. "Are you nervous?"

Rachel bit her lip. Terrified. "Not really. Airplanes have the lowest death rate per one hundred million miles of travel."

Hawke glanced at Max. "Did you know that?"

Max nodded. "I also know that if this plane does crash, we don't have anything to worry about until we get ready to land." He grinned at Rachel. "Forty five percent of crashes happen on landing."

Rachel couldn't stop the smile that split her lips. The delectable Max was a closet-case nerd.

Hawke shifted in his seat. "I vote we talk about something other than plane crashes."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything,"Rachel mumbled.

"Don't be." Hawke dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "I spend a lot of time in the air."

Max pushed himself out of his chair. "No need to mention what you do up here."

Hawke's eyes widened and Rachel stifled a giggle. The warm feeling of camaraderie between the two men took the place of fright for a few brief seconds. And then the plane's engine roared to life. Rachel grasped the armrest until her knuckles turned white.

Max nodded toward the nose of the plane. "I'll be up front."

Hawke turned in his seat to face her. "Rachel, have you flown before?"

She gave him a weak smile, one she hoped would disguise her terror. "Once or twice," she managed to say. "I don't get out much."

"How about a drink?"

She gave him her best yeah, right look. Didn't he remember how well she held her liquor?  "No, thank you. I'll be fine, really. I brought a magazine to distract me."

Rachel leaned forward to pull her Architectural Digest out of her bag just as the plane lurched. The breath left her lungs in a whoosh as the seatbelt gave her stomach a nice sucker punch.

"On second thought," she said as she braced herself back against the seat and squeezed her eyes closed, "I'll just sit here and enjoy the ride."

"Rachel."

She groaned and rolled her head toward the sound of Hawke's husky voice.  She forced her eyes open. "I'm being ridiculous."

Heat warmed her as he placed her hand in his and braided their fingers. "I promise, we'll be fine."

She gave his hand a slight squeeze to convince him she wasn't afraid. "Of course we will. Mechanical failure accounts for most air accidents and I'm sure you checked out the plane, right?"

"Um, no."

Rachel's eyes rounded until her vision blurred. The man obviously spent thousands of dollars on an eye-catching machine and didn't check the mechanical systems? Her mouth fell open to speak but nothing came out.