I immediately lost that peaceful center. My eyelids flew open; I gripped Royce's forearm, afraid if I didn't, I would fall out the window and spin out of control as I slid down, down, down to the hard surface of the earth.

"Everything's fine," he said. "We hit an air pocket, that's all." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, but ruined the "calming" action by trying to unbuckle my seat belt.

Panicked, I glued my hand over his. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you comfortable."

I slapped at his wrist. "That will never happen if you don't get your hand off my safety harness."

"Safety harness, hmm?" He chuckled. "Naomi, if the plane were to plummet-"

I gasped. He zipped his lips, but it was too late. The damage was done.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God." I couldn't breathe. Wait. Did I smell smoke? Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod. The plane was plummeting and was about to become a fiery ball.

He nuzzled my neck. I didn't relax this time. I couldn't. Everywhere I looked, I saw my own death.

"This worked before," he said.

"Well, it isn't working now."

"There's no reason to worry," he said against my ear. "Nothing bad will happen. I promise."

"How can you promise something like that? Are you psychic?"

"No!"

"Then shut the hell up."

He did. Probably because I wore an I'll-eat-you-alive-expression. Happy meadow, happy meadow. Where was my freaking happy meadow? I'm not going to die, I chanted. I'm not going to die. I had to kill Jonathan first. Surely God would let me live long enough for that.

After a while, I began to calm down again. Tranquil waters, a happy meadow. I was a strong woman and the plane was gliding smoothly through the air.

Royce must have sensed my new state of serenity because he motioned with a tilt of his chin to the window. "Go on," he said. "Take a peek. This will be like therapy for you."

I'd had all the therapy I could take, thank you, but knew he was right. It took five long, agonizing minutes to work up the courage to look down-with my heart pounding sporadically in my chest all the while-but I finally managed to do it. I looked.

A gasp escaped me and I squeezed my eyes shut. Opened them. Cars lolled along city roads, reminding me of ants meandering atop a hill. Buildings appeared like little more than specks on the horizon.

I wondered where we were so I could chart a rescue mission in my mind. I didn't ask, too afraid I'd jinx myself.

"Okay, that's enough," I said, easing back. "I'm cured."

He chuckled. "While we've got this time to ourselves, why don't you tell me what made you decide to open a party-planning business."

I knew he was only trying to distract me, but I was perfectly willing to go along with his plan. "Nothing glamorous," I said. I wiped my sweaty hands on my slacks. "I was never any good at schoolwork. I hated math, hated writing research papers and studying of any kind, but loved all social events. One day I saw an ad in the paper for an assistant planner, and I knew it was the job for me. And since I'd worked at my aunt and uncle's catering business, it was a good fit." I sighed. "I was developing a good name for myself just before I left the business for a few years."

"Why did you leave?"

"I foolishly thought I needed to be available for my husband twenty-four hours a day. Anyway," I said, not wanting to go down that road, "after my divorce, Kera had taken over the catering business and things just worked themselves out."

"I'm very glad that they did."

"What about you?" I asked. "Why fly instruments of death?"

He shrugged. "At first, it wasn't the planes. I was eight, maybe nine, when my father first took me with him to Powell Aeronautics. I watched the employees jump to do his bidding and knew I'd found my calling. I wanted everyone to take my orders."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," I said dryly, though a chuckle underlined my tone.

"After my first time in a cockpit, bossing people around stopped being my first priority."

"Besides flying planes and bossing people around, what is it that you actually do?"

"Mostly I buy and sell airplanes. My company also sells parts, does title searches and generates daily aeronautic reports. That kind of thing."

"I can't imagine having enough money to buy an entire airplane. A seat belt, maybe, but not much else."

"I always make back double my initial investment, so it's no hardship."

Yeah. No hardship. I could hear the buyer/seller interaction now:

Buyer: You only want a million for the plane?

Seller: Yeah. I paid four mil, but I just don't like the thing anymore.

Buyer: (Chuckles) Well, do you take checks?

No hardship. Yeah, you can bite me.

"Are you purchasing a plane anytime soon?" I asked.

"There's a SJ30-2 I've had my eye on. In fact, you can fly to Florida with me at the end of the month and check it out."

"No thanks." I meant it with every fiber of my being.

A slow grin lifted the corners of his lips. "I might just decide to hold the party in Florida. Then you'd have to go."

"That might put you on my Must Kill list."

His grin became wicked. "I'd rather be on your Must Seduce list."

He was. He was the only name on that list, but he was on it. Not that I'd admit it out loud. "This is a milestone for me, you know. I don't even like to stay in a hotel room that has a balcony. I've never understood my fear of falling, but I've learned to live with it. I'm proud of myself right now. This is the first time I've ever done anything so…scary."

"Except for the fact that you've almost squeezed my wrist off every time the plane jostled and left me with a bloody stump, you've done great."

I snorted.

Soon afterward, we arrived at a private airstrip on the outskirts of Eagle Airport. Thankfully, the plane landed with no complications. Had anything gone wrong, I felt certain I would have done serious damage to the inside of my cheek instead of simply biting it raw. I think I'd already lost enough blood to warrant a transfusion.

With stiff limbs, I stepped out of the death trap and onto the ground. Thank you, God! Royce grabbed my bag, threw it over his shoulder. He shuffled me inside a waiting limousine.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He settled in beside me.

"It was quite enjoyable, actually."

A smug gleam lit his features.

"If I were a masochist," I added.

"Ha, ha." Grinning, he shook his head. "We've got a half hour drive ahead of us. The cabin has already been stocked with everything we'll need. All we have to do now is relax."

"Is the cabin isolated?"

"Technically, no. It just seems that way at times. It's about a mile from Mountain Lodge. A resort," he clarified when my expression turned questioning.

"What's the square footage of the cabin?"

"Two thousand."

"Hmm." I pictured his guests squeezed inside that amount of space, one standing on top of the other. "Forget the cabin for a moment and concentrate on the lodge. Does it have any areas designated for large gatherings?"

His eyes narrowed, blocking out the sudden, suspicious darkening, but he answered me anyway. "Yes."

"Well, the lodge sounds better suited for a party than the cabin does. Let's go there."

Now he frowned. "I prefer the cabin."

We were safely on the ground and my thoughts were clear, focused. So I wasn't taking his crap. "Still," I said, "I'd like to view the resort first, if you don't mind."

"I do mind."

"I didn't want to fly here, but I did. The least you can do is stop at the lodge."

"Damn it, Naomi."

Silence.

I wasn't backing down, wasn't going to rescind my request.

"Damn it," he said again. "We'll stop at the lodge." He massaged his neck and gazed up at the car ceiling. "I don't know why the hell I'm putting up with your bossiness. I'm in charge here. You work for me."