Connie rubbed her forehead. “Do I even want to know what you were doing on the roof?”
His devil-may-care smile faltered. “Probably, but that's one of those things I'm not allowed to talk about. Sorry.”
Oh. One of those things.
She'd frequently run into those things with Chase, during the brief summer they'd spent together three years ago. There had been certain topics that made him go uncharacteristically silent if they came up in conversation. Some of them were silly, innocuous things, like his favorite type of animal or why his whole family seemed to treat his desire to fly airplanes as somehow perverse.
But there were more significant things he wouldn't discuss either. Things like why a rich playboy who wa
s notorious for countless flings with supermodels would abruptly become obsessed with the plain, dumpy daughter of his flight instructor. Things like why he’d pursued her so relentlessly, despite her initial refusals. Things like why someone like Chase would want someone like her.
Compared to that, his habit of turning up on rooftops seemed positively normal.
Connie knew from experience that questioning him further would only result in him doing something astonishingly random, and usually quite dangerous, in order to force a change of subject. “If I don't let you in, you're going to hang there all night, aren't you.”
Chase's trademark grin reappeared. “How well you know me, my love.”
“I'm not your love.” Nonetheless, she stood back from the window, gesturing him in.
Chase flipped himself neatly through the window, landing on his feet. Connie's heart, which was still hammering after the shock of his abrupt appearance, gave an odd little skip. He'd changed out of his firefighter uniform into black jeans and a slim-cut button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off his tanned forearms. The neck of the shirt hung open a little, displaying the strong lines of his throat and a hint of muscled chest.
Remember. Remember all the things he is. Womanizing, dishonest, fickle, flighty, unreliable…
Unfortunately, there was one other thing that he undeniably was:
Gorgeous.
Connie folded her arms, trying to conceal the traitorous rise of her hormones by giving Chase a withering glare. “Why are you here, Chase?”
“I told you.” Chase plopped himself down her bed, lounging back against the headboard and looking infuriatingly at home. “I'm going to fly your plane.”
Connie stared at him. “No, you most definitely are not.”
Chase spread his hands, palm up. “Well, if you want I could co-pilot while you fly it, but to be honest I think we've got better chances the other way round. You're a much better navigator than I am, after all. I haven't had a lot of experience in doing that sort of thing. And I bet you've been studying the race course for at least a month already—”
“Chase,” Connie cut across the babble. “Start at the beginning. What on earth are you talking about?”
“I talked to Sammy. He wouldn't drop the bet entirely, but I made him stick to the literal words of the agreement he made with your dad.” Chase's white teeth flashed in his feral smile. “The bet's on the plane, not specifically on your dad flying it, you see. So now everything will be fine. We just have to win the Rydon Cup together, flying your plane.”
Shoving Chase's feet out of the way, Connie sat down heavily on the end of the bed. “We just have to win the Rydon Cup. Right. One question. Are you completely insane?”
“What?” Chase looked wounded. “You know how I fly.”
“Like God Himself gave you the wings of an eagle,” Connie said through gritted teeth. “And the brains of a hummingbird.”
“That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me,” Chase said, grinning. “Well? Come on, Connie. You and me. We can do it. Together.”
Connie pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking it over. Much as every fiber of her being screamed NOOOOOO! at the thought of Chase even sitting in her mother's plane, let alone flinging it across the sky, she had to admit that he was a ridiculously fast pilot. Not a good one—he was far too cavalier about little things like 'air traffic control' and 'the ground' for that—but she'd be sitting right behind him in the co-pilot's cockpit. She'd be able to take over control if he got too reckless.
Maybe they really could do this together.
“All right,” she said reluctantly. “It's a terrible, crazy, ridiculous idea. But I don't have a better one. Are you up to date with your license? How often do you fly?”
Chase's mouth quirked. “You'd be surprised. But the type of piloting you mean… pretty frequently. I fly the service helicopter when we need air support putting out fires. And I've got a plane of my own that I try to take up on a regular basis. Every week or so, usually.”
Connie eyed him suspiciously, but couldn't tell if he was lying. “I'm surprised you find time, what with the firefighting as well.”
Chase's eyes darkened, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious. “Whenever I flew, it made me feel closer to you. Knowing that you were up in the same sky, even if I didn't know where.”