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“Hart of Alaska Charters, how may I help you?” Wiley Hart asked, speaking into the phone. Listening to the person on the other end requesting flight information and
prices, she glanced at the clock and gave an inward sigh of relief. Just a few more minutes, and she would be able to close up for the day and switch on the answering
machine.
The doorbell jingled as Wiley ran down a list of available times for her flight-seeing tours. She glanced distractedly at the man who stepped through the door, noting the
business suit he wore and the briefcase he carried. Man, she sure hoped it wasn’t the IRS coming to hassle her again. She thought Chelsea had taken care of that mess
months ago.
The person on the phone asked her another question, drawing her attention away from her visitor. A couple minutes later, she finished the call. As she hung up, Wiley
spoke to the man.
“Give me a minute and I’ll be right with you. I just need to get this information into the computer before I forget it.”
“Don’t rush on my account.”
The man’s unexpectedly deep voice sent a shiver down Wiley’s spine. She looked up, but he had turned his back to her to study the display of brochures near the one and
only window overlooking the parking lot. Her gaze skimmed downward from the immaculate cut of his dark brown hair over the tailored gray jacket sitting perfectly on
the broad expanse of shoulders to the long legs encased in matching slacks. The man reeked of money. He was no IRS agent.
Her fears about him being from the IRS were calmed, but her curiosity spiked. Why would anyone of such obvious wealth be here in her office? What could he possibly
want? There was only one way to find out. Wiley quickly finished entering the reservation information into the computer and then turned the answering machine on to
take any further calls.
“Sorry about the wait,” she spoke, drawing the man’s attention. “What can I do for you?”
Wiley’s breath caught in her throat as he turned toward her, revealing a handsome angular face sporting a rich tan. From his polished looks, she had a feeling that his
tan came from a salon and the hard rigid lines of his body were the product of extensive workouts in a gym and not that of hard physical labor performed by a blue-collar
man. No, this man was as white-collared as the shirt he wore beneath that expensive silk jacket.
But it wasn’t the handsome face with its long straight nose or the generous lips that caught Wiley’s attention. It was the silvery gray eyes edged with spiky black lashes
peering at her through wire-rimmed glasses that held her captive in their gaze. Never had she seen such a color in her life. She wondered if it was his true color or the
effect of contact lenses. No, she quickly decidedthey were real. This man didn’t need to draw attention to himself with colored contacts or any other cosmetic trick. Just
his mere presence demanded all the attention he needed.
Realizing she had been staring, Wiley blinked and drew herself upright. She repeated her question.
“How can I help you?”
The man’s lips thinned into what appeared to be an angry grimace. Alarm shot through her. Was he upset with her?
“I need to charter a plane,” he spoke again in that low, smooth voice of his.
Wiley studied him curiously, her apprehension fading. “Okay, but I’ll need some information first. When were you wanting to charter it; how many people are going;
and for how long?”
“Tomorrow, one, and two days.”
“Two days! I don’t think you understand, Mr., uh…”
“Sweeney.”
“Mr. Sweeney, this is a flight-seeing company. We don’t usually charter our planes out for more than three hours at a time, much less for two days.”
“Your company will be well paid, I assure you.”
“You don’t understand. We have tours already booked for the next two days. It’s just not possible.” Unless she called Pete in on his days off to do the tours for her. But
she didn’t feel right about doing that to her relief pilot. He had been filling in for her quite a bit lately and needed a break.
Sweeney’s eyes narrowed behind the wire-rimmed glasses. Apparently, he wasn’t used to taking no for an answer and proved it with his next words.
“I need a pilot to take me out to the Grubstake Mine northwest of Fairbanks. I was told that Wiley Hart is the best bush pilot in Alaska, and that’s who I want. If it’s a
matter of money, I will pay three times the amount this company would make on tours over the next two days.”
Wiley’s mouth dropped open in shock. She couldn’t believe this man was that desperate for her services.
“Do you realize…” Wiley’s voice squeaked. She stopped, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Do you realize how much money that is, Mr. Sweeney?”
He gave her a bored look. “With an operation this size, I would guess that you will be making around four thousand dollars over the next two days. Times three, and
that would be around twelve thousand dollars. You still want to turn down that much money?”
Was he crazy? Of course she didn’t want to turn down that kind of money! It would almost be enough for a down payment on that new plane she had her eye on, one
that would carry more passengers and ultimately bring in more money.
When Wiley hesitated too long, the man sighed impatiently. “Okay, twenty thousand dollars, but that’s my final offer.”
Wiley’s eyes rounded. That would be more than enough for a down payment. Her cousin Chelsea would be thrilled, but…
“I, uh, I need to talk it over with my crew and see if it can be arranged. Excuse me!”
Wiley all but ran for the heavy metal door connected to the hangar. She slipped through and closed it behind her. Leaning against the door, she tried to calm her jittery
nerves.
Twenty thousand dollars! Wiley already knew she would take the man up on his offer. She’d be a fool not to. Of course, she would have to give Pete a call and see if he
could come in and cover her flights for her over the next couple days, but she already knew he would. When he heard about the money and the new plane it would buy, he’
d be more than happy to fill in for her.
As for Chelsea, she would be ecstatic. She had been after Wiley to buy another plane and hire a third pilot. They both knew it was vital to expand the business, but there
had never been quite enough money for a down payment until now.
Wiley closed her eyes, sending up a quick prayer of thanks for this unexpected blessing. Thank you, Lord. This is the perfect answer to my prayers.
And it wouldn’t hurt her feelings at all to spend a few hours in the air with the handsome businessman waiting for her answer.
Wiley straightened and ran her fingers through her short brown hair. Taking a deep breath and composing her face, she opened the door and stepped back through.
Mr. Sweeney stood staring out the grimy window, his hand in his pocket rattling a set of keys.
“Mr. Sweeney?” Wiley stepped behind the counter.
He turned and looked at her expectantly. Wiley’s knees momentarily turned to jello. Get a grip! she scolded herself. He’s just a man. A handsome man with lots of
money, she quickly amended.
“Well?” he prompted.
“It’s a go, but you’ll have to have the money here in cash before the flight.”
“You don’t take credit cards?” Not waiting for an answer, he pulled a leather wallet out of his pocket and thumbed it open.
“For twenty thousand dollars?”
He tossed a platinum credit card onto the counter in front of her. Wiley raised a skeptical eyebrow. There was no possible way his credit card company would approve
such a substantial charge.
With one long elegant finger, he pushed the card across the worn countertop. Grudgingly, she picked it up and ran her gaze over it. Her heart skipped a beat as she read
V.P. next to Dexter Sweeney’s name. Even she was educated enough to realize that those initials stood for Vice President. But the name of the multi-million dollar, no,
make that multi-billion-dollar company just below his name was enough to send her skipping heart into a frantic run.
She cleared her throat and tried to control the shake in her hands. “Well, Mr. Sweeney, I suppose a credit card would be acceptable.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said, looking pointedly at the Rolex on his nicely tanned wrist. Clearly, he had other places to be. She could take a hint.
“Just give me a minute, and we’ll have you on your way.”
Okay, so he worked for one of the largest companies on the West Coast, but she wasn’t about to take his word that he could charge twenty thousand dollars on a credit
card. She hadn’t been born yesterday. This character may look like a million bucks, but for all she knew he may be a criminal trying to lose himself in the great Alaskan
wilderness.
It only took a few minutes for the transaction to take place, and then Wiley watched him sign the credit card receipt. She glanced at the name he had signed to make
sure the signature matched the one on the card. Dexter Sweeney. But that wasn’t quite good enough.
“I need to see another form of ID. A driver’s license if you have it on you,” she said, glancing up in time to catch the tightening of his lips at her request. Was it
impatience or something else?
He handed her the license. Wiley carefully looked over it. It just wasn’t fair. Even the man’s driver’s license picture was impeccably perfect. Holding back a heavy sigh,
she quickly scanned his signature, saw that it matched the others, and then handed the license to him.
“Thank you, Mr. Sweeney,” she said as she gave him the receipt, knowing he would probably have a lot of explaining to do for a twenty thousand dollar flight. Or not,
considering his position. Either way it was his problem, not hers.
“I’ll be here at eight,” he told her. “Does the pilot know how to get to the Grubstake mine?”
Comprehension hit her like the force of a baseball between the eyes. Mr. Dexter Sweeney had no idea that he was talking to the pilot. Wiley broke out in a cold sweat
and for a brief moment thought she would throw up.
Was Dexter Sweeney going to be another of those male chauvinists who didn’t think women could, or should, fly planes? Or was he modern enough to put his trust in
her abilities? He had said that Wiley Hart had been recommended to him as the best pilot in the state. Surely that would matter more to him than her gender.
“Maybe I should talk to him myself,” Dexter said when she didn’t answer right away.
“Uh, no! That won’t be necessary.” She tried not to panic when he took a step toward the door leading to the hangar. “The pilot knows where the mine is located.”
He turned and gave her a doubtful look. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I…uh…yes.”
Oh, Lord, please don’t let him back out of the deal when he discovers the truth. Wiley knew she ought to tell him now, but she was afraid he would renege on their deal
and she would have to give back his money. Although, she still might have to in the morning.
“Is there anything else you need from me?” Dexter asked as he reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a set of keys.
Wiley glanced down at his immaculate suit, knowing it had to have cost him a bundle. She nodded her head at him, indicating his clothes, “You might want to dress
down a little.”
He looked down at his attire with a frown and then back up, pushing his glasses up his nose with his thumb.
“Don’t worry…” His gaze swept down to her left hand, checking her marital status. “Miss…”
“Hart,” Wiley supplied without thinking.
Dexter’s eyebrows rose. “Miss Hart, I’ll be sure to dress more appropriately for the trip.”
He looked at her more closely. “I didn’t realize you’re one of the owners of this business.”
A surge of guilt threatened to loosen her tongue and make her tell the truth. She forced a smile instead.
“Yes, I am, Mr. Sweeney.”
When she didn’t elaborate, Dexter cleared his throat and stepped back.
“Well then, good evening, Miss Hart.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she replied, and then mentally slapped herself for the slip.
“You’ll be here tomorrow?”
Wiley quickly recovered with a smile. “Yes, of course, to open up the shop.” And fly you to the mine.
She came around the counter and followed him to the door.
“Goodnight, Mr. Sweeney.”
As soon as he stepped outside, Wiley locked the door behind him and turned the open sign to indicate that the shop was closed. From the front window, she watched
him drive away and then went over to the phone and dialed a well-memorized number.
“Chelsea? You’re not going to believe this…”
prices, she glanced at the clock and gave an inward sigh of relief. Just a few more minutes, and she would be able to close up for the day and switch on the answering
machine.
The doorbell jingled as Wiley ran down a list of available times for her flight-seeing tours. She glanced distractedly at the man who stepped through the door, noting the
business suit he wore and the briefcase he carried. Man, she sure hoped it wasn’t the IRS coming to hassle her again. She thought Chelsea had taken care of that mess
months ago.
The person on the phone asked her another question, drawing her attention away from her visitor. A couple minutes later, she finished the call. As she hung up, Wiley
spoke to the man.
“Give me a minute and I’ll be right with you. I just need to get this information into the computer before I forget it.”
“Don’t rush on my account.”
The man’s unexpectedly deep voice sent a shiver down Wiley’s spine. She looked up, but he had turned his back to her to study the display of brochures near the one and
only window overlooking the parking lot. Her gaze skimmed downward from the immaculate cut of his dark brown hair over the tailored gray jacket sitting perfectly on
the broad expanse of shoulders to the long legs encased in matching slacks. The man reeked of money. He was no IRS agent.
Her fears about him being from the IRS were calmed, but her curiosity spiked. Why would anyone of such obvious wealth be here in her office? What could he possibly
want? There was only one way to find out. Wiley quickly finished entering the reservation information into the computer and then turned the answering machine on to
take any further calls.
“Sorry about the wait,” she spoke, drawing the man’s attention. “What can I do for you?”
Wiley’s breath caught in her throat as he turned toward her, revealing a handsome angular face sporting a rich tan. From his polished looks, she had a feeling that his
tan came from a salon and the hard rigid lines of his body were the product of extensive workouts in a gym and not that of hard physical labor performed by a blue-collar
man. No, this man was as white-collared as the shirt he wore beneath that expensive silk jacket.
But it wasn’t the handsome face with its long straight nose or the generous lips that caught Wiley’s attention. It was the silvery gray eyes edged with spiky black lashes
peering at her through wire-rimmed glasses that held her captive in their gaze. Never had she seen such a color in her life. She wondered if it was his true color or the
effect of contact lenses. No, she quickly decidedthey were real. This man didn’t need to draw attention to himself with colored contacts or any other cosmetic trick. Just
his mere presence demanded all the attention he needed.
Realizing she had been staring, Wiley blinked and drew herself upright. She repeated her question.
“How can I help you?”
The man’s lips thinned into what appeared to be an angry grimace. Alarm shot through her. Was he upset with her?
“I need to charter a plane,” he spoke again in that low, smooth voice of his.
Wiley studied him curiously, her apprehension fading. “Okay, but I’ll need some information first. When were you wanting to charter it; how many people are going;
and for how long?”
“Tomorrow, one, and two days.”
“Two days! I don’t think you understand, Mr., uh…”
“Sweeney.”
“Mr. Sweeney, this is a flight-seeing company. We don’t usually charter our planes out for more than three hours at a time, much less for two days.”
“Your company will be well paid, I assure you.”
“You don’t understand. We have tours already booked for the next two days. It’s just not possible.” Unless she called Pete in on his days off to do the tours for her. But
she didn’t feel right about doing that to her relief pilot. He had been filling in for her quite a bit lately and needed a break.
Sweeney’s eyes narrowed behind the wire-rimmed glasses. Apparently, he wasn’t used to taking no for an answer and proved it with his next words.
“I need a pilot to take me out to the Grubstake Mine northwest of Fairbanks. I was told that Wiley Hart is the best bush pilot in Alaska, and that’s who I want. If it’s a
matter of money, I will pay three times the amount this company would make on tours over the next two days.”
Wiley’s mouth dropped open in shock. She couldn’t believe this man was that desperate for her services.
“Do you realize…” Wiley’s voice squeaked. She stopped, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Do you realize how much money that is, Mr. Sweeney?”
He gave her a bored look. “With an operation this size, I would guess that you will be making around four thousand dollars over the next two days. Times three, and
that would be around twelve thousand dollars. You still want to turn down that much money?”
Was he crazy? Of course she didn’t want to turn down that kind of money! It would almost be enough for a down payment on that new plane she had her eye on, one
that would carry more passengers and ultimately bring in more money.
When Wiley hesitated too long, the man sighed impatiently. “Okay, twenty thousand dollars, but that’s my final offer.”
Wiley’s eyes rounded. That would be more than enough for a down payment. Her cousin Chelsea would be thrilled, but…
“I, uh, I need to talk it over with my crew and see if it can be arranged. Excuse me!”
Wiley all but ran for the heavy metal door connected to the hangar. She slipped through and closed it behind her. Leaning against the door, she tried to calm her jittery
nerves.
Twenty thousand dollars! Wiley already knew she would take the man up on his offer. She’d be a fool not to. Of course, she would have to give Pete a call and see if he
could come in and cover her flights for her over the next couple days, but she already knew he would. When he heard about the money and the new plane it would buy, he’
d be more than happy to fill in for her.
As for Chelsea, she would be ecstatic. She had been after Wiley to buy another plane and hire a third pilot. They both knew it was vital to expand the business, but there
had never been quite enough money for a down payment until now.
Wiley closed her eyes, sending up a quick prayer of thanks for this unexpected blessing. Thank you, Lord. This is the perfect answer to my prayers.
And it wouldn’t hurt her feelings at all to spend a few hours in the air with the handsome businessman waiting for her answer.
Wiley straightened and ran her fingers through her short brown hair. Taking a deep breath and composing her face, she opened the door and stepped back through.
Mr. Sweeney stood staring out the grimy window, his hand in his pocket rattling a set of keys.
“Mr. Sweeney?” Wiley stepped behind the counter.
He turned and looked at her expectantly. Wiley’s knees momentarily turned to jello. Get a grip! she scolded herself. He’s just a man. A handsome man with lots of
money, she quickly amended.
“Well?” he prompted.
“It’s a go, but you’ll have to have the money here in cash before the flight.”
“You don’t take credit cards?” Not waiting for an answer, he pulled a leather wallet out of his pocket and thumbed it open.
“For twenty thousand dollars?”
He tossed a platinum credit card onto the counter in front of her. Wiley raised a skeptical eyebrow. There was no possible way his credit card company would approve
such a substantial charge.
With one long elegant finger, he pushed the card across the worn countertop. Grudgingly, she picked it up and ran her gaze over it. Her heart skipped a beat as she read
V.P. next to Dexter Sweeney’s name. Even she was educated enough to realize that those initials stood for Vice President. But the name of the multi-million dollar, no,
make that multi-billion-dollar company just below his name was enough to send her skipping heart into a frantic run.
She cleared her throat and tried to control the shake in her hands. “Well, Mr. Sweeney, I suppose a credit card would be acceptable.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said, looking pointedly at the Rolex on his nicely tanned wrist. Clearly, he had other places to be. She could take a hint.
“Just give me a minute, and we’ll have you on your way.”
Okay, so he worked for one of the largest companies on the West Coast, but she wasn’t about to take his word that he could charge twenty thousand dollars on a credit
card. She hadn’t been born yesterday. This character may look like a million bucks, but for all she knew he may be a criminal trying to lose himself in the great Alaskan
wilderness.
It only took a few minutes for the transaction to take place, and then Wiley watched him sign the credit card receipt. She glanced at the name he had signed to make
sure the signature matched the one on the card. Dexter Sweeney. But that wasn’t quite good enough.
“I need to see another form of ID. A driver’s license if you have it on you,” she said, glancing up in time to catch the tightening of his lips at her request. Was it
impatience or something else?
He handed her the license. Wiley carefully looked over it. It just wasn’t fair. Even the man’s driver’s license picture was impeccably perfect. Holding back a heavy sigh,
she quickly scanned his signature, saw that it matched the others, and then handed the license to him.
“Thank you, Mr. Sweeney,” she said as she gave him the receipt, knowing he would probably have a lot of explaining to do for a twenty thousand dollar flight. Or not,
considering his position. Either way it was his problem, not hers.
“I’ll be here at eight,” he told her. “Does the pilot know how to get to the Grubstake mine?”
Comprehension hit her like the force of a baseball between the eyes. Mr. Dexter Sweeney had no idea that he was talking to the pilot. Wiley broke out in a cold sweat
and for a brief moment thought she would throw up.
Was Dexter Sweeney going to be another of those male chauvinists who didn’t think women could, or should, fly planes? Or was he modern enough to put his trust in
her abilities? He had said that Wiley Hart had been recommended to him as the best pilot in the state. Surely that would matter more to him than her gender.
“Maybe I should talk to him myself,” Dexter said when she didn’t answer right away.
“Uh, no! That won’t be necessary.” She tried not to panic when he took a step toward the door leading to the hangar. “The pilot knows where the mine is located.”
He turned and gave her a doubtful look. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I…uh…yes.”
Oh, Lord, please don’t let him back out of the deal when he discovers the truth. Wiley knew she ought to tell him now, but she was afraid he would renege on their deal
and she would have to give back his money. Although, she still might have to in the morning.
“Is there anything else you need from me?” Dexter asked as he reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a set of keys.
Wiley glanced down at his immaculate suit, knowing it had to have cost him a bundle. She nodded her head at him, indicating his clothes, “You might want to dress
down a little.”
He looked down at his attire with a frown and then back up, pushing his glasses up his nose with his thumb.
“Don’t worry…” His gaze swept down to her left hand, checking her marital status. “Miss…”
“Hart,” Wiley supplied without thinking.
Dexter’s eyebrows rose. “Miss Hart, I’ll be sure to dress more appropriately for the trip.”
He looked at her more closely. “I didn’t realize you’re one of the owners of this business.”
A surge of guilt threatened to loosen her tongue and make her tell the truth. She forced a smile instead.
“Yes, I am, Mr. Sweeney.”
When she didn’t elaborate, Dexter cleared his throat and stepped back.
“Well then, good evening, Miss Hart.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she replied, and then mentally slapped herself for the slip.
“You’ll be here tomorrow?”
Wiley quickly recovered with a smile. “Yes, of course, to open up the shop.” And fly you to the mine.
She came around the counter and followed him to the door.
“Goodnight, Mr. Sweeney.”
As soon as he stepped outside, Wiley locked the door behind him and turned the open sign to indicate that the shop was closed. From the front window, she watched
him drive away and then went over to the phone and dialed a well-memorized number.
“Chelsea? You’re not going to believe this…”
| Chapter One |
On the Wings of Love
| Excerpt |