'Here we are.' Kip Forsythe tossed her luggage up with no effort, taking extra care with the bag, and then motioned her to the steps, standing back to help. 'We'll get off right away. I'm cleared for take-of within the next few minutes.'
'You? You're flying us to Madembi.'
'I'm thinking about it, Miss West. If you could bring yourself to assist by getting in I'll see if I can manage it.'
'I---I didn't realize . . . You're a pilot?'
'You'd better hope so.' He shot her a look of exasperation mixed with a sudden amusement. 'Look at it like this. You'll be sitting right next to me. If I do anything you don't like, you'll be able to point it out.'
He might think this was a time for caustic humour but Natalie didn't. She climbed on board, everything inside her tightening up more when she saw how small this plane was. A big aircraft was bad enough; this seemed so slight, as if there wasn't much to hold them in the air.
'How long will it take?' The question came out a bit huskily as he got in beside her and strapped himself in securely.
'Not too long. Transportation is waiting at the other end. I'll have you in your hotel before you know it. Relax.'
She nearly burst into tears. Relax! He might be competent and he looked like it like, his every movement sure and efficient, but that didn't help all. Suddenly she knew it would take a good deal of nerve ever to fly again. What would her father make of that? All at once, the vague fears were more than real. The engines roared into life and her headache increased with every rev. Yes. She was ill. What a stupid place to be at the mercy of this tough man. She could manage him better on her own two feet.
It was some consolation to know he wouldn't have to be managed. It was pretty obvious that he was doing a favor for someone, that he had just happened to be here and had been cajoled into picking her up. She would have to be extra polite and very calm, hope to get this over with as quickly as possible.
All the same, as the aircraft took off she closed her eyes tightly, even finding it difficult to open them when she knew perfectly well that they were airborne.
'You're safe. Open your eyes.
The dark amused voice got through to her and she forced herself to sit up straight and look assured. He was watching her intently, seeing the faint film of perspiration on her face.
'You're afraid. Why didn't you tell me? I would have been quite prepared to make the journey back by car. It would have meant an overnight stop by the way but we could have done that with little trouble.
'I'm not afraid, Natalie managed gently. I'm simple tired. I've had a long flight and I can never sleep on a plane.
'You like to keep a lookout in case you have to take the controls? He glanced at her hands tightly clenched, tightly clenched in her lap. 'Tell the truth and shame the devil; you're terrified.'
'Yes.' Natalie looked down at her own clenched fingers and tried to un curl them surreptitiously. It's something that's grown on me. I---I didn't realize until the flight out her just how bad it was getting. I have to fly! It's part of my job.'
'He glanced sharply across her, alerted by the catch in her voice. 'You seem to have two choices,' he said quietly. 'Get some professional help or resign.'
'I have managed to work that out by myself,' Natalie snapped, feeling like a case for a funny farm. 'As to resigning, I doubt if my father would hear of it. We're tightly knit unit, everyone with a specific job. If I waltzed off I'd never hear the end of it at home.'
'Your father?' He looked slightly puzzle and she had to tell him. She could have kicked herself for blurting out the information.
'My father is Jonas West. He owns Westwind productions.'
'Ah!' His dark brows were raised as a comprehension dawned and Natalie stiffened further. As soon as anyone knew her job and her fathers position, she got this 'Daddy's girl' attitude.
'What do you mean---ah? I get no favors, Mr. Forsythe! I worked damned hard so dont go imagining that----'
'You have a very prickly disposition, Miss West,' he informed her astringently. 'If you've got a chip on your shoulder, please don't take it out on me. I'm merely doing a favor, nothing more than a kindly bus driver. Any problems you have can be taken up by your psychiatrist later.'