Perfect Mistake - Chapter #3 - Free To Read

Chapter Three

Carlo watched Simone as she hastened up to the glass door of the Carlevaro Air Departure Lounge. With her sun-streaked hair tied in a ponytail, her white shirt tucked into her cargo pants, and the wide brown belt circling her narrow waist, she looked just like she had four years ago. But something stirred in him as the company logo on her shirt’s front pocket drew his eyes to her full breasts. She was still long-limbed but somehow she was more woman, as if her curves had come of age.

Who had brought the change on her? It was more than physical. It was in the way she carried herself—somehow taller, prouder; she no longer slumped to hide her height. Something contracted in him. Had she been with someone else the past four years? She’d moved on swiftly after their intense relationship, something that he’d never thought possible. The heartache of losing her had burnt like hell, but he’d only noticed it much later because at the time he’d already been burnt to the bone.

She’s no longer yours. He had to shrug off the memories, but for six weeks she’d been his. He’d known every inch of her. It felt like decades ago and not a mere four years that had flown past in a mad rush.

He walked up to her to meet her away from the rest of the group. She wore the tourist smile, the one all staff had ready for guests at a moment’s notice, and her face was flushed. His arrival had been a shock, and from the glance she shot at him, it had been an unpleasant one. At least he’d had half a day to get used to the idea that he would see her again. He’d been able to school his thoughts, although it had taken him most of a sleepless night. For once he’d been tossing and turning over something other than the business. When he’d met her the first time she was on her first expatriate job away from home. That stint hadn’t lasted very long, but he hadn’t known she’d returned to Tanzania to fly again for his uncle’s airline. To find her on the list of pilots employed by Carlevaro Air the day before was the last thing he’d expected.

She didn’t even look in his direction, but continued her decisive stride through the lounge to the exit that led to the tarmac and runway.

“Are you up to it?” Carlo asked as he blocked her way.

Her gaze shot up to his, and her eyes widened. “Up to what?”

“Flying.”

She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look tired.”

She glanced away with pursed lips. “I did spend the night in an economy class seat on an eleven-hour flight.”

He regretted putting her in this position. Any Carlevaro pilot could fly with him, but this trip was about more than flying and he needed someone he could trust. Looking at the bigger picture, he’d had no other option but allocating Simone to their three-week schedule. He hoped it would take much less time than that. He was fighting against the clock. It had always been ticking in the background, but now it was as if gunshots announced the hours, going off in his ears. “A day off after an international flight is standard, but we don’t have time.”

She sighed, lifting her hands up. “Look, Ca…Mr. Carlevaro. I’m six hours into my eight-hour duty day, taking into account the long-haul flight. It’s not as if I piloted the Airbus from London.” The glare she shot at him told him he should know better than to doubt her professionalism. “It’s my job. I’m trained. I won’t notice forty-five minutes.”

She walked toward the stairs leading to the exit, but he had to stop her. He needed to bridge this gap. Her coldness was unjustified and so unlike the Simone he’d known four years ago. Maybe her reaction was not entirely unexpected, given the fact that he’d descended on her from nowhere. He clasped a hand around her wrist. It was a mistake to touch her, but he could not help himself. Her wrist was slender and warm, and her pulse raced underneath the delicate skin. The urge to pull her to his chest and trap her willful mouth under his heaved up and he had to check himself. He let go of her as she jerked away with an angry murmur. Her eyes shot daggers at him and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I want to introduce you to some of our group.”

She stopped midstride. “Whatever for? I’m only the pilot.” She checked her watch. “You wanted to leave as soon as possible. I still need to do the pre-flight inspections.”

Carlo sighed. There was a wall, thick and high, and he had laid many of the bricks. “Just my brother. He’s taking over from Peppe.”

Her gaze darted over the group, and when she glanced back at him, there was ill-disguised interest in her eyes.

He turned to call Angelo, whom he sensed had observed their interchange. “My younger brother, Angelo Carlevaro,” he introduced them as Angelo stepped forward.

Inside him, a slow heat rose as Angelo shook Simone’s hand with his eyes on her beautiful face. A stab of possessiveness made him put his hand on Angelo’s shoulder, gripping in silent warning. Angelo let go of Simone’s hand. His brother was a playboy and although not into blondes, Carlo wouldn’t let Angelo within ten meters of Simone if he could help it.

“I hope you’ll find a warm welcome, Mr. Carlevaro.” Simone shifted on her feet, but she didn’t drop her gaze as she darted it to him and then back to Angelo. She was measuring them up, comparing.

“Hot as hell, actually,” Angelo laughed, shooting him a quizzical glance.

Simone smiled. It was the first natural smile he’d seen from her and she’d saved it for Angelo. He would have laughed too if the sensation in his gut didn’t feel like jealousy warmed up.

“You’ll get used to it,” Simone said then turned to him. “If you are to co-pilot our flight, Mr. C.F.L. Carlevaro, you can make yourself useful and get the pre-departure documentation in order.” She nodded at Angelo. “Excuse me.”

She was out of the door and down the stairs before he could reply.

“Feisty.” Angelo scratched at his stubble. “What was all that about?”

Carlo couldn’t help grinning. He had no idea where the new Simone came from, but he loved this new spark in her. “She’s captaining the flight. I suppose she needs to make sure I follow the co-pilot rules.”

“Rules are there to be broken,” Angelo mused.

Carlo watched Simone as she strode over the tarmac to the parked DHC-6 Twin Otter. Her hips still had that seductive sway to them. A twinge of lust stirred in his groin. It was a reaction he had been trying to suppress ever since he’d seen her in the pilot’s lounge, defying O’Connor. He hadn’t heard what O’Connor had said but Simone had put him in his place.

When he looked at Angelo again, his brother’s gaze was still glued to Simone. He shook his head. “Stay away from the staff, Angelo. With everything else, we can’t afford a sexual harassment suit.”

“Who says it’s going to be harassment?” Angelo smiled at him.

Carlo’s fingers itched to curl into fists. Handsome as hell, Angelo hardly ever spent a night alone but never kept a woman for longer than a month. Being away from his grazing grounds was going to be a challenge for his younger brother. He took a deep breath and dropped his gaze away from Angelo’s eyes. He’d be damned if he let Simone fall prey to Angelo’s antics.

“If you’re to manage this branch, you’re going to have to toe the line, Angelo. If you are unable to do it, I will hire an outsider.”

“Calm down, Carlo, one pretty woman and you think I’m eating her knickers. I know what’s at stake.”

“Do you?” Carlo wasn’t sure Angelo understood what Peppe’s heart attack meant. Peppe’s heart attack had been caused by shock and was by no means just an issue of age or health. Dealing with the issue that had triggered the heart attack was going to be difficult. He was thankful that Dino Viggio, his own right-hand man and one of their executive directors, had volunteered to uproot himself from Rome for a year to come and kill the proverbial fires and hold Angelo’s hand.

At least this was not the head office and the whole house of cards underneath it. But this Carlevaro branch was made of straw, and someone was holding a flame to it.

****

Simone sat in the pilot’s seat, waiting for the group to climb up the narrow air stairs and into the nineteen-seat aircraft. She studied each person as they waited their turn. There were a few people she recognized, so they weren’t all from the Rome-based Carlevaro International head office.

The Kenya-based conservation manager, Noel Peters, was getting on the plane. There were three auditors, sweating in their suits behind him. Still on the tarmac were four Tanzanians in khaki clothes and hiking boots that gave them away as game rangers, even though they weren’t carrying their hats and rifles. Then there was the Italian group which included Carlo, his brother Angelo, an older man she’d never seen before, and a tall woman, dressed in elegant white trousers and shirt, with a zebra-print scarf in an intricate knot. She looked familiar, but Simone couldn’t remember where she’d seen her before.

The group lacked the usual buzz the tourists she flew around had—they were too quiet. No thrill of flying in a small plane, no excitement for their first safari or a long-anticipated holiday. This was no site inspection party. It was as if they were heading for a funeral.

Carlo stepped up to make sure the door was closed properly. She lost sight of him as he went around the plane. Soon he would squeeze into the space next to her. Just the idea made her heart beat faster. She signaled to the ground staff that all was in order, put on her headset and spoke to the control tower. Carlo heaved himself into the plane, bending his long legs as he slid into the co-pilot seat next to her. His heat filled the space, his familiar scent drifting over to her in a gentle lure.

God, no one should be allowed to smell so good. Especially not in the tropics.

He buckled up and picked up the flight documentation.

She talked them through the routine pre-departure checks. Between checks she allowed him time to tick off the items on the flight documentation.

“Have you kept up with your flight hours in the past few years?” she asked. Being CEO of Carlevaro International didn’t sound like a job that allowed time for flying.

“Sort of,” Carlo replied as he adjusted the fan behind his head.

“What does that mean?”

“I still need to fly some hours this year.”

“Are you still licensed to fly?”

“Yes.”

If it was anybody else she would’ve insisted on checking his papers, but she didn’t doubt his word. Not when it came to flying. She taxied to the runway, then switched on the recorded message with the flight safety instructions. A calm male voice told the passengers how to fasten their seatbelts and what to do in an emergency. She could recite it in her sleep.

Carlo gave a short laugh and she glanced at him.

“Some things haven’t changed.”

Memories rushed back in a flash. When she’d come to Carlevaro Air in Tanzania for her first job, he had been her mentor for her probation period. At twenty-two she was younger than the average rookie, but Carlo put her at ease those first few days. He made her laugh; there was no ice to break.

He flew with her on every flight, made sure she was comfortable flying to each lodge, landing and taking off on each dirt runway in faraway places like Ruaha and the Ugalla River Game Reserve. They started off with the short flights to Zanzibar, Mafia and Pemba, then to Mikumi. She stretched her wings with him by her side, got to know the aircraft in the fleet, the runways, the lay of the land from the air and GPS coordinates. By the time they’d flown together for a week and a day off loomed, it was as if they’d known each other for years.

On their mutual day off he offered to show her around town, and together they set off in a three-wheeled taxi, called a tuk-tuk, to the few shops around the Peninsula. Afterward, they ate a languid late lunch at an Italian place that overlooked the bay. It was a weekday and they were alone that afternoon in the restaurant. They sat on the comfy lounger, and when he hooked a windswept curl and tucked it in behind her ear she leaned into the circle of his arm as if she belonged there from the first moment. They sat, silent, for a long time, watching the tide come in, a kite surfer catching the wind some distance away. When he brushed her temple with his lips, it was the most natural thing to turn and kiss him back.

“Simone.” Her name sounded so beautiful as it escaped his mouth in a tortured groan. “I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t. Please. Help me resist you.”

She was in no position to resist him. It was really an unfair request. She was herself with him, as she’d never dared to be with any man before him. He made her aware of every inch of her female form, drawing her out of her cocoon as if she’d waited for him her entire life.

He didn’t hurry her but went about it as if they had all the time in the world. “There are no virgins where I come from, Simone. I want to treasure you, every moment with you,” he said, but she was so eager, which made him laugh. He had tried to slow them down, but it was the honeymoon she’d dreamt of, with the man she’d fallen in love with.

She swallowed the sweet memories, but they caught like a big, dry pill, too painful to even choke down.

How the hell had he gone from mere pilot to CEO of Carlevaro International?

“From where I sit a huge number of things have changed.” She nipped any comment from him in the bud by picking up communications with the control tower.

They reached the runway and her palms were sweating. Soon would come that moment where he needed to help her push the overhead throttle. If she could avoid him touching her, she would, but there was no getting out of this one.

“Ready for takeoff,” she said when she got the all clear. She pushed the throttle. Other pilots would place their fingers over hers on the metal throttle, touching as little of her as possible, but Carlo’s fingers stroked over the back of her hand, found their grip, then settled over hers, his palm caressing her knuckles, pushing the throttle hard, bringing the airplane to the required speed for takeoff. The warmth of his hand, the sudden intimate caress of his fingers as he touched her skin sent a shudder down her arm, and it settled in her stomach, from where it spread a warm tide of desire that pooled in the space between her legs.

She wanted to close her eyes and savor the feeling, hating herself for reacting to him, knowing that it had been too long since someone had touched her like that. She kept her eyes open and withdrew her burning hand as soon as the plane was safely in the air. She forced herself to concentrate on flying, putting all emotion aside. She was trained, all right. How arrogant she must have sounded, only to feel jelly-legged after a simple touch of his hand. That was how it had started four years ago.

She peered out of the side window, doing anything to avoid having him in her peripheral. Dar es Salaam spread underneath them and the sea dominated the rest of the view, with its Persian blue waters, dotted with islands, which were surrounded by turquoise waters and circles of sand enclosed with reef.

“I forgot how beautiful it is here.” His voice came to her through her headset.

“Yes,” she said curtly, not wanting to talk to him. She was rattled. She needed space and time. His arrival had ripped open wounds that had taken years to heal.

He was quiet for a long time, staring out of the window at the changing landscape as they flew inland. She knew the exact moment he turned to her; she could feel the way he touched her with his gaze.

“We need to talk, Simone.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she snapped at him like a dog.

He took a deep breath and sighed. “We’ll talk, at some point, whether you like it or not.”

She pursed her lips together. “As long as it’s strictly about work. No digging into the past.” She didn’t dare go there. How would such a conversation end? She’d decided he would never know about Sarah. Any innocent or not-so-innocent conversation could give her away. The best strategy would be to stay away from Carlo Carlevaro.

“It’s about work. I never talk about anything else.” He sighed and raked his hand through his hair, but stopped midway as his headset blocked his hand. He dropped it to his thigh where he clenched and unclenched his fist.

She blinked with a slow sigh. “Good.” Then why the hell did she feel deflated?

They flew in silence until they approached the Selous landing strip at the Carlevaros’ Rufiji Camp. The Rufiji River resembled a swollen brown artery, fed by hundreds of smaller veins, wrinkles at the corner of an eye, that flowed into the bigger water mass. There were a few lodges in this part of the Selous, but the Carlevaros’ camp was situated kilometers away from the rest, in a private concession on an elevated bank of the river.

She landed the aircraft and faced the passengers. They were already unbuckling and wanted to get up. Carlo didn’t move but sat staring at the bush. Two Land Rovers, converted to game drive vehicles, waited next to the airstrip for them.

“Please remain seated,” she called to the back. “How long are we staying?” Simone asked as she took off her headset.

“Two days, maybe more. You need to be on stand-by.”

Her heart plummeted at his words and she closed her eyes. He didn’t know about Sarah. He wouldn’t be so cruel as to intentionally force her to stay if he’d known she had a child at home. That much she would give him.

She was going to be shackled to him for the next few weeks. Why hadn’t she realized it this morning before she even set foot out on the tarmac? She wouldn’t be able to fly this plane anywhere without him. She swore under her breath. Her mind had been too occupied with everything else.

She’d have to beg Ruth to stay with Sarah until she got home. She glared at him. “It would be nice to have some type of schedule. Where are we going next?”

“That depends on the lodge that can accommodate us. Hopefully Ruaha.”

She suppressed a groan. The exclusive Carlevaro lodges were small, with the biggest having forty rooms, able to accommodate up to eighty guests. They could be crisscrossing the country for weeks, flying after availability during high season. It meant she might not go home even for one overnight.

He was still not moving. She opened her door and unbuckled, ready to climb down and open the air stair. Technically it was his duty, but he sat frozen in space.

“Please remember we’ll need to refuel at some point,” she said, reminding herself to keep it business, to keep it practical. And hatch a plan to get home as soon as possible, without making the excuse of having a gorgeous little gray-eyed girl at home who lately had been asking where her daddy was.

He leaned toward her. “Join us for lunch.”

She bit back a retort. A fuel leak could be very useful right now. “No, thank you.” He was so close; it would only take a slight shift for their bodies to touch.

“Simone—”

“You know where to find me once you’ve decided on a departure date and time. Please inform me in time to make the necessary preparations.”

She clambered down and let down the air stair. Being away from his intoxicating scent was a relief. She signaled to the passengers that they could get out and opened the hold. Greeting the rangers who stood close, ready to unload the luggage, she turned to meet and assist the passengers as they descended.

The sun was bright, baking down on the sandy, grass-patched runway. A plover ran with its long legs along the edge, heading for the short cut grass next to it. The noise of the bush filled her numb mind, the buzz of the cicadas and the constant low chatter of weaving birds in a nearby tree. She took a deep breath, savoring the smell of dew-covered grass drying in the sun. Anything to take her mind off him.

“Thank you, Simone, good flying.” Angelo stepped down the stair, put on his sunglasses, and strolled off in the direction of the game drive vehicles. Recognition flashed through her mind as she realized she’d flown him before and on more than one occasion. The image came back in a split second. That same rakish smile, the designer sunglasses—the thing that was missing was the flavor of the month by his side. He’d come to Tanzania a few times over the past few years, taking his girlfriend on exotic vacations.

The rest of the group followed, and she greeted them as they continued to the vehicles. With the hold now empty, the rangers were packing the row of small suitcases and duffle bags, laptops and camera bags into the game drive vehicles. She closed the door of the hold and locked it.

Carlo descended the stairs last, meeting her gaze. “You will join us for the meeting at three. Whether you join us for lunch beforehand is up to you.”

He stalked off, plucking his laptop bag from the remaining luggage next to the vehicles.

She turned to lift the air stairs up, trying not to roll her eyes. She’d say “no thank you” to that polite lunch invitation, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d gotten off lightly.