At the first sign of trouble, Jackson tried to think his way through this mess. Thinking was hard when Brogan had the barrel of that nasty gun pressed against his temple. Jackson had spent a lot of time sweating.

He’d thought about trying to disarm the guy, but in a small area like this a bullet could ricochet. Genevieve could get shot, even if the gun wasn’t pointed in her direction. Wrestling Brogan for the gun didn’t seem like the way to go.

Instead Jackson concentrated on the plane’s instrument panel. Thank God he hadn’t told Brogan that he’d flown simulations, or he’d have a bullet through his brain right now. Instead, he and Genevieve had a chance. Not a big chance, but a chance.

The jerk finally leaped, and Jackson could only hope there was a shark down below with a taste for certified asshole. But he didn’t have time to waste thinking about Brogan’s fate. He moved to the pilot’s seat.

“Come on up here!” he called out to Genevieve.

When he got no response, he turned to discover that she was frozen in place, her eyes buggy with terror. He was pretty damned scared himself, but letting her know wouldn’t help the situation.

“Don’t worry!” he shouted. “I think I can fly this thing!”

“B-but you said—”

“I know! But I’ve flown computer simulations!”

She reached out a hand toward him, and he leaned back to grab it. Gripping his hand and keeping her gaze fastened on his, she made it up to the cockpit, but she didn’t relinquish his hand as she settled into the copilot’s seat.

He decided they needed something to break the tension. “Do you really give great blow jobs?”

She stared at him.

“That was a joke! I know what you were trying to do, and it was a great idea.”

“Oh.” She swallowed.

“For what it’s worth, I think he was a fool not to take you up on your offer.”

“Do you…really think you can fly this?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t the least bit sure. The instrument panel was similar to one he’d seen in a simulation, but not identical. All the same, he’d never been in such a perfect position to be a hero in front of a woman he wanted to impress. The stakes were a little higher than he would have liked, but he couldn’t do anything about that.

“So you could turn us around and get us back to Honolulu?”

“I’m not totally sure I could do that, but I’ll bet I can get us on the ground somewhere.” He glanced down at her hand clutching his. “If you turn me loose, that is. I do my best work with my right hand.”

“Oh!” She released him immediately and there were red marks on the back of his hand where her nails had been. “I’m so sorry!”

“Not a problem.” Jackson flexed his hand and leaned forward to peer at the instrument panel. “Flying out over the Pacific with the gas gauge getting low, now that’s a problem.”

“It’s getting low?” She strained against her seat belt to look where he was looking.

“You have a set of gauges, too.” He pointed them out because he’d just realized how distracting it would be to have her hover close like that. Here they were in a life-and-death situation, and he was still mulling over her line about the blow job.

Promising sex to Brogan had been a reasonable bargaining chip, and obviously she’d only said that thing about the blow job to get his attention. It hadn’t worked on Brogan, but Jackson couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wondered if Genevieve would have said that regardless of whether she was good at the activity. Probably. Then again…

“The gas is low,” she said. “The way Nick was talking, I thought we’d be going along on idle for a long time.”

“Airplane gas is expensive.” He put his hands loosely on the wheel. “He probably didn’t want to waste any more than he had to. We’re already far enough out that we’d be hard to find.”

“But we’re not going down, because you’re going to turn us around and get us back to land.”

“Yeah.” Now was not the time to tell her he’d crashed the simulator a few times.

“We’re heading toward some clouds.”

“I know.” He had to get them turned before they reached the clouds. Flying on instruments was another whole thing, and he’d never worked on that.

“Tarnation, Jackson! You’re slower than a coon dog with a full belly. Start flying!”

Despite their treacherous circumstances, he grinned. “What did you say?”

“I said get the lead out!”

“No, I mean the part about me being slower than a coon dog with a full belly.” Okay, he had the basics figured out. He could do this. But he was nervous as hell, and talking about coon dogs helped.

“I suppose we might die together, so it doesn’t matter if you know. I spent the first fifteen years of my life living in the backwoods of Tennessee. I mean the back backwoods.”

“Really?” Sure enough, he’d been right about her. There was more to Genevieve Terrence than met the eye, although what met the eye was wonderful enough.

“Yes, really. But I’d appreciate it if we could save the discussion of my roots for another time so that you can concentrate on flying this plane.”

“I am concentrating.” He took the plane out of idle and gripped the wheel. This was it. He was flying this hunk of metal. “But if you’d talk to me about those backwoods days, it would keep me from hyperventilating while I concentrate.”

“Lord in heaven, you’re scared.”

“Some.” He turned the wheel and a gust of wind must have hit them, because the plane bucked.

Genevieve screamed.

“We’re okay.” His stomach knotted, but he kept turning the wheel a little at a time while he kept adjusting the altitude. “Talk to me, Gen.”

“Are we going to die?”

“Not if I can help it. Tell me about Tennessee.”

“Granny Neville died in a plane crash. They couldn’t find enough of her to fill a casket. They ended up stuffing one of her outfits with old rags so it would look like there was somebody in there during the viewing. They found a picture of her face and stuck that on a honeydew.”

“That wasn’t the kind of anecdote I had in mind.” The right wing cut through cottony wisps of clouds. He was turning barely in time to avoid the muscular-looking clouds they’d been heading toward. “Do you have any stories that don’t involve people being dismembered in a plane crash?”

“Well, there was the time Uncle Rufus heard a noise outside his cabin and went out to investigate in his ridge runners. Turns out the—”

“Hold it. What’s a ridge runner?” Finally the nose of the plane pointed east, toward the morning sun. He saw a sliver of brown on the far horizon and headed for that.

“Is that land up ahead?”

“Looks like it.” He didn’t want to think about the landing part of this gig. Landing on a normal paved runway was tough enough for beginners, but landing on uneven ground was damned near impossible for someone who’d never flown a real plane before. “What’s a ridge runner?”

“Long johns. They’re usually red. At least all the ones my relatives wear are red. Or they start out that way, but eventually they become sort of flesh colored, which is probably what the ones were that Uncle Rufus had on that night. The man hated breaking in a new pair of ridge runners. He claimed the seams rubbed his privates raw.”

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Genevieve Terrence would have such stories to tell. And they were the perfect thing to keep his mind off the ordeal ahead of them. “So how come you call them ridge runners?”

“Because when the revenuers show up trying to arrest you for operating a still, they like to come in the middle of the night, so naturally you have to take off across the ridges wearing your long johns because there’s no time to put on your clothes.”

“Your relatives made moonshine?” He was totally fascinated, and while he thought about men in red long johns running the ridges of Tennessee to escape the tax man, he nearly forgot that he’d have to put the plane down on the tiny wedge of land that looked too small to handle a helicopter, let alone a plane that had to taxi to a stop.

“They still make moonshine,” she said. “From a family recipe. It’ll clean out your sinuses and marinate your tonsils.”

“I’ll just bet.”

“You’re flying the plane great, Jackson. We’re nearly out of gas, huh?”

“We should make it to that island.”

“It doesn’t look very big.”

“No.” He glanced over at her. “So what happened when Uncle Rufus went out to investigate the noise?”

She motioned him to face forward. “Keep your eyes on the road. Or on the sky. Whatever. Don’t look at me.”

He’d rather look at her than at the tiny island they were headed for, and it wasn’t as if he had to worry about running into anything up here. But obviously she expected him to look out the windshield while he was flying the plane, so he did that.

“That’s better. Why didn’t you shave this morning?”

“Got up too late.” And it suddenly hit him that if he’d missed this plane, she wouldn’t have had a prayer of getting out alive. She barely had one now, but there was a slim chance he’d be able to set this thing down without killing them both.

She sighed. “Jackson, you simply have to pay better attention to your grooming. I’m sure Matt didn’t want you going to Aloha Pineapple looking like you just climbed out of bed.”

“I was planning to buy a razor and some shaving cream in the drugstore and shave before I went to Aloha.” He felt like a little kid being reprimanded, which didn’t fit in with his hero schtick at all.

“I’m relieved to hear that. You have a really nice profile, you know.”

“I do?” He sat up a little straighter.

“What I can see of it between the bristles sticking out all over that chin of yours. It’s hard to believe you grew those porcupine quills in one night. Looks like they could take the rust off a tailpipe.”

He laughed. All these months he’d been daydreaming about a Genevieve who was cool and sophisticated, way too cool and sophisticated for the likes of him. He loved being wrong.

“Um, Jackson, if we’re going to land on that sorry excuse for an island, don’t you have to start getting lower?”

He did, but the whole concept had him dripping with sweat. He shoved gently forward on the wheel and the nose dropped, giving him a view of more ocean and island, less view of sky. He hated to lose the sky. Flying through it at a steady speed had begun to appeal to him. If the bastard had put more gas in the plane, they could have gone on.

He had no idea what that might have accomplished, without a radio. He’d still have to land all by himself, and in a more populated area he might take out some other innocent folks in the process. No, it was better to land out here. His stomach pitched.

“I don’t see anyplace that looks flat.” Genevieve’s voice trembled slightly.

“Me, either.” The island jutted out of the ocean like a chocolate cake made by a six-year-old—brown lava rock with a few decorations of green along the steep sides and near the bottom, where a small crescent beach shone ivory in the sun. The top of the island reminded him of a pitted moonscape. He’d be surprised if it was more than two hundred yards across. There was no sign of life.

“What are we going to do?” The tremble in her voice was more pronounced.

He could only see one option. “Can you swim?”

“Swim?” Panic edged her words. “What do you mean, can I swim?”

“Can you swim?” He was yelling, but he couldn’t help it. If she couldn’t swim, he didn’t know how the hell they’d survive, because he didn’t think he could get them both to shore. He steepened the descent and cut the speed. He could see whitecaps now.

“Yes, I can swim! Are you telling me we have to land in the water?”

“I don’t see any alternative.” He clenched the wheel, clenched his teeth, even clenched his toes. If there was a coral reef just under the surface, they were done for. “I’ll try to put it down as close to that beach as I can get without running into the cliff. Once we hit the water, we—”

“Hit the water? Can’t you just settle the plane gently down into the water?”

“Look, this is not the fucking Millennium Falcon, okay?”

“Don’t get all mad at me! I’m not the one who got us into this.”

“No, it was your precious boyfriend Nicky, wasn’t it? What did you ever see in that slick talker, anyway?” The water drew closer.

“He seemed very nice! I suppose you knew all along that he was a murderer, because you’re so smart. Tell me, Mr. Smarty-Pants, if you didn’t trust him, why did you come on this trip?”

“Because Matt asked me.” God, they were coming in too fast, the water skimming along underneath them. He worked with the flaps, hoping that would help. It seemed to, a little. “And because I thought—”

“What? Oh, Jackson, we’re going to die, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know.” But he thought they might, so he decided to tell her. “I came on this trip mostly because of you. I thought I might be able to help you when Brogan broke your heart.”

“That’s so sweet. I take back calling you Mr. Smarty-Pants.” Her voice was thick, like she might be crying. “You are smart, though, and I admire that. And you’ve always been nice to me, especially on this trip, when I was scared.”

“I’m sorry I’m not a better pilot.”

“You’re doing your best.”

“Okay, I’m going to cut the motor. We’ll go down pretty fast after that. Once we’re down, get out of the plane as quick as you can and start swimming for the beach. Don’t try to find me first. Just start swimming.”

“Okay. Same with you. Just start swimming.”

“And you’re sure you can swim?”

“Yes.” She choked back a sob. “Every kid in the Hollow learns to swim.”

“Good. Cover your head with your arms.” He cut the motor.

* * *

Waiting for the impact was horrible, and it seemed to take forever. Genevieve had time for plenty of regrets and prayers and loving thoughts for the mother and brother she might never see again. Would the plane never land?

Then it did, and she wished it hadn’t. The water had no give to it, and they hit so hard the windshield cracked. She tasted blood and knew she’d bitten her tongue.

Still, she was alive.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Jackson shouted.

And thank God, so was Jackson. As water poured in from the open cabin door, she struggled to unfasten her seat belt.

“Come on, Gen!” Jackson shouted again.

“I’m trying!” She concentrated harder on the seat belt as the water level in the cockpit rose almost to her knees. At last the seat belt came free. Then she couldn’t think what to do next.

Jackson was already on his feet. “Through the back door, damn it!” He started to lift her out of her seat.

“I’m going!” Shitfire, she didn’t want him worrying about her. He’d said it would be every man for himself. She waded through the plane to the open door, took a quick look to make sure she knew where the beach was, and realized she’d lost her right contact. She shut her right eye and looked through her left.

“Go!” Jackson yelled in her ear.

“I’m going!” The beach still seemed much too far away. She was used to swimming for enjoyment, not distance. Oh, well. She launched herself into what she prayed weren’t shark-infested waters and started swimming as fast as she could.

The crawl stroke, her old reliable method of getting herself through the water in a hurry, was twenty times harder while wearing a dress, jacket, and high-heeled sandals. But stopping to take them off could leave her a sitting duck for Jaws and all his relatives. She kept going until her arms ached and her lungs burned. At least the water was warm, but after a while she forgot to be thankful for that because her body was in such agony.

Finally she switched to the breast stroke and squinted through her left eye again. The beach didn’t appear to be much closer, damn it. Maybe she should just drown and get it over with. Then she wouldn’t care what ate her.

“First one to the beach gets a Starbucks Mocha Frappuccino!”

Treading water, she turned her head and saw Jackson bobbing about two yards away. Without his glasses on. “Can you see?”

“Sort of.” He swam a little closer. “At least I recognized you.”

“Very funny.” Treading water like this let her catch her breath, although she didn’t want to think of what could be circling her, waiting to move in and take a big juicy bite. But as long as she was taking a break, she might as well work herself out of her shoes. “Did you lose your glasses?”

“Nope. Tucked them inside my underwear.”

She assumed that meant he wore tighty whiteys instead of boxers. Knowing Jackson, that figured. She nudged one shoe off and glanced back to where they’d left the plane. Nothing but water. “The plane’s gone.” She felt even more vulnerable now that their link to civilization had sunk beneath the waves.

“I know. Come on,” he said. “Race you to the beach.”

“I’ll be lucky if I get to the beach. Couldn’t you have landed a little closer?”

“I should have, huh? I totally forgot that the water taxis aren’t running at this hour.” He grinned at her.

“Jackson, did you take a blow to the head? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a heap of trouble here.”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose? First there’s the swim to the beach, where we might either drown or be gobbled up by sharks. Then once we get to the beach we have no supplies, no flares, no nothing.” And no shoes for her, now that she’d kicked off the second one. But she was used to being barefoot.

“Yeah, but did you notice that we’re not up in the air anymore?”

“Well, sure, but—”

“I landed the plane! And I didn’t kill us! Gen, that’s awesome.”

“I guess it is.”

“I can hardly believe I did that.”

She’d never noticed that his eyes were blue, maybe because they were usually bloodshot and covered by smudged lenses. She’d have better luck finding him a girlfriend if she could get him into contacts. Then again, maybe he looked better because one of her contacts was missing. She closed her right eye and used only her left. And there he was, still fairly date-worthy.

“Are you winking at me?”

“No. I lost one contact.”

“Oh. For a minute there I thought you might be trying to hit on me.”

She knew he was joking, and yet something in his voice told her it wasn’t totally a joke. Before the plane crashed he’d said something about coming on this trip so that he could help her. Was it at all possible that Jackson had a crush on her? Now, that would be awkward.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get moving.”

“Okay.” Taking a breath, she started swimming toward shore again, and not having her shoes helped considerably. She would make it, damn it.

But distressingly soon her arms began to ache again and she grew short of breath. She switched to the breast stroke and then the side stroke, always aware of Jackson swimming steadily beside her. Whenever she slowed, he slowed. He was keeping pace with her. She just wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep pace with him.

They needed to discuss it. She stopped swimming and began treading water again.

He noticed immediately and followed suit. “Need a break?”

She nodded, too winded to speak. But he didn’t seem winded at all. She’d never have guessed he’d be in good physical shape. She’d assumed that he spent all his time in front of the computer and never got any exercise.

“You can make it, Gen,” he said.

She liked the way he’d started calling her Gen instead of using her full name. It made them seem closer, like buddies, and right now she needed that feeling, because he was her only hope. But she didn’t want to put him in more danger because she wasn’t up to the challenge.

“It’s not much farther,” he said.

She glanced toward shore and was even more discouraged when the vision in both eyes was blurry. “I lost my other contact.”

“When we get there you can wear my glasses.”

His gentleness made her want to cry. “I’m not sure I’m going to get there,” she said. “I’m so tired.” She looked at him with a mixture of admiration and frustration. “How come a brainiac like you swims like an Olympic athlete?”

He treaded water and gazed at her. “Nerds work out, too, you know.”

“You belong to a gym?” She couldn’t picture it.

“No. I have a whole setup at home. I work out when I’m thinking about a project, and since I’m usually thinking about a project, I work out a lot.”

“Well, I don’t work out at all, and I’m fading fast. I want you to go on ahead.”

“Like hell.”

“No, really, Jackson. Don’t be noble. You said that when we left the plane we’d both have to fend for ourselves. That’s the way it should be.”

“That was just to get you started. I never planned to abandon you.”

And she didn’t want him to, either. But he might have to, for his own good. She wouldn’t drag him down with her. “Look, it’s stupid for both of us to drown or get chewed on by sharks. You go ahead and I’ll either make it…or I won’t.”

His expression tensed. “Do you imagine for one minute that I’m the kind of guy who would leave you out here?”

Until now, she’d never thought about what kind of guy he was, and he was surprising her at every turn. “I know you wouldn’t want to, but be realistic.”

“Are you done in? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not completely, but close.”

“Can you float okay?”

“Jackson, I want you to—”

“Can you float?”

The edge to his voice took her aback. That was twice now he’d shown a tough side she’d never imagined good old Jackson would have. The first time was when he’d demanded to know if she could swim. She was beginning to realize that if she’d said she couldn’t, he’d have tried to land the plane on the top of the island, no matter how impossible it had looked. For whatever the reason, he’d appointed himself her protector.

“Yes, I can float,” she said.

“Then get on your back. I’m towing you in.”

“No. That will take twice as much energy, and I don’t care how often you work out, you’re going to get tired.”

His expression was like granite. “I’m not leaving you. You can either get on your back and let me tow you in or we can stay here and tread water until you’re too exhausted to move, and then I’ll tow you in, but by then I’ll be more tired, so we’ll both be at greater risk.”

“You’re not towing me. I’m swimming.” And she set off, although every muscle in her body protested. Damn his noble hide. He was liable to kill himself trying to help her. She couldn’t let him do that.