With true love, there’s no such thing as a safe distance.
Mary Kildare knows how to read people. It’s both why she makes a great therapist and why she refuses to trust the average bachelor. Staying fiercely independent has been her primary relationship strategy—until wealthy playboy pilot (and commitmentphobe) Glen Fairchild reappears in her life. After a yearlong teasing tug-of-war, Mary and Glen test the waters of attraction, only to find that their physical chemistry runs deeper than flirtation.
At first, a bicoastal romance suits them both—especially since Glen can swoop in and whisk Mary away on one of his company’s planes. But no matter how close they get, they’re still three thousand miles apart. And when Mary’s life is threatened, Glen realizes the one luxury he doesn’t have is time. Can he close the distance between them before it’s too late?
She dug it free without losing sight of the last moments of the sun. “Mary Kildare.”
“Most people just say hello.”
Mary let her eyes close and fought the smile that attempted to cross her lips.
“Most people don’t start a conversation with an insult.”
Glen, with a husky sound she’d become a little too fond of, chuckled.
She followed his lead. “Hello, Glen.”
There was a slight delay in the line, which made their conversation stutter. “Where are you?” she asked.
“Somewhere over Texas.”
So he was on a plane. She assumed as much. Instead of asking why he was calling, she waited for him to speak.
He hesitated . . . or maybe it was the delay. “Do you have plans this Saturday?”
She gripped the phone a little too tight. “Why are you asking?”
“We both know why I’m asking.”
Mary paused and held her breath. “I don’t have any plans.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at four.”
The sun was already gone. “I don’t believe I said yes.”
He laughed. “I don’t believe you said no.”
Any other man, any other time, she’d tell him to ask . . . make him work a little harder to secure a date. “Fly safe.”
“See you Saturday.”
He was about to hang up.
“Wait . . . what should I wear?”
“I’d like to say those tiny shorts you wear to bed, but I think a simple dress will do.”
Mary covered her face in her hand. Her boy shorts . . . he’d seen her butt hanging out of her pajamas.
He hung up laughing. No good-bye, not a see you later . . . simply disconnected the call.
And Mary smiled.
About the Author & Links:
New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bybee was raised in Washington State, but after graduating high school, she moved to Southern California in hopes of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full-time and has penned the Weekday Brides Series and the Not Quite Series. Bybee lives with her two teenage sons in Southern California.
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