Make Me Crazy: An Older Man Younger Woman Steamy Stranded Romance
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Make Me Crazy
Adele Hart
Contents
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Choose Me-Sneak Peek
Thrill Me-Sneak Peek
About the Author
Also by Adele Hart
Copyright © 2017 by Adele Hart
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Foreword
Hey Girl,
What’s up? Just getting settled in so you can read a dirty book? That’s cool. I’m probably writing one at the moment, so together we’re completing the circle of dirty book life.
Ever met a sexy helicopter pilot? Me neither, but I’ve seen one on TV and thought, ‘oh, yeah, he’ll do…’ Then I got to thinking, that the whole ‘night in a hotel thing’ wouldn’t do it with this guy. He’s too hot for that. I’d need at least a week alone with him on a deserted island because it’ll take me that entire time to explore that muscly body of his...
But he’d need to know how to fish and stuff so we could eat. And there better be some fruit-bearing trees so we can have some delicious ripe mangos and maybe a little fishing cottage that has some rice stashed away and some coffee (because I’m a complete coffee addict). And wine. There better be wine.
God, I love my job.
I hope you love yours, too. And if you don’t, let me keep providing fun little escapes to take you away from whatever’s stressin’ you out. Because you deserve some fun, girl. You’ve earned it.
Peace out,
Adele (drops mic and goes in search of a pilot and/or coffee and/or wine)
Chapter 1
Paige
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! No! No! No!” I missed it. I can’t believe I missed the last charter flight from St. Lucia. On the day of my big sister’s wedding. I am SO severely screwed.
I stand in the tiny airport blinking quickly, trying very hard not to cry.
My cell phone rings. It’s my mom. Oh, farts. Put on a brave face, Paige!
“Hi, Mom!” I say brightly.
“Where are you?” she hisses into the phone. “Brooke is losing her mind.”
“Tell her not to worry! I’ll be there in plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time? You should have been here two days ago! You’ve missed the rehearsal, the dinner, the ladies’ night on the pirate ship…” she says.
“I’ve got three hours. It’s a twenty-minute flight from here. I’ll be there right away.” I hurry down the airport, my two huge suitcases flying behind me as I frantically search for a charter, preferably a cheap one, since I only have a couple hundred left on my credit card.
“I can’t believe you’ve done this again, Paige. Not this time.” Her voice breaks and I can feel tears forming in my own eyes. “We’re starting photos in ten minutes and you’re going to miss that, too. The hair stylist and makeup artists just left. You’re not going to look anything like the other bridesmaids.”
“I know, but if you knew what the last two days have been like—“
“—What time does your flight leave?”
“Umm, it’s a charter, so they’re just waiting for one passenger, but then we’re loading up.” Oh, I’m going to hell for all the lies I’ve told her since I left New York.
“Gotta go, Mom! I think she just showed up!”
I hang up before she can say anything else and skid to a stop in front of a charter service kiosk. No one is standing behind the counter so I ring the bell repeatedly, even though I know it’s totally obnoxious. “Hello! I’m having an emergency! I need your help.”
A woman in a white uniform comes out the back room. She does not look happy. “What’s wrong? You’re in a huge hurry to leave paradise so you can relax somewhere better for a few days?”
Well, that wasn’t very nice. I smile sweetly. “My sister is getting married today over on a tiny little island called Lover’s Cay, I was supposed to be there two days ago, only I—.”
“Save it. I don’t have any more planes today. It’s the World Cup finals. All the pilots have gone to the pub.”
“What? That’s not a thing. The world doesn’t shut down for a soccer game.”
“It’s called football, and yes, it bloody well does.” She shrugs and turns from me.
“Wait! Do you know anyone who would take me?”
“No, sorry. Go ring someone else’s bell.”
As she disappears into the back, tears prick at my eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Crying won’t help anything. Walk. Just start walking. You will find some help.
As I run the length of the airport, my heels clicking along the white tile floor, my heart starts to sink. Closed signs are sitting neatly on each counter I pass. When I get to the end, the doors slide open and my feet carry me outside for reasons I can’t explain. I step out into the hot wind, my mind racing. What do I do?
Cry. I’m going to cry. I’ve been holding it together for the past four days. I didn’t cry when Rick, my asshole boss, made me work an extra day on the real estate deal that someone else could have assisted him on. I didn’t cry when the flight from New York to Florida was delayed due to mechanical difficulties. I didn’t cry when they overbooked the flight from Florida to St. Lucia and wouldn’t let me on.
But now, now, it’s okay to let it go. At least out here, I can be alone to cry. I plunk myself on a bench shaded by the building and give in to despair. Sobs pour from my chest. My sister is never going to forgive me. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve flaked on her. Three months ago, I was supposed to meet her and her friends in Vegas for her stagette party, but Rick the dick made me cancel at the last minute. The year before, I promised to go back home to New Hampshire for her engagement party. Missed that, too. I’m the worst sister ever.
The sound of a helicopter catches my attention. I watch as it lands on the pad, and the blades slow to a stop. The door opens and a tall, built guy in shorts and a white t-shirt hops out. I leap to my feet and run in his direction, dragging my luggage.
“Hey! Hi, there!” I holler.
He doesn’t answer but takes a key out of his pocket and locks the door.
“Hey! Helicopter man! I need your help!”
His body stiffens, then he turns to me with an irritated look on his face. Even though he’s wearing aviators, I can tell he’s annoyed. Why am I so annoying when I panic?
I stop right in front of him, panting. “Hi! Sorry. I need your help.” Pant.
“All done for the day. Check back with me tomorrow. Or better yet, check with someone else.” His accent says he’s American, probably from the mid-west.
He looks me up and down. “You look high maintenance. I don’t do high maintenance.”
Well, that is certainly rude.
He pockets his keys and walks toward the parking lot. I follow him like a puppy.
“Wait! It’s just a very short ride, I promise you! Are you familiar with Lover’s Cay? It’s like, twenty minutes from here. You can still catch almost the whole soccer game!”
“I have no interest in soccer, but I’m still not gonna help you out.” He keeps walking, striding toward one of the few remaining vehicles in the employee parking lot. A black Jeep with no top.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Take your pick. The result’s the same.” When he reaches the Jeep, he hops over the driver’s door instead of opening it. It’s a bit of a slick move, reminding me of Luke Duke in the Dukes of Hazard. (Not the movie, the old TV series. My dad used to watch reruns with me when I was little, and I was solidly in the Luke camp. Bo’s cute, too, though.) Actually, this guy kind of reminds me of Luke. Tall, dark hair, and devilishly handsome. Except this guy is also built like a tank. All muscles on his muscles.
Oh, my God, Paige! Stop ogling him! You’re in the middle of a crisis! “Please, I’ll pay you anything. I’ve got, like, four hundred dollars left on my credit card. Well, maybe a little closer to three, but it’s all yours. For just a tiny piece of your day.”
He starts up the engine. “Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t leave the ground for under five hundred.”
I reach out and touch his forearm. “Please. I’m desperate. I need to get to my sister’s wedding. I’m one of the bridesmaids and the pictures are going to start in a few minutes. If I’m not there, she’ll never forgive me.”
His face softens. “I wish I could help you, but there’s a storm blowing in from the south. Too dangerous. There’s no way you’re getting to Lover’s Cay today.”
I burst into tears, too upset to be humiliated. That’ll come later I’m sure, but for now, there’s only the soul-crushing defeat of having spent the past fifty-five hours in airports and on planes, only to get this close, and not be able to make it.
I nod at him and whisper, “Thanks, anyway.” Then I turn and slink away, dragging my suitcases along the tarmac.
I look up in time to see him pulling out of the parking lot and onto the highway, then I make my way back to my bench and dig around in my purse for my phone. I’m going to have to call my mom and fess up. This is going to be ugly. For like, the next twenty-five years of my life. Farts.
Chapter 2
Mac
I pull onto the highway and start for home. I’ve been up since four in the morning to do a sunrise tour over the island, then I shuttled some rich people to Grenada because they wanted to switch Sandals Resorts. All I want to do is go home, have a beer and fall asleep in my hammock for a few hours.
I made the right choice to refuse that last job. I know I did. I don’t want anything to do with that girl because I know her type, and her type is nothing but trouble, no matter how drop-dead gorgeous she is. That long, bouncy brunette hair, those full pink lips, all those curves just making my hands itch to touch them…dammit if it hasn’t been too long since I’ve had a woman.
But I don’t want that one. No way, no how.
I turn on the radio and the DJ’s voice comes on. “…The storm is set to hit St. Lucia at three pm today. The Coast Guard has issued a request for all boats to come back to shore immediately…”
I shut off the radio and glance at the clock. It’s five after one. I could totally make it to Lover’s Cay and back in plenty of time. An image flashes through my mind. It’s the pain in the ass walking back to the deserted airport with her shoulders slumped over. I know she’s sitting on a bench right now, crying her eyes out. I feel a pang in my chest.
No, I’m not going to change my mind. This is not my problem. Don’t go taking in another stray, now, Mac. The last one bit you.
I think of her face as it crumpled up and she started sobbing.
“Goddammit.”
I turn the jeep around and go back, regretting what I’m doing before I even do it. When I stop in front of her, she’s got her eyes shut tight and she’s talking on the phone. She’s too engrossed in the conversation to notice me pull up next to her.
“That is so unfair, Mom! I’ve spent the last fifty-five hours in airports and on planes! I haven’t showered in days! The last meal I had was a tiny package of peanuts yesterday. I’m tired and starving and broke and now I’m stuck here at the airport and—.”
I get out of the jeep and clear my throat loud enough for her to hear. She stops talking and looks up at me.
“Let’s go,” I tell her.
She stands and quickly starts gathering her things with one hand. “Mom! I might just make it after all! I think I found a lift!”
Hanging up the phone, she looks overly excited. “Really? You’ll really take me?”
“So long as you don’t waste any more time yakking. I’m serious about that storm. I want to be back here on solid ground in forty-five minutes.”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She throws her arms around my neck and gives me a huge kiss on the cheek. Well, that wasn’t so horrible. For someone who says she hasn’t showered, she sure smells nice—like vanilla shampoo or something. My cock wakes up and asks what we’re up to. Nothing, unfortunately. Wrong kind of ride.
“Sorry!” she says, blushing. “I’m just so excited.”
“I can tell.” I lift her suitcases and pop them in the backseat. “Get in.”
She runs around to the other side of the Jeep and climbs in. “I’m Paige, by the way. Paige Stanwood.”
“Mac Gamble.” I drive us the hundred or so feet to the tarmac. I’m not supposed to leave my Jeep here, in fact, it’s a two thousand dollar fine, but nobody’s around, and I’ll be right back to move it. I’d rather risk the fine than take the extra time to park and end up fighting high winds.
I start to load her suitcases in the cargo hold, but she stops me.
“I need my stuff so I can get dressed. I have to be ready for pictures as soon as we land.”
“No can do, anything this heavy has to be back here, so I can drop it if we run into trouble.”
“Drop it? No way am I letting you drop my clothes! This is practically everything I own.”
Yup, I knew she’d be a pain in the ass. “Look, Ms. Stanwood, quickly, and I mean, quickly, get what you need. The rest stays back here.”
She bites her lip and stares at her luggage for a second.
“You want a ride or not?”
“I want it.”
***
Once we’re up in the air, she turns to me. “Is there a bathroom? I need to get into my dress,” she shouts into the headphones.
“I take this is your first time on a helicopter.” I talk quietly so she’ll know there’s no reason to yell.
“Yes! It’s my first time!” Didn’t work. She’s still piercing my ears with every word. “Where can I change?”
I point behind me with my thumb. “Right there.”
Her cheeks go bright pink and then she nods. “Okay.”
Peeling off her headphones, she tries to unbuckle the seatbelt, but it won’t work. I reach over with one hand and undo it for her, my fingers brushing against her hip and making my blood race a little.
She climbs out the seat and brushes past me to the back where her suitcases are taking up half my damn aircraft. I glance back in the rearview mirror and see her bent over, unzipping a garment bag. I installed a mirror a while back to keep an eye on my passengers—as soon as I see one go a little green, I hand a bag back right quick. The mirror has saved my ass on many an occasion, but I’ve never been as happy to have it as I am now. The ass on this girl is amazing. Curvy and round—the kind you want to sink your teeth into.
Okay, I need to stop that now. Gawking at her like that is just plain creepy. She’s got to be at least ten years younger than me. Plus, she’s my client. Plus,
I should be paying attention to what I’m doing.
A little glance every now and then can’t hurt though…
She crouches behind the chair and lifts her shirt over her head. Now her bra drops to the floor. Pants are next. Now, her panties? Sweet Jesus, she’s killing me. She’s completely nude back there. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for autopilot. And the green light from this woman. Even though she’s annoying as hell, I wouldn’t mind taking her for a spin. Or ten.
I see her take some wipes out of a small plastic container and start giving herself a wash. One thing about women, they sure do come prepared. She catches me looking and something in her eyes says she doesn’t mind. It’s the way she holds my gaze for a second. Instead of looking angry or embarrassed, she just stares at me, before she crouches down again, presumably to get her dress on.
I am hard as a fucking rock right now. I set my eyes where they belong, out the window, and what I see is like a splash of ice water to my cock. We’re heading toward a mass of clouds as black as night. I turn slightly to the west toward Lover’s Cay, and increase our speed, realizing this may not have been my best idea yet.
A moment later, an enormous, fluffy peach takes over half the cockpit. I look over at Paige and she rolls her eyes. As soon as she gets her headset on, she says, “I know it’s awful. Don’t laugh.”
But, it’s too late. I burst out laughing. “Jesus, does your sister hate you or something?”
“No! All the bridesmaids are wearing these. Brooke thinks these are really pretty.”
“Brooke’s wrong. You look like you got stuck in a cotton candy machine.”
Paige puts up one hand and scowls, but not too much, just a little. I can tell she finds it funny. “Okay. Thank you, but I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”
I watch in awe as she opens the massive makeup case that she has on her lap, and gets to work on her face. The lid opens up to reveal a mirror and about twenty drawers holding all kinds of things she really doesn’t need. I want to tell her that, but I won’t. I’ve already made an ass of myself by staring at her while she was changing. And those clouds are getting a lot closer now, so I really need to focus on what I’m doing.