It was nearly midnight by the time Clark turned off the main road and onto the one that led to Leeds Bradford International Airport. He steered the long limousine past the main entrance and drove to a nearby hanger.

Sandra sat staring out the side window, her heart pounding with excitement and anticipation, her stomach flipping and her hands sweating. This was the moment she had been waiting for all day. A time when she and Creighton would begin their lives together as husband and wife. On one hand, she felt like crying, it was all so surreal, while on the other she was scared to death. What if Cathy was right? What if she wasn’t the type of woman he needed? What if she found herself alone mending a broken heart?

“Ready to go?” he asked, placing a large hand on her knee.

Sandra smiled and turned to look at him, the love echoing in his dark eyes gave her the courage she needed to face whatever happened. She nodded and turned back to the window, looking out at the white plane which sat beneath several floodlights. The sound of the engines humming softly through the still of the night alerted all around that the plane was preparing to leave.

The side of the fuselage held six small round windows in a row, while two side windows and a large windshield encased the cockpit. Two blue diagonal stripes decorated the nose of the plane, just behind the front windows. On the tail of the plane was written the plane’s identification, GV2504, in blue block letters, and on the side beneath the cockpit windows was the name, Kansas Kandy.

A very attractive red-haired woman stepped out of the door, her well-endowed frame accented beneath a tailored black skirt and snug white blouse. Her long legs were thin and bare, and she wore a pair of high black stiletto heels. Beside her stepped two men. One Oriental, tall and thin with short black hair, the other Caucasian, somewhat shorter with blonde hair, both wore dark black suits with crisp white shirts, black ties, and caps. They looked very professional as they stood on the top of the stairs awaiting their employer.

“Nervous?” Creighton asked, picking up on his wife’s sudden silence.

“A bit,” she lied, causing him to laugh.

“Don’t be. It will be a great trip filled with romance and adventure. Exactly the type of fairytale you’ve always wanted.”

“Every day with you is filled with romance and adventure.”

“Glad to hear that,” he replied with a wide smile. “As I recall, you owe me for the lack of affection this afternoon.”

“You wouldn’t dare?” she warned, staring at him through a stunned gaze, the amused expression on his handsome face was both challenging and endearing.

“Oh, but my darling, I not only would, I will. Only not here. The crew is waiting, and we have a scheduled departure that has to be met. Come on,” he said reaching for her hand. “Let’s go start our honeymoon.”

Creighton said something very quietly to Clark who held the door open for them, and Sandra didn’t miss the wink he offered, causing her face to warm under the blush she knew was creeping up her neck.

“Kansas Kandy?” she asked with a frown as they neared their destination.

“That’s her name,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “This is actually the second plane I’ve owned since my business took off. My first one was old when I bought her and after a couple of years, became too dangerous to fly. I bought this one just before my first trip to Hoisington, so that was her maiden flight. I named her when we returned, after a specific young woman I fell in love with while in Kansas. All I could think of was her beautiful smile and her incredible laugh.” Sandra’s eyes widened as she realized what he was saying.

“The first time I laid eyes on you, you were reading to a group of children at the library. When you finished, you took them all to the counter and gave them each a piece of candy. The typical treat for after storytime, as I was told. The thought of you drove me crazy, and I couldn’t stop wondering what you would taste like. What better name for my plane than that of my own delicious treat?”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or not,” Sandra said. “If I didn’t already know you, I’d be worried about you stalking me.”

“You already know I was, so what’s the problem? I would follow you to the ends of the universe, this you are undoubtedly aware of?”

“That I am, Mr. Ashford,” Sandra giggled, taking the first step up to the plane.

Creighton introduced the tall oriental man as Aiden Davies, the Pilot, Charles Cooper was the co-pilot, and Eryn Jenkins, the very attractive flight attendant. They all nodded and welcomed her aboard the Kansas Kandy, causing Sandra to blush yet again. Finlay Parker and Rhett Harvey stepped forward to greet them, shaking Creighton’s hand and smiling to Sandra as they stepped through the door. Sandra paused in the middle of the path, the sight beyond stole her breath away as she looked around her.

The interior of the plane was large with the front appearing more like a meeting room, holding four brown upholstered bench seats, two on either side of the plane facing each other, with a dark wooden table between each set. The floor was covered in a thick plush beige carpet, and the walls were decorated in two-tone tan wallpaper, in an etched swirl pattern. Behind the meeting room was a large…very large…main room, with two half-circular sofas against the sides. Like the loveseats, these were upholstered in brown and held six cream-colored pillows spread across the length, with two matching throw covers, one on each sofa. A dark wooden coffee table stood between the sofas, long, thin, and polished to a high sheen.

On the back wall were two dark wooden doors and between them was a small wet bar with etched mirrored shelves holding wine glasses and goblets. The walls had several sconce lights of antique brass that looked like bouquets of lilies, the light shades were frosted off-white glass with the tips a dark yellow resembling peddles. The windows were covered by cream-colored shades that had been opened about three inches, allowing the glow from the floodlights to filter through.

To the left of the entrance was a small galley style kitchen with a built-in refrigerator and a tiny two-burner stovetop. There were four upper cupboards on the walls and cabinets beneath a granite counter. Next to the entrance of the plane was a second door that stood open to reveal the cockpit beyond. Sandra suddenly felt very much out of her league in the midst of such wealth and luxury. It was inviting and stifling at the same time, and she became more anxious and frightened with each tick of the clock that hung on the wall opposite the door.

“Relax,” Creighton told her, as though reading her mind again. “You’ll get used to it.”

He edged her forward with a hand on the small of her back until she was in the main body of the plane. He sat on one of the large sofas, pulling her down next to him as the door was secured and the crew took their stations.

“I know it’s a little overwhelming, but you’ll adjust,” he told her. “Money can be your friend or your enemy. It all depends on how you look at it, and what you do with it.”

“I just keep thinking about an old adage my grandmother told me,” she said, her hands suddenly feeling too large for her lap, as she wound her fingers together. “Money corrupts, and absolute money corrupts absolutely.”

“That’s power, darling, and even a poor man can do evil with a dollar.”

“I suppose,” she said absently as the engines roared to life.

“We’ll take this slow,” he promised, removing his jacket and tossing it across the end of the sofa. “I will give you lessons in wealth and you will give me lessons in husbandry.”

Sandra couldn’t help but smile, feeling much more comfortable with him the instant he relaxed on the sofa next to her, his feet perched on the coffee table.

“We’ll be leaving in a few minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Ashford,” Captain Davies said over the speaker. “The weather is clear to Versailles and we should arrive in about fifty minutes. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.”

“Ready to go?” Creighton asked again, as the plane began to move forward.

He reached across her and pulled a seatbelt from between the cushions on the sofa and fastened it around her, smiling seductively to her as he cinched it tight.

“I don’t think I have a choice, do I?” she teased, the fear slipping quickly away as excitement began to take hold.

“Not really,” he assured her. “Even if you could escape, I wouldn’t let you. I’ve told you before. The dangerous side would hunt you down.”

“But I’d have the safe side waiting for me.”

Creighton chuckled, kissing her temple as he eased her back into his embrace.

“Just remember that my love,” he assured her when the plane’s wheels lifted from the earth and they were enveloped in the darkness of the night sky.

Sandra smiled happily, snuggling closer to his chest. She had married the man she spent a lifetime dreaming about. He taught her to love and to believe in her dreams, he gave her the world, and hope for the future, and in exchange, she gave him her heart, her soul and her body. He was hers. This incredible loving handsome man she put her faith and trust into. This man she proudly called husband.

“Time to wake up, wife,” Creighton whispered beside her ear, his breath sending warm chills down her spine. Sandra smiled, feeling his naked body behind her in the bed, his legs wrapping around hers as he spooned his chest into her back.

“I don’t want to wake up,” she told him in a sulky tone.

“Come on, the plane will be landing soon, and I need to get you to the flat so you can get some real sleep.”

“But I’m comfortable here,” she argued.

“Well, if you’d like, we could spend the night here and go to the flat in the morning. We’ll be locked in and safe from prying eyes, so you can run around the plane naked, or I could chase you, whichever you desire.”

“We can’t stay here. What about the crew and your security team?”

“They have their own places in Versailles. The door locks from the inside and the plane will be put into a hanger until we need it again. We have food and water, a bathroom, and most importantly, the bed. What else could you possibly ask for on the first day of your honeymoon?”

Sandra rolled over, so she could look into his dark eyes. It was tempting, very tempting, as much as making love thirty thousand feet in the air had been.

“What would your crew say?” she asked.

“Who cares?” he asked with a wicked smile. “It’s my plane. I can do what I want.”

“Have you ever stayed overnight on it before?”

“Not like this, but I’ve never made love on it either. It has this bedroom, but until tonight, I hadn’t found a need for it. If I wanted to sleep I would do it on the sofa, or in one of the chairs. It’s nice to know the bed is comfortable enough to make love to my wife in, though. Now, do you want to stay?”

Sandra bit her bottom lip contemplating the idea of doing exactly that. It would be something she could write about in her journal if she ever started one, and definitely a memory to hold in her old age.

“I’ll go tell Harvey and Parker,” he said, seeing her answer shining in her eyes. “I’ll have them come back for us tomorrow.”

“What about our bags?” she asked, sitting up in the bed as he pulled on his pants.

“They’re here,” he assured her. “Private jets usually don’t misplace the luggage. I’ll get them before the crew locks us in.”

“Creighton,” she said softly, her eyes cast down to the bed. “What about Bachmeier? Could he get in?”

Creighton sat next to her on the queen-sized bed, taking her hand in his and kissing the knuckles gently.

“We’re safer here than if we were surrounded by eighty security guards,” he told her. “The door is very secure and locks tighter than Fort Knox. The only thing you’ll have to worry about is me.” Sandra giggled wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I really love you,” she said, thrilled when he pulled her out of bed to sit naked on his lap.

“And I love you,” he assured her, feeling the plane’s descent. “I want you to be happy and stop worrying. We’ll find the bastard and put him back where he belongs. You have to trust me.”

“I trust you with every fiber of my being,” she assured him with a warm smile.

“Then I better go talk with Harvey and Parker.” Creighton kissed her hard and passionate, pushing her back down to the mattress. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

With that said, he walked out the door, bare-chested and barefooted, leaving her alone and naked in the bed.

Sandra sighed deeply, stretching her arms above her head. She was happy, despite all that had happened the last two days, and she was determined to enjoy herself, and their time together. As the plane landed, her stomach jerked, making her aware she needed to use the bathroom. She remembered from her former plane trips that you shouldn’t move around when the plane was landing, but then again, she didn’t know you could make love in a bed while on a plane, either.

Once the wheels touched the ground a second time, Sandra had no choice. She wrapped a blanket around her naked frame and carefully walked to the door and opened it. Creighton was sitting in one of the love seats at the front of the plane, across from Harvey and Parker. He looked up when the door opened, and smiled, watching her quietly slip into the bathroom.

She had never been in a private airplane before, so she had no idea what to expect from the bathroom. The room was large, remarkably so, with white walls and dark wood trim. There was a sink in a half-circle shape, a smaller than normal toilet, but still larger than the one on the plane she had taken to France, and porcelain not metal. There was a narrow bench with a thick cushion to sit on, and a full-size shower with rain jets. The same familiar sconces, from the main section of the plane, decorated the wall, and the floor was tiled in marble squares. The room had no windows, yet it was very comfortable and bright.

After washing up and using the facilities, Sandra folded the blanket, then retrieved the thick white robe hanging on the back of the door. She had to roll the sleeves up, since it was made for her husband’s larger frame, her toes poking out from beneath the hem. She glanced in the mirror over the vanity before stepping out of the room.

The plane had landed and shut down by the time she had finished, allowing the crew to gather their belongings and head to the door. Harvey and Parker had already left, and Captain Davies was just leaving, followed by Cooper. Creighton stood talking to Eryn, who was busy batting her fake eyelashes and smiling so sweetly Sandra felt like gagging. She was getting used to women falling over themselves to get his attention, but most of the time she was close by. This time she was in the bathroom, tucked out of sight. What really bothered her was the pleased expression on Creighton’s face. He was more than enjoying the woman’s attention, and that quickly made Sandra’s blood boil. She stood in the doorway for a moment longer than she normally would have, narrowing her eyes when Eryn reached up and laid her long red nailed hand against her husband’s chest.

Instead of joining them and scratching the woman’s eyes out as she was inclined to do, she returned to the bedroom, deliberately slamming the door as hard as she could, knowing it would draw Creighton’s attention. Without a second thought, Sandra pulled the yellow and white dress she had been wearing the past several hours, back across her head, then smoothed it down her slender frame to try and brush the wrinkles out. She lifted the robe from the floor and tossed it across the bed with as much vigor as possible, before turning and walking out the door again.

The crew had left, and Creighton was securing the main hatch when she moved into the lavish living area of the plane. Sandra stepped to the wet bar and pulled out a bottle of wine from underneath, then tried to pop the cork without much success. Long warm fingers reached out and took the bottle from her, easily opening it. She turned her back to her new husband and walked away, knowing he was watching. She went into the small galley kitchen at the opposite end of the plane and began opening the cupboards. Not to her surprise, she found them completely stocked with microwavable dinners, snacks, pancake mix, bread, juices, water, soda, and canned food. The little fridge had fruit, vegetables, and a small bottle of milk, eggs, and sausages. It was obvious the crew was used to cooking well for Creighton and his guests.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, stepping up behind her, causing her to jump. She turned to see him standing behind her, two glasses of wine in his hands.

“No,” she said flatly, taking a glass and walking past him back into the body of the plane.

She sat down at the end of one of the sofas, deliberately stretching her legs out so he was unable to sit beside her. Creighton watched her with a frown, as he reclined on the sofa on the opposite side of the plane. The room was silent as they sipped the wine. It was sweet, but Sandra barely tasted it around the lump in her throat. She was angry at the way he acted with Eryn but more than that she felt betrayed and completely out of her league.

First the plane and now the woman. She had to ask herself if she was up to the long haul as being the wife of a man as handsome and as desirable as he was. A man who made money speak for him and listened to the many women who answered the call.

“Are you going to keep the temperature down, or are you going to talk to me?” he asked, setting his glass on the coffee table.

“What would I possibly have to talk to you about?” she asked in an angry tone, amazed at how bitter her voice sounded.

“I don’t like the way you’ve suddenly turned against me, and I think I should explain...”

“Don’t act all innocent with me,” she interrupted, setting her glass on the table and standing up. “You were flirting with that…that…person. You allowed her to come on to you and to touch you while your wife was in the next room. What the hell was that all about?”

Sandra found her heart pounding as she stood facing him, anger and frustration echoing in her voice and stance.

“I’m sorry, but I can explain,” he said in a calm tone. “Eryn is a tease, she has been since I first hired her, but I don’t shag employees and I would never cheat on you. I made a promise to you yesterday in front of a church full of people and God, that I would be faithful to you alone. You have nothing to worry about.”

“That’s not the point,” she snapped again, her anger burning inside her veins. “You were flirting with her. I saw it and you were enjoying it.”

“Sandra, will you listen to me? You know I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have, and I love you. It was just…”

“I don’t want to listen to anymore,” she interrupted again, turning toward the bedroom door. “I’m going to bed and you can just sleep out here and consider what you’ve done.”

Sandra stomped into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her and fell onto the bed in a fit of tears. She didn’t know what was happening to her. She felt confused and angry and hurt, and right now all she wanted to do was run away.

With tears staining her cheeks, she pulled the blanket up across her shaking frame, wrapping herself inside the warmth of the soft fabric. Frustration and anger accompanied her through the remainder of the night, cradling her in a restless slumber, alone in the bed she should be sharing with her husband. Instead, she laid in the darkness of solitude, sobbing into the pillow, fearful of what the future would bring for her marriage.

Morning arrived much sooner than Sandra would have preferred. She rolled over and looked at the small clock on the table next to the bed, amazed that she was awake at six-thirty in the morning. Her heart was heavy, and she felt ashamed for her behavior and the way she had treated Creighton. She knew there was nothing to worry about. She knew he loved her, and she loved him. It was just very frustrating to see women fawning all over him. It was something she really didn’t want to have to get used to.

With a reluctant sigh, Sandra pushed the covers aside and stood up. She still had on her white and yellow dress from the previous evening and it was badly wrinkled, but that was the least of her worries. On the other side of that bedroom door was either the man she loved or an empty room awaiting her entrance. Either way, she knew she would have to confront the inevitable, and the outcome was entirely her own fault.

Slowly, she pulled the door open and peered out, afraid of what she might find. The room was quiet. The only sounds outside the metal cocoon she was currently encased in were the muffled echoes of a world coming to life. Asleep on the sofa laid her husband. His long legs stretched out beneath the brown throw, his torso bare and his head buried beneath the small pillow. He laid out on his stomach, an empty bottle of wine on the table next to him. The sound of his soft snore reverberated through the stillness, making Sandra’s heartache. She should have been at his side, she should have been in his arms all night, but instead, she had screeched and screamed at him and ran away like a spoiled child.

She sat on the sofa across from him and sighed, forcing the tears back from her swollen eyes. She had to do something to apologize, something to make him understand how horrible she felt. If she were home, she would bake a cake or some cookies, maybe even attempt to make his spotted dicke dessert. If she was in the privacy of his flat, she would put on the leather outfit and boots that drove him crazy. Instead, she was locked inside an expensive private plane with nowhere to go and very little to do. She didn’t even know where her luggage was. Weary and heavy-hearted she began to pace the room, looking at the elegant furnishings around her.

The tables between the loveseats had a small television screen built into the wooden tops, whether they were for watching the news or a movie she couldn’t tell. On the wall beside the table were a number of ports for USB cables and outlets for chargers. The kitchen held very small, almost childlike stainless-steel appliances that she was certain were energy saving. She again opened the cupboards and refrigerator, eying the many items that filled the shelves. She found the eggs and sausages, and after a little additional investigation, she located a small frying pan and a waffle maker. It may not be a quiche, but at least she could make breakfast.

Cooking sausage always made for a delicious aroma, and it didn’t fail to awaken the sleeping man on the sofa. Creighton slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His head seemed thicker than normal; thanks to the amount of wine he had consumed. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, and his movements were sluggish as his stomach flipped with the smells drifting around him.

Sandra was too busy whipping the pancake mix to notice him approach the tables, leaning his hip against one as he watched her. Eggs were cooking on the stovetop and sausages sizzled in the microwave. He couldn’t help but smile. The thought of her playing house was intriguing and erotic, in a weird sort of way, though he wasn’t sure if she was still angry with him or not.

He knew last night was his fault. He instigated the encounter with Eryn, and his face still stung from where she slapped him when he laughed as Sandra slammed her way into the bedroom. He had never used people before, and he wasn’t sure what provoked him into doing it this time. He felt ashamed for putting the girl in the middle of his perverted schemes. He not only had his wife to apologize to, but he had an employee to make amends with, as well. He was not used to having his workers angry with him. The last one who was tried to kill him.

Creighton stepped up behind Sandra and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed the side of her head, causing her heart to skip a beat.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

“Good morning,” she answered in a timid voice.

“Are you still angry with me?”

“I should be asking you that. I’m so sorry, Creighton.” She turned around suddenly, taking him by surprise as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” he answered, hugging her close to his bare chest. “You had a crazy couple of days. A weaker person would never have lasted as long as you did.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. “The whole mess was my fault and I’ll spend an eternity making up for my actions.”

He kissed her deeply, his tongue battling with hers, teasing and tasting until she moaned in his mouth. He felt guilty for letting her take the blame for his actions, but he didn’t want to do anything right now to make matters worse.

The beeping of the microwave brought them back to reality before things began to get out of control, making Sandra sigh reluctantly as he pulled away.

“I thought you didn’t like cooking?” he asked with an amused smile.

“I don’t, but I wanted to do something special for you.”

“Can I help?”

“You can check the waffles,” she suggested and watched as he turned and opened the lid, thankful the little squares were light brown instead of burnt black.

A few seconds later and the microwave beeped again, reminding them there was food in it. He opened the small door to the shiny silver box and pulled out the plate of sizzling sausages.

“The bangers look done,” he said setting the plate on the counter and reaching for a knife to cut them open.

“Why do you call them that?”

The familiar feeling was back, the relaxed sense of togetherness echoed between them.

“Because that’s what they are.”

“No, they are sausages. Bangers sound like something pornographic.”

“How would you know?” he laughed with a wide eye expression.

“I am not completely naive.” Creighton smiled, returning his attention back to the waffles.

“For your information, a sausage is another name for a penis. If you’re going to live in England, you better learn the language.”

“You don’t speak the way your mother does,” Sandra said as she began dishing up the eggs on two separate plates. “I mean, she and your family use a lot of slang words, but you don’t. Why is that?”

“I have dealings with people from many areas of the world. Germans, Italians, Japanese, Americans. If I didn’t understand a generic sense of language, I would never be able to communicate with any of them. What makes sense to me in England, may not have the same meaning in Japan, so I’ve spent a long time trying to curb the slang.”

“From someone who doesn’t quite understand the whole British style of language, I thank you immensely, kind sir.”

“Anything for my queen,” he winked, piling the waffles on a third plate. “Remember, I am obliged to please.”

Sandra took the plates to one of the tables between the brown benches and sat them down, glancing at Creighton who followed with the plate of waffles and the bangers. She gathered together silverware, napkins, and glasses while he took the bottle of milk from the fridge and sat at the table across from her.

“What would you like to do today?” he asked, cutting a waffle on his plate before pouring on the syrup she found in the cupboard.

“Truthfully, I’d like to not do anything,” she said taking a bite of her eggs. “As you said, it’s been a crazy couple of days. It would be nice to just lounge around and watch a little television, or read a book, maybe sunbathe or play some cards. Something that doesn’t involve people, noise, or money.”

“That actually sounds quite nice. I can’t remember the last time I spent a day doing nothing. I do need to stop by my office first though. My R and D department has been working on a new project and I’d like to see how things are going.”

“May I come along?” she asked looking up at him.

“Of course. I was hoping you’d want to. It shouldn’t take long and then we can go back to the flat and relax.”

Sandra smiled across to her husband, feeling slightly giddy.

“As much as I don’t really want to, we should probably start thinking about the house and how you want to furnish it,” he said stuffing a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“Have you given any more thought to what’s going on back home?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I keep running through the timeline of when the bodies could have been buried. Lynette Stone disappeared fifteen years ago, the fall before Bachmeier moved back to Germany. I looked it up on the internet. If the body was her, then she had to have been there more than the ten or twelve years the constable estimates.”

“Do you think Miriam’s father could have had anything to do with it?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I’d like to think not, but some people have a secret life that nobody ever knows about. He may have been having an affair with her and got bored, or afraid when she left her husband, felt cornered, who knows. The problem with that is, he wasn’t an emotional person. Gerrald Bachmeier and his wife Serhilda moved to Yorks about two years before Miriam was born. She died in childbirth and they didn’t have any other kids, so naturally, he was very protective of his daughter. He was very religious too, went to church every Sunday, never smoked and rarely drank, didn’t swear, or run around that anyone knew about. His whole life was work and Miriam. Nobody ever saw him with another woman, never heard him mention having a love interest, nothing.”

“Do you think Andrew will question him?”

“I’m sure he will get in touch with the police in Germany and have him questioned, but without proof or evidence, he’s just a suspect.”

“Have you thought about another avenue?” she asked, unsure how to broach the idea.

“You mean Miriam?” he asked as she nodded. “I’ve thought about it. I can’t imagine her killing anyone any more than I can see her father doing it, but it is a possibility. At least for Lynette Stone, but not the other girl. Twelve years ago, she was in France and I’m pretty sure someone would have noticed her in the area if she had come back. Where she was shagging every bloke in town, she wouldn’t have just slipped in and out again without being seen.”

“What about her cousin? If he has the courage to shoot a man in broad daylight on the streets of London, what would prevent him from killing and trying to hide the bodies?”

“I know he was in England during the summer, but I think he went back to Germany before Lynette disappeared. I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.”

Creighton sighed, pushing his empty plate aside and running his hand through his dark hair. “It could be Harry Stone, it could be a drifter, it could be the man in the moon, I just don’t know.”

“And it’s driving you crazy,” she said. “Mr. Fix-it needs to make everything better and goes crazy when he can’t.”

“Is that what I am now, Mr. Fix-it?”

“Mr. Fix-it, Mr. Perfect, Mr. Nice Butt, you choose.”

“Why Mrs. Ashford, are you telling me you’ve been checking out my butt?”

“As often as I can.”

Sandra smiled when he laughed again. She loved the calm, comfortable atmosphere that had once again embraced them. She gathered their plates together and carried them back into the kitchen where she sat them on the counter. It hadn’t occurred to her how to wash the dirty dishes once they were finished. There was no sign of a sink, no dishwasher, and in fact, no water outside of the bottles in the cupboards.

“Look here,” he told her as though reading her mind yet again.

He lifted the small countertop to reveal a hidden sink, smiling when she looked at it wide-eyed. He fastened a hinge on the end to hold it up and pulled the faucets up from the back. Sandra couldn’t help but giggle. It was like camping, only with all the amenities of home and the ability to fly among the clouds.

They worked together and washed the few dishes they had used and dried them, putting them back in their proper places before walking hand-in-hand to the sofa. Creighton pulled her down to his lap as soon as he sat and began kissing her neck, causing shivers of excitement to travel down her spine.

“I missed you last night,” he whispered. “I don’t like sleeping without you.”

“You could have come in. The door wasn’t locked.”

“You said no,” he answered in a soft sulking tone. “I’ve told you before, you have control over whether or not I make love to you.”

Sandra smiled, glancing at the nearly empty wine bottle on the table.

“It looks like you had company,” she said, reaching for the left-over liquor.

“I didn’t get drunk if that’s what you mean, and it wasn’t the same as having you in my arms.”

“Do you always drink so much? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been drinking just as much lately, but it’s tenfold from what I normally do.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem if that’s what you’re concerned about. I usually have one or two drinks a week at most. I’ll stop completely if it bothers you.”

“I just worry about it. I had a friend in high school that used to have a beer with her boyfriend when they went out, but pretty soon it turned into two, then three, and then she was sneaking out between classes to drink, getting drunk on the weekends, and eventually, she dropped out of school. She’s been in rehab three times since then and divorced twice. I just don’t want to see anything like that happen to you.”

“I’ve only been drunk once in my life and that was when I graduated university.” Creighton began, caressing her outer thigh as they spoke, slowly working his way beneath the hem of her dress. “Andrew, Derek, and Dad took me to a pub to help me celebrate. I guess I got pretty bad because when I woke up the next day, I was in my parents’ barn with a black eye, a broken nose and the worse headache I’ve ever had. It seems I got a little out of hand and tried to pick a fight with some bloke, and my dad had to step in. Instead of beating on the guy at the bar, I turned on my dad. Not a wise thing to do, when your father is twice your size, and you’re so damn drunk you can’t walk without falling down.”

“I’m not asking you to stop completely, just slow down, alright? Especially when we start a family. I really don’t want our kids having free reign of the liquor cabinet.”

“Agreed,” he smiled, his hand reaching her bottom. He narrowed his eyes, pulling the skirt of her dress up to reveal the lack of underwear. “Are you going to make this a habit?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“I’m beginning to like the au natural feeling.” She couldn’t help but blush with the lustful look he gave her.

“You’re deliberately trying to drive me mental, aren’t you? The thought of you without knickers will haunt me every moment of the day.”

“Shall I begin wearing them again, then?”

“No, no, I’m not saying that, but you’ll have to indulge me staring, and feeling, and wanting to love you every chance I get.”

“You already want to love me every chance you get. You have a bad habit of not being able to keep your hands to yourself.”

“Are you complaining?” he asked, laying her back so she was stretched out beneath him on the sofa.

“Not really. I like feeling cherished by you.”

“That you are my love. Very cherished.”

Creighton moved her dress up to her waist, so he had full access to her lower regions, his hand traveling to his initials, and like always, carefully tracing them with his finger.

“Rochelle gave us a wedding present,” he told her, glancing up into her eyes before leaning down to kiss her exposed cleavage.

“Dare I ask?”

“Remember the table I liked so well?” Her eyes widened as she remembered the table she had been restrained on while having her unmentionables waxed. “She is having it delivered to the flat in Chelsea. I thought it would be better there than where my parents’ may see it.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

She felt numb, thinking about a table like that sitting in their living room where anyone could see it.

“I already thanked her, and I plan on making very good use of it once we return.”

“You wouldn’t dare?” she huffed, then instantly remembered who she was speaking to.

“Not only do I dare, but I will. I have many plans for that table, and I promise you won’t be objecting for long.”

Creighton put a halt to her unspoken scolding with the pressure of his lips against hers, his tongue coaxing and teasing a moan from her, smiling when she relaxed beneath him.

“I have wanted to initiate this sofa since I bought the plane,” he whispered, his lips traveling to her neck. “I’ve had dreams of bringing you here and making love to you until you were breathless.”

“Dreams have a habit of coming true for you, don’t they?”

“For both of us, darling,” he corrected, as he moved down her body, kissing a hot path over her chest, across her fabric-covered breasts to her stomach where he pushed the dress up further. He played with her navel, caressing and licking her belly button until she relented beneath him, her back arching slightly from the cushions.

Creighton rested a large arm across her stomach, holding her down as his lips and tongue continued to burn a path downward, causing her veins to feel as though they were flowing with molten lava. When at last he reached his destination, she nearly cried out, fighting the orgasm that threatened to overtake her. She knew she could do it; he had taught her how. and now she was happy that he had. His tongue played and traced the swollen bud of her clitoris, causing her to moan deeply.

The seconds ticked by until at last the moaning grew urgent, and then she growled when she lost control and allowed the flood gates to burst open. He smiled as his fingers easily slipped into her hot moist vagina, allowing her to ride out her release for a few breathtaking moments before he leaned up over her and thrust into her deep and hard.

Sandra had no idea when he had undressed, and frankly, she didn’t care, as he slipped his hands around her hips and lifted her up, holding her tightly against him. The contact was deep, and she began feeling the insanity of passion encompass her again. With each hard thrust, the dizzy sensation grew stronger, taking her along the path of urgency as he continued to fill her with the length and width of his erection. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around him tighter, surrendering to his demands as the lustful cravings overtook her and she called out his name in a savage growl that equaled his. The heat of his release bathed her with a yearning only he could produce, leaving them both breathless.

Several long, hot moments passed by before they collapsed against each other panting. The feeling of his erratic pulse thrummed against her breast. Regardless of what argument or disagreement they may have, this was the one thing they both agreed on. Love, passion, and orgasm shared and exchanged like timeless lovers, breaking the bonds of space and age to bring them together. They laid in each other’s arms, the emotion that embraced them was genuine and Sandra smiled. This was where she wanted to be. In his arms forever and eternity.

Several hours later, after they had taken a shower and changed, Sandra found herself sitting on the sofa, Miriam’s book perched on her lap as Creighton sat next to her trying to catch up on some long-neglected work on his laptop. Harvey had called earlier and said he would be there at two o’clock, which left a little less than an hour to relax before life had a chance to catch up to them. The soft sounds of famous Broadway love songs played over the plane’s stereo system, and she found herself actually dozing between pages. It wasn’t until Creighton shut the top of his computer that she woke up, staring at him through foggy eyes.

He wasn’t happy. She could see it as well as feel it when he stood up and walked to the kitchen. He retrieved a bottle of soda from the cupboard and unscrewed the top. Sandra watched him place the plastic bottle to his lips and began drinking from it. He set it on the counter with a little more vigor than even he had intended, causing it to foam up out of the top. He glanced over to see her watching him and sighed, running his hand through his dark hair.

“Andrew emailed me,” he told her, answering her unspoken question as he wiped up the sticky soda with the rag, they used to wash the dishes. “There have been a few developments at the house.”

Creighton took the bottle and walked back to the sofa, handing it to her. Sandra didn’t want the drink but reached up out of instinct and took it as he sat down next to her.

“Old man Bachmeier is dead,” he said quietly. “Apparently, he was more ill than Miriam let on. He died yesterday from pancreatic cancer.”

“What does that mean for the investigation?” she asked, handing him back his soda.

“The police are going to question Miriam, but right now she’s doing a book tour in America. It will be another week or more before she’s back in France.” He leaned his head against the back cushions and sighed again. “There’s more,” he said.

She watched him rub a large hand across his eyes before he raised his head and swallowed another drink from the bottle.

“The cadaver dogs located four more bodies. All-female, and all appearing to have been buried around the same time as the first two.”

Sandra’s eyes widened with disbelief as she tried to process what he had just said. She was certain her heart skipped a beat, and then stopped, as his words began to make themselves at home in her sleepy mind.

“I…what…” she stuttered, unsure exactly what to say or how to coordinate her thoughts and words on the same page.

“My sentiments exactly,” he said with a deep breath.

“What do we do now?”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she reached for his drink, feeling like a rock had settled in her throat.

“We try to forget about all of this and get on with our own plans. We have to trust Andrew and hope he has some answers by the time we get back.”

“Can you really do that?” she asked, feeling slightly braver than she had a few seconds ago.

Creighton smiled as he turned and glanced sideways to her, but once again, it didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes. He was worried and frustrated, and it showed.

“I will try, but it will be up to you to help keep my mind off things.” Sandra blushed and looked down at the bottle.

“Maybe I should make use of that black outfit you like so much.”

“That would definitely keep my mind off everything else,” he laughed as his phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket and pressed the button and listened in silence for a moment.

“Harvey is here,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket and standing up, reaching a hand down to her. She set the bottle on the table and slipped her hand in his as she stood off the sofa.

“Are we still going to your office?” she asked, watching as he gathered his computer together and returned it to the brown carrier.

“I really want to check out the new project my researchers are working on. If it works the way they’re promising, it will mean a huge difference in child abductions.”

“How?” she asked as they stepped to the door and he unbolted the latch.

“We’re developing a tracking device that can be inserted into a car seat, a pram, a favorite toy, even a blanket or bottle. Once the bugs have been worked out, it could mean a huge difference in locating stolen children.”

“You are a very unique man, Creighton Ashford,” she smiled, stepping down the steps of the plane toward the waiting car. “I only hope I can live up to the role of wife to the man who saves the world.”