Quiet Angel by Prescott Lane Page A

name if she wasn’t married. He tried to steady his heart, remembering her in sundresses and now seeing her in a simple black dress. She still looks like an Angel. It was crazy to see her again, though he’d wanted to for years. He had so many questions—like whether she still had dimples and, more importantly, what the hell happened. As good as she still looked, a part of him wanted to yell and demand answers.
    “How about you?” she asked. “Married? Kids?”
    “No.” He looked back at the clerk, her fingers moving at the speed of light. “What do we have available for Miss Layla Tanner?”
    “Nothing in coach,” the clerk said hesitantly.
    “Then put her in first class,” Gage instructed. “Charge it as a company expense.”
    “Yes, Mr. Montgomery,” the clerk said quickly.
    “Gage, I can’t let you do that.”
    “You’d rather hang out in Houston another night?”
    His question snapped her back to reality. “Charge it,” Layla told the clerk, who nodded and printed a new boarding pass. Layla turned to Gage and thanked him.
    “Not at all,” he said and took the pass from the clerk. “I should be thanking you. You’ll be keeping me company on the flight.”
    Layla’s eyes bulged. “Wait, what?”
    *
    Gage peeked into the cockpit with Layla by his side. “G-man!” the pilot cried, gripping his friend with a firm handshake.
    “Dash, this is Layla,” Gage said, placing a hand on the small of her back.
    Layla trembled at his touch but managed a smile for the pilot, taking in his piercing brown eyes and long lashes. The man looked like he could be Denzel Washington’s son. Are all pilots hot?
    Dash looked Gage and Layla up and down. “No mile high club on my aircraft, OK?”
    Layla turned a bright red, as Gage punched his friend in the shoulder. “You have to ignore him,” he said, leading Layla to their seats. “That’s why his call sign is Dash.”
    “Not because he’s fast?” she wondered and took the window seat.
    Gage chuckled and placed her bag in the overhead compartment. “It stands for Dumb As Shit.”
    “And you let him fly your planes?”
    “It’s the one thing he’s good at. I can’t take that away from him.” Gage took a seat beside her. “Dash got so drunk one time at a party that he threw up on a captain’s shoes.”
    “He’s not drinking today, I hope?”
    “Of course not.”
    She pulled down the window shade and buckled up. “Were you in Houston on business?”
    “The Houston-Savannah flights have been running late,” he said, rolling up his sleeves and undoing a button on his shirt. “I wanted to check it out, to see how we can improve things.”
    “Maybe Dash is to blame?”
    “Too busy cracking jokes with the passengers.”
    “Or maybe the helpful clerk with the dagger in her hair?”
    Gage sighed. “Sorry about that.”
    “It wasn’t a big deal—at least not anymore,” she said. “Don’t you have people to check out the flights for you?”
    “Yes, I have people ,” he said with a laugh, “a whole team of executives around the country, and they have their own personnel teams, too. But I don’t want to lose touch with the hassles our customers have to put up with. And I really don’t mind doing this particular run. My mom, sister, and her kids live in Savannah, so I’m there most weekends anyway. Nice change from running the company in Atlanta.”
    A flight attendant came over, as the plane started to taxi. “Can I get you anything pre-flight?” she asked.
    Gage saw Layla gripping the armrest. “I forgot you hate to fly.”
    “Just the take-off,” Layla said hopefully. “I’ll be fine.”
    Gage turned to the attendant. “Can you bring one of those kits for uneasy flyers?”
    “Yes, sir. Right away.”
    Layla turned to him. “There’s a kit for people afraid to fly?”
    “There is on my airline.”
    She relaxed her grip a little. “What’s in it?”
    “Chewing gum, earbuds, ginger tablets for nausea.”
    “You still like to