True Lies Read Online Free PDF Page B

have had a terrible time during his childhood. “I chart my course before I fly, and I can calculate my position by dead reckoning or by simply looking out the window.”
    “Have you ever flown at night?”
    She bit into her apple again and nodded. “Not much, and not for long. It’s too risky.”
    “But theoretically, you could do it?”
    “Sure. In an emergency, I suppose any pilot could, as long as the weather was clear.”
    “You seem to enjoy flying. How long have you been a pilot?”
    “Since I was old enough to drive.” Stretching her legs in front of her, she crossed her ankles on the gunnel and nibbled at her apple. She couldn’t prevent the smile as she remembered the wonder of her first time at the controls of an aircraft. “My first lesson was in an old Piper Cub that must have been held together with chewing gum and baling wire. It was the scariest and most exhilarating experience of my life. And I knew then and there that I would do anything to get the chance to fly solo. The feeling of total freedom that you get when you're in the air is like nothing else. For that brief time you leave all your problems on the ground and escape into a world where nothing matters but the sound of the wind and the feel of the rudder pedals beneath your feet and the stick in your hands—” She broke off, realizing that Bruce was looking at her oddly. “Sorry. Don’t ever ask a pilot about flying.”
    “Not that it’s my business, but why haven’t you gone for your professional license? You could make more money if you could charge a higher fee. If you advertised in some of the tourist magazines you could get a nice little business going here.”
    “The money’s not important. And I've got other obligations.”
    “Oh. Sorry. I guess I'm always thinking like an accountant. I’d never dream of doing anything as risky as flying a plane,” he murmured.
    What could she say to that? In a way he reminded her of her brother, not that they resembled each other physically, but Bruce and Simon both seemed to suffer from a lack of self-confidence. She assessed the way Bruce sat, with his shoulders hunched awkwardly and his hands clasped loosely between his legs. His posture was the picture of dejection. She should be feeling sorry for him. But that was another way in which Bruce differed from Simon. As far as this timid accountant was concerned, her feelings weren’t exactly sisterly.
    She bit down hard on her apple. She had done this fishing routine with plenty of other men, but the seventeen foot aluminum canoe had never seemed so small before. Even with his face essentially concealed and the bulky red life jacket swelled around his body, she still felt that odd awareness of his presence. “How long have you been an accountant, Bruce?”
    “I've been working at the same job since I finished college.”
    “Do you like your work?”
    “Oh, yes.” He hesitated. “It’s all I do. I keep myself very busy with my job. Most of the time it’s interesting and challenging, but lately I've been starting to wonder whether I'm letting myself become too personally involved.”
    “You're a workaholic, right?”
    “That about sums it up.” He laughed and self-consciously tugged at the brim of his cap. “Sorry. Accountant humor.”
    Emma was intrigued at the glimpse of wit. She felt as if a chink had opened in the bland facade he was projecting. “Did you bring your camera with you today?”
    “Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s in my pack.”
    “You know, just because you hired me and my plane to bring you fishing, doesn’t mean you have to fish. There are some nice scenes to photograph around here, and in this sunlight the colors should be spectacular.”
    “Hey, that’s a great idea!” he exclaimed, quickly leaning forward. Unfortunately, his hand caught the edge of the thermos of coffee that she’d brought, knocking it heavily against the side of the canoe. Glass crunched as the interior liner shattered with the impact.