Charades Read Online Free Page B

holding her hand? Studying his hand, she could see the strength in it. It appealed to a hitherto hidden, unknown, feminine part of her.
         “This is like the first date, nicht wahr ?” Wulf asked, interrupting her thoughts. Playfully he shook her hand, reminding her of an overgrown, St. Bernard puppy.
         “Is this the first time you’ve ever been in Dallas?” she asked. Should she tell him he was holding her hand too long?
         “No, I am in Dallas last year when I planned this venture.”
         “That’s nice.” She gently slipped her hand out of his.
         “Okay then,” she said. “So, we met last year. That just about covers time for us to have fallen in love and gotten engaged. Love at first sight?” That was safe to assume. Any normal woman would be immediately attracted to him.
         “Love at first sight,” Wulf repeated, as though testing the thought. “I like that.” He nodded and his smile wrapped her in a warm blanket of approval.
         “Would you prefer we speak in German?”
         “No. I must practice my English. You will help me?”
         “Of course,” she promised. The glow of his smile knocked her stomach for a loop. She swallowed hard.
         The private plane area of the airport reminded Mercy of a Hollywood movie set. Once through the gated entrance, she saw nothing but men doing manly things—running the gasoline trucks, working on planes, or just standing by planes talking and joking with one another. Inside, men were behind the counter, all of them talking about airplanes or flying. Although the masculine territory gave her a shiver of discomfort, she managed to hide it. She was good at hiding things.
         Wulf pulled his car up to a beige-colored plane with red and blue stripes. After helping him stow their luggage and golf clubs in the back of the plane, she watched with fascination as he did his pre-flight check. He explained everything as he went, taking measurements of fluids, checking the prop for nicks, draining some gas, even inspecting the tires for wear before removing the blocks.
         He has to be an excellent pilot, she reassured herself. He’s so meticulous. She, on the other hand, was a study in contrasts. Great education, no practical life experience.
         Fifteen minutes after filing his flight plan they were in the plane and he rapidly went through another pre-flight checklist. After getting clearance from ground control, they taxied out toward the runway. Wulf gave her a set of earphones to wear while they waited for their turn to take off.
         With rapt concentration, Mercy listened to the conversations between the pilots and ground control as they flowed back and forth. She watched spellbound as Wulf scribbled down instructions on a little note pad strapped to his knee. The concentration contrasted vividly with the image she had from the day before. Where was the same hapless man of yesterday? Apparently not in the pilot’s seat.
         She was so riveted on what he did she forgot about her anxiety. She got the thrill of her life when he pushed the throttle forward and they zoomed down the runway quickly gaining speed until they lifted off and began to climb into the air. It was exhilarating, beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. Plain, mousy Mercy was having an adventure!
         Wulf maneuvered the plane with ease and soon she observed a larger plane, now far beneath them. Her heart skipped a beat, but Wulf stayed calm, speaking into his headset. He spoke a different language up here: vectors and flight paths, altitude and directions.
         Was it the novelty of doing something she’d never done before which captivated her so? Had she cut herself off from living so much that her fears owned her?
         Leveling off at ten thousand feet, Wulf turned to her. “Would you like to take the yoke?” He gestured to the funny shaped steering wheel of the plane.
         “Me? Oh, no!” she