Flight to Paradise

Immersion Playground

Book #3: Flight to Paradise

Chapter 8

Mac's eyes flutter open and he looks around the slowly brightening room, the room's window slowly growing clear to allow in more light. He yawns, wanting to stretch, but not wanting to disturb Kate lying close beside him. When he'd gone to sleep last night she'd still been lying on his chest, but now she's on his left side, tucked in tight, an arm and leg still thrown over him.

Unable to stand it anymore he stretches, trying to move as little as possible, but she feels the movement in her sleep, muttering a barely understandable, "No..." before snuggling in closer.

While he would willingly spend the next several hours in bed with her, right now he has to urinate. He carefully slips out from under her arm and leg, Kate waking enough to try to hold him in the bed before letting him go. He picks up his leg, taking a moment to prepare himself before making the connection. He jams his leg into the socket, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth against the pain.

When he exits the bathroom, she's already back asleep. He briefly considers crawling into bed and waking her up, but decides what he

needs

to do is workout, a chore he neglected several times while in LA. He quietly dresses in one of his workout uniforms, gym shorts and a loose t-shirt, and pads down the hall to his workout room. He spends an hour on the resistance machine then spends another thirty minutes on the cardio machine. Normally he alternates, doing resistance one day for strength and muscle tone, the cardio for endurance the next, but his new leg feels so damn good he just has to try it out on the elliptical.

After his workout he enters his room hot, tired, bathed in sweat, and feeling wonderful, his new leg identical in every measurable way to his own. He looks at the neatly made bed in disappointment. Had Kate still been there he'd have tried to coax her into joining him for another workout. Not finding her in his bathroom, he crosses the hall to the guest room. The door is open, so he enters.

"Kate?" he quietly calls.

"In here," her voice answers from the bathroom.

He stops in the bathroom doorway, watching her brush her hair, already bathed and dressed. "I thought you wanted breakfast in bed," he says leaning against the jamb.

"You weren't there," she says with a smile, the brush never slowing.

"I'm here now."

"Yes, but now I'm presentable..." the brush stops moving as she looks him over, "... and you most assuredly, are not."

He laughs, standing up. "Okay. Fine. Let me see if I can fix that. We'll go have brunch, somewhere, and stop by the market on the way back so I can feed you properly tonight. Then we can go swimming if you like. I want to try out the new leg in the water."

"Swimming in the lake?" she asks, trying to remember if she's ever been swimming in a lake.

"Nowhere but."

"I didn't bring my suit—"

"Perfect!" he interrupts.

"—and I'm not going skinny dipping."

He pooches out his bottom lip in a comical pout. "Well, damn. Fine. After brunch, swimsuit, then the market, then swimming."

"Mac, I already have two or three suits at home. I don't need another one."

"Yes, but I'm buying this one, and it can stay here for when you need it," he says, closely watching her reaction.

She recognizes that he's testing her, trying to see if she's going to react the same way she did at the dress shop, but her demons are quiet this morning. "I can buy it myself, Mac. You don't have to do that."

"I know, Kate, but if I pay for it, don't I get a little say in what it looks like?"

She smiles at him. "Okay. If you pay for it, you can have a

little

say in what it looks like. Are you sure you want to pay for it? What if I don't come back?"

His smile slowly fades. "If that's the case, I think that spending a few bucks on a swimsuit that won't be used again will be the least of my disappointment."

She watches his smile fade. He really did look like he would be disappointed if she didn't come back. She offers him a sweet little smile. "Well, I wouldn't want you to be disappointed. Now go get cleaned up. We have a lot to do today and we're not getting it done with you standing in here bothering me while I get ready."

His smile returns, but not with the same enthusiasm as before. "Okay. Give me twenty minutes and I'll be ready to go."

He turns to go, but stops and turns back, leaning down to give her noisy smooch on the lips, holding his sweaty body away from hers. "I'm glad you don't want to disappoint me," he says before leaving to shower and dress.

She watches him go, then resumes brushing her hair.

No, I really don't want to disappoint him, or myself, by not coming back.

***

As he slips on his boxers after his shower, he notices that the bottom is dangerously close to the mounting band of his leg. Examining the length in a mirror, he recalls Abby's warning that the leg would automatically adjust its color to match the skin tone just above it. He didn't have to worry about that with his old leg as he used a series of stains as needed to lighten or darken the artificial skin so it matched his other leg, but this new leg would do that automatically. On impulse, he removes his boxers and tries on his swimsuit. The bottom of the right leg is above the mount band, but just. Smoothing the fabric, he thinks a moment and then decides they'd be buying two suits today, one for Kate and one for himself.

Clean and dressed, he finds Kate in the main room staring out at the lake. "Some view, isn't it? I never get tired of looking at it," he says, stepping in close behind her.

She starts slightly at his words before turning to face him. "It is lovely. I wouldn't get anything done if I had that view to look at all the time." She looks him over, neatly turned out in long pants and a light shirt. "Don't you ever wear shorts?"

"No. Why?"

"Because this is California. Everyone wears short," she says motioning to her own attire.

"I don't think I have any shorts."

"You don't have

any

shorts?

None?

Well, you will after today."

"Oh, I will, will I?" he asks with a brief chuckle.

"We're going shopping for a swimsuit today, remember?"

"I remember. It's just as well. I tried on my suit. It's too long. I need a new one."

"Too long?"

"Yeah. The new leg adjusts its color to the skin above it. My swimsuit hangs too low and covers the mount," he says, rubbing his leg with the side of his hand at the height of the mount band so she can see. "I don't want the artificial leg to be pasty white when the other one is tanned because my swimsuit covers the skin there."

"Oh, I get it," she says. So, Mac needs a small, tight swimsuit? She'll be delighted to help him pick that out, but the shorts are going to be a problem. He would look silly in shorts that short. "That presents a problem for the shorts, so I guess you're off the hook there."

"Good. I'd look silly in shorts."

"No, you'd look damn sexy in shorts. Unless one leg is white and the other is brown, then you'd look silly in shorts."

He chuckles as he takes her arm and gently steers her toward the garage. "I'm glad we agree." As they enter the garage, he raises the doors behind the Mercedes and the Ford. "Which vehicle do you want to take?"

She doesn't care, a car is a car. "It doesn't matter. Whichever you prefer, but what's that, under there?" she asks, nodding at the cloth covered car she noticed yesterday.

He steps to the shape and begins pulling the cover off an old car. "This was my grandfather's car." The car is perfect, mint in every detail.

"What's it?" she asks. She doesn't know anything about cars, but she recognizes that this is one is stunning.

"It's a 1999 BMW M5 in the original Oxford Green." He pauses, admiring the car once again. "This car used to be the most beautiful thing in the garage," he says, looking away from the car to stare at her.

She pulls her attention away from the car to look at him, not understanding what he's inferring, until she sees the way he's looking at her. She begins to blush at the compliment. She gets many compliments on her appearance, and has long stopped blushing when she receives one, but for some reason, his complement means more to her than most.

"It's a beautiful car. Why can't they make cars that look like this anymore?"

"Because back then they were styled by master craftsmen with love. Now they're all styled by computer."

She sighs, moving to the Ford, the closer of the two cars. "I guess this is fine," she says opening the passenger door.

"Oh, hell no! You made me uncover it. It's the rule. If I uncover it, I have to drive it," he says wadding up the cover and tossing it in a basket on the floor, obviously placed there for that purpose.

Kate hesitates, one foot in the SUV. "Do you mind?" she asks, stepping out and closing the door.

"I'd only mind if you won't go in it now that I have it uncovered," Mac says walking to a key peg by the door and lifting off a set of keys while at the same time lowering the garage door and raising the door behind the BMW.

"Let me see if it'll start. I haven't had it out in a long time." He sits in the car, one leg still on the garage floor and gives the key a twist. The car turns over slowly, the battery obviously weak, but after a couple of turns the V8 rumbles to life. "You have to love German engineering," he says with a smile. "Car hasn't been started in almost a year and yet it starts right up. Good thing you came. Another few months and the battery would have been dead." He offers her a smile. "You know what this means don't you?"

"What?"

"It means we're going to have to take the long way to town so the battery can charge." He leaves the car running and steps out and opens the passenger door for her. "You coming, or do I have to go by myself?" he asks peering at her over the top of the car.

She beams and hurries to the car and slides in, the creamy leather feeling delicious on the back of her legs.

He walks back around to the driver's side and squeezes in. The car, while not small, is a little snug for him. He slips the car into reverse and, blipping the throttle just to hear the V8 bark and growl, eases the car out of the garage.

"What's that?" she asks pointing to a stalk between the seats.

"What? This?" he asks giving the stalk a little wiggle.

"Yeah. I've never seen a car with one of those."

He turns the car around and creeps it down the driveway long curving driveway. "It's the gear lever. You've never seen a car with a stick shift before?"

"I guess not. What's it do, besides select forward and reverse?"

He pulls onto the road and stops. "This!"

He floors the throttle and dumps the clutch, causing the car to leap forward, the car crabbing sideways like a scared cat as the rear tires claw for grip on the slightly damp pavement. The minute the car hits the redline, he bangs the car into second, the rear tires once again howling in protest as the engine's power overcomes the grip, the V8 roaring its fury.

She begins to shriek in terror when he mats the throttle and the car tries to go sideways, the shriek turning to a squeal of delight as the scrabbling tires find grip and the car begins to rocket down the road, squeezing her back in her seat. He snicks the car into third, the BMW finding its legs now, pulling hard as the approaching corner draws closer with frightening speed. She plants both feet against the floor, willing the car to slow, but he keeps the power on, the car's acceleration still pressing her hard into her seat. Just as she closes her eyes, preparing to meet her death when the car careens off the corner, she feels herself being thrown forward, a small grunt escaping her as the seat belt bites into her, holding her in place.

He knows this section of road like he knows his own face. Despite her squeals he keeps the power on, giving the car its head as he bears down on the first corner. Because the road is a bit damp, and he didn't want to scare her too much, he jumps on the brakes just as the car nudges eighty, quickly bleeding off speed before entering the turn at a comfortable forty miles-per-hour.

"You asshole! You scared the shit out of me!" Kate cries as the car enters the turn, but her smile says something different.

"If you made a stain in my seat you are going to have to clean it up," he says with a grin, looking at her as the car exits the corner. "Be honest. You liked it didn't you?"

"Okay. I did like it. A little," she says, her smile growing wider.

"A little?" Mac asks in mock surprise. "I haven't heard you squeal like that since, well, last night actually," he says with twinkle in his eye and a sarcastic grin.

She looks away giggling after giving him a playful slap on the shoulder. "I didn't like it

that

well. There's being taken for a ride, then there's being taken for a

ride!"

He makes so many twists and turns as he works his way from the lake, she finally has to consult the net for a map to tell where she is. The area surrounding the lake is mostly parks and recreation areas with only a few homes scattered in clusters here and there, and Kate is surprised when they arrive in Paradise, seemingly in the middle of nowheresville one moment, and in town the next. Mac turns the car onto a major thoroughfare before pulling off into a small outdoor mall of upscale shops, parking the car away from most of the other cars.

"You ready to shop?" he asks opening his door and unfolding from the car.

"Mac, honey, I was

born

to shop," she teases.

As they wander along the shops, he surprises her by tugging her into a shop selling sunglasses and other outdoor supplies. Stopping her in front of the sunglass counter he slips several teardrop shaped sunglasses on her, trying them on for size.

"What do you think?" he asks while holding a mirror up in front of her.

"They're fine, but why do I need another pair of sunglasses?"

"If you're going to be a pilot, you have to look the part," he says simply, slipping the glasses from her face and handing her pair back to her. He hands the glasses to the clerk that's assisting them, and she nearly has a heart attack at the price of the glasses. Her sunglasses cost almost two-hundred dollars, but these are more than twice that amount.

"Why are they so expensive?" she hisses as he completes the transaction.

"Quality costs money. These glasses are made like mine, with memory metal. You can tie them in a knot, then warm them up, and they will pop right back into shape. Plus, the lenses are made of some kind of material that you can't scratch, break or smudge. Basically, they're the last pair of sunglasses you'll ever have to buy." He takes the glasses and case from the clerk and hands them to her. "Not to mention they make you look sexy as hell," he whispers as they walk out of the store.

"Oh really?" she purrs, removing her sunglasses and replacing them with the new pair. "What do you think?" she asks, looking at him.

"I think pilot chicks are hot," he says with a wink, causing her to trill out a throaty laugh, his comment making her feel powerful and sexy.

Rounding a corner, she sees a casual clothing store for women. She pulls him into the store where she spends the next fifteen minutes selecting three different bikini style bathing suits to try on, ranging in size from average to nearly nonexistent. She slips into a changing area and emerges in the middle size suit, a splashy orange and white number that doesn't leave much to the imagination.

"So? What do you think?"

"Nice," he says appreciatively. "Very nice indeed."

"Hang on. I have a couple more to try." She returns to the changing booth and changes into the most conservative of the three suits, though no one would call any of them anything other than revealing.

He watches her steps out of the booth in a black bikini that, while covering more of her than the first, left the rest of her exposed in a most appealing way. "Wow! I like that one too," he says enthusiastically.

She says nothing, grinning at him, before returning to the changing booth where she tries on the most revealing of the three. She has no intention of buying this one, but she wanted to see his reaction. Feeling a little too close to nude, she steps out of the booth.

He watches her exit the booth in nearly nothing. While the suit did have a certain appeal, it reveals too much, leaving too little for the imagination, for his taste. "That one is okay too, but I like either of the other two better than that one."

"Do you really now?" she asks in surprise. "I picked this one just for you."

"If that's the one you want."

"Well, I did say you had some input into which one to get. Which one did you prefer?" Kate asks.

"Either of the other two is fine."

"Uh-uh. You have to pick."

"Okay, the black one. I liked that one best."

"You like the one that covers me the most?" she asks with a small smile.

He takes three slow steps to her, bending down to whisper in her ear. "It makes the undressing all the more fun."

She wiggles as a chill passes through her from his words. "Well! In that case, the black one it is." He smiles, holding out his hand. "What?" she asks in confusion.

"Hand it out when you get back in there and I'll go pay for it."

"I can pay for it, Mac."

"I know you can, but it's my treat."

She looks into his eyes for a moment. "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says with a smile.

She disappears into the booth, the door opening a crack before a hand appears holding the swimsuit. While she changes into her street clothes he pays for the suit.

"Your girlfriend, she's beautiful," gushes the young clerk as she folds and drops the suit into a small bag.

He smiles. "Yes, she is. Very beautiful." He takes the bag and is turning from the counter when she steps from the changing booth.

"Can we eat?" she asks. "I'm starving."

They turn left out of the shop and walk until she spots a mall directory. There aren't many choices, but after some discussion, they settle on

The Italian Bistro.

He isn't expecting much, but as they approach the establishment, he begins to revise his opinion. The restaurant has a half-dozen tables outside in a fenced off area, each table covered by a jaunty umbrella in the green, white, and red of the Italian flag, and a white tablecloth. The exterior wall is made from stucco and looks very old and worn, though Mac knows it had to be less than five years old because the mall has only been here that long. Inside the old-world decor continues with tile floors, wooden tables, and real linen tablecloths and napkins.

It's a bit early for the lunch rush, so he asks to sit outside to enjoy the weather. The menu is limited to simple fare, in true bistro style, but he's beginning to get an inkling this place may be a hidden gem. They discuss their choices, with Mac selecting the calzone and Kate the lunch, two slice, pizza deal, topped with bacon.

While they wait for their food, he leans in closer to her. "Kate, may I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Last week, in the dress shop, can you tell me what that was all about?"

She sits back in her chair with a sigh. "My mother."

"Your mother?" he blinks.

"Yeah, my mother. You see, dear ol' mom doesn't approve of me. She thinks I'm a loose woman, kept by men for their sexual dalliances. I was brought up in a strict Christian household where anything fun had to be a sin and was discouraged. And

sex?

Forget it. Sex was for one purpose, and one purpose alone. Procreation. If you enjoyed it, you were little more than a whore. I've moved past that. If there's a God I find it hard to believe that he would make anything so pleasurable between a man and a woman a sin, but every now and again, mom still bites me in the ass. I'm sorry you had to be there when she did."