“What’s happening?” she whispered.

“We’re going down, Miss West.”

He said it so calmly. Too calmly. He’d spoken more evenly than her date had last weekend when he’d informed her that his manager hadn’t been able to get a table at Blanca, so they’d have to settle for Minetta Tavern instead.
Their seats bounced as if they were riding on an ATV over rough terrain, and Rebecca’s body began a corresponding shake. It started deep in her stomach and spread through her body until she had to clench her teeth in order to keep them from chattering. She gripped the door handle as a strong gust of wind rocked the plane.

Heavy mist obscured visibility, then thinned, the ocean below appearing briefly before the jet plunged into another heavy gray cloud.

Watching what was going on outside the airplane freaked her out, so she watched Ty instead. His expression was tight, but there was no panic in it. His hands moved with surety, making adjustments. His gaze lingered on one of the instruments. She knew that one, at least—it was the radar and GPS.

“Is . . . are those islands?” she asked, referring to the yellow-orange blobs on the screen.

“Yeah.”

“Sugar Cay?”

His head moved in a short nod.

Oh, thank God.

“We’re not going to make it to the landing strip,” he said. After a moment, he added in a modulated tone, “I’m bringing her down in the water.”

She froze.

“Are you buckled in tight?” he asked her. His eyes swept over her briefly before returning to the instruments.

“Uh . . .” She fumbled with the seat belt. “I . . . uh . . .” Her fingers felt fat and clumsy. She couldn’t fold them around the straps to tighten them. She also seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was calm and low. “Remember that commercial plane that landed safely on the Hudson a few years ago? Everyone was fine. That’s what we’re going to do. So sit tight. It’s going to be okay.”

The miracle on the Hudson, she thought, remembering that incredible story. But that was a miracle. And that plane had landed on a river, not on the Caribbean Sea in the middle of a storm.

The plane pitched to the right with a wild lurch. They broke through the clouds. Rain smacked at the windshield, rendering the outside world out of focus. She was surprised the glass didn’t crack.

The ocean, gray and turbulent, rushed up toward them. As if it wanted to devour them. They were so close to it…

It was too much. Overwhelming. Panic threatened to strangle her. She couldn’t watch. Her eyes slammed shut. But that still wasn’t enough. Her other senses made up for the lack of sight, telling her exactly what was happening. The engines were silent, and now, thumps and rattles punctuated the wind whistling past as the jet shuddered and complained.

He was right. They were going down, fast. This airplane was going to crash.

“Damn it,” Tyler muttered. He grunted as he wrestled with the controls. The plane swooped upward, and something that sounded like a high-pitched alarm clock started to squeal.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

“Brace for impact!” The command was harsh, and her body went rigid, following his command instantly.

They hit the water with a slam that rattled every bone in her body. Breath whooshed from her lungs. Metal screeched, water rushed, and the plane seemed to flip around her as the seat belt cut into her lap and squeezed her chest. The turmoil went on and on. She was tumbling and twisting. Seawater rushed over her legs, pain shot through her chest, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d drawn a breath.

And then everything went still. Dead still.

Rebecca pulled in a gasping lungful of air and opened her eyes, looking around her in confusion. The light was dim, and her eyes couldn’t make sense of anything. It was loud—the sound of rushing water, she realized.
Water was filling the cabin quickly—it was already up to her knees. Acute pain spread through her chest. She must have banged it against the copilot’s controls.

And then gentle hands were on her, undoing her seat belt. “Ty?” she said in a croaking whisper.

“Come on,” he said. She turned to him in amazement, because he still sounded perfectly calm. “Let’s get out of here.”

He helped her out of the cockpit and to the door, which he forced open against the rushing water. He gathered her against his rock-hard body and backed out of the plane.
Rebecca wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to ignore the pain in her chest as he carried her out of the plane. He set her gently on her feet waist-deep in churning water, her sandals landing on what felt like silky sand at the bottom.

Instantly, she realized that they’d come down only a short distance from shore. Behind Ty, rain pounded on a pristine white-sand beach flanked along its far edge by curving palm trees and greenery that glistened with wetness. A steep rocky cliff rose from the far end of the beach.

“We’re okay?” she whispered, her arms still wrapped around his neck. “We made it to Sugar Cay?”

“Yeah. We made it. But this isn’t Sugar Cay.” He looked regretfully at the half-submerged plane. “And the plane’s a total loss.”

She couldn’t care less about the state of her plane right now. What mattered—all that mattered—was that they were okay.

He turned his gaze back to her, rainwater slicking his hair and running in rivulets down his rugged face. She’d never seen anything more compelling than Tyler Knox in this moment. He was amazing. Wonderful. The sexiest man she’d ever seen.

She was breathing again, her lungs filling with precious, clean air. She’d never felt more alive. Ty had saved her life. He was gorgeous, vital, and masculine. The way he’d carried her out of the plane, with her body cradled so protectively against his, made her feel protected. Safe, even in this crazy situation.

“Shit,” he bit out in a low voice. “You’re shaking. We need to get you someplace dry.”

He began to turn in her arms, but she gripped him tighter. “Ty?”

He froze, staring down at her. His lips—he had great lips, soft-looking and full—were slightly parted. His eyes glimmered a crystalline blue. His lashes were long and dark. His ebony hair shone with wetness.

She wanted to say that she wasn’t cold. She wanted to thank him. She wanted to press her body against him. She wanted . . . him.

The realization sent a pulsing shudder through her.

She tugged him closer. Then she tilted her head up as she pulled him down until his lips collided with hers.