She straightened her spine. “What? You don’t think a woman might be capable of flying a plane?”

A smudge of grease marred her exquisite complexion. Even from this distance, he’d become lost in her eyes, rimmed by long, dark lashes. Her features were perfectly balanced, and even without a bit of makeup, her beauty stole the breath from his lungs. “No. Of course not. I was just…surprised, that’s all.”

She grabbed a rag, wiped her hands, then climbed down the ladder. “It seems I’m both. Pilot and mechanic. Sophie Madigan.” She said her first name in the French way, with the accent on the last syllable.

“This is your plane?” he inquired.

“No, it belongs to my father. But I fly it. I am a licensed pilot,” she said. “There is no need to worry, Mr. Shelton. I know what I’m doing.”

He reached out and took her slender fingers in his, shaking her hand. God, she was stunning. This island was teeming with gorgeous women, but this woman put them all to shame. She was slender and delicate, with long legs and graceful arms. Her clothing clung to every curve of her body and if he had to guess, Trey would venture she wasn’t wearing a whole lot underneath.

“You are younger than I expected,” she said, a tiny smile curving the corners of her mouth. Her gaze was still fixed on his face, her eyes slowly taking in his features. For a moment, he thought she might say more.

She didn’t seem to recognize him, even though his name should have given him away. Trey’s reputation as a celebrity playboy usually followed him wherever he went. The press had dubbed him the male equivalent of Paris Hilton. They’d documented his exploits with women and poked fun at the various careers he’d attempted.

Most women found his bad-boy reputation irresistible. But he found the thought of going unrecognized for once intriguing. What would it be like to be judged on his own merits rather than an image perpetrated by the press?