make room for mine, and it’s as much a struggle as breathing is right now.
“Let me help you.”
The deep, slightly husky male voice has me turning to my left to find
myself captured in a familiar stare. My heart sputters. It can’t be. But it is.
I’ve made a fool of myself by gaping at a gorgeous man and he’s here to
make me pay in buckets of embarrassment. The man from the terminal is
standing beside me, towering over my five feet three inches by close to a
foot, and standing so close that I no longer have to guess the color of his
eyes. They are blue, a piercing aqua blue that is almost green, and they are
once again focused one hundred percent on me.
“My pleasure,” he says, a quirk to his mouth that I am once again
looking at, along with the dark stubble shadowing his strong jaw along with
his barely there goatee, which makes me think pirate. The kind that steals a
girl’s senses and ravishes her body, leaving her incapable of anything but a
whimper as she watches him walk out the door. Mr. Tall, Dark and
Potentially Dangerous reaches over me to adjust the compartment, his
t-shirt stretching over a perfectly sculpted broad chest. I don’t move—me,
a person who believes wholeheartedly in personal space. I know I should
and I mean to, but I don’t seem to have control over my legs, let alone
anything else tonight.
He glances down at me, still shifting my luggage. “Just this bag?” he
asks, and there is heat in his eyes. Or maybe amusement. And conquest,
definitely conquest, which must get old for a man like him.
The thought is enough to make me step back, probably a bit too
obviously. “Yes. Thank you.” Arms still stretched over his head, he adjusts
my bag, muscles flexing, long torso stretching deliciously, and I don’t try to
look away. Admiring this man keeps me from thinking about the hundreds
of other people on this flight that could be trouble.
“We’re all set,” he says, motioning to the seat. “You want the
“Window?” My belly tightens and I feel breathless. “We’re seated
“Appears that way.” Humor lights his eyes, and his mouth that I am
somehow looking at, quirks as he adds, “Small world.”
My cheeks heat at the reference to our little encounter in the
terminal. “Too small,” I say, and an announcement over the intercom urges
us to sit, saving me from some witty comment I don’t have.
“Last chance,” he says. “Window?”
I open myself to decline and snap my mouth shut. An aisle seat
exposes me to the other passengers, many at my back. The only person
who will ravish me while I’m trapped between this man and the wall is this
man. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Thank you,” I say, before I grab my bag and move to the seat he’s
just given up, only to remember that he’d been settled here before I
arrived. “Do you want your things from under the seat?”
He slides in beside me and he is big, and broad and too good looking
for the safety of womankind. “Why don’t I just put yours under my seat?”
He smells spicy and masculine, and the scent stirs a distant memory
in the back of my mind. I shove it away, frustrated that I’m back to every
little thing triggering flashbacks. Today has undone the strength I’d spent
years creating in myself, made me weak as I once was. “Yes,” I agree. “Just
let me grab a few things for the flight.” I quickly remove my file and my
purse and hand over my carry-on, and in the process my hand brushes his.
A jolt of electricity darts up my arm and I quickly turn away, buckling myself
in. Maybe being locked in a corner with a man I am powerless to control my
reactions to isn’t so smart.
I glance up to find a pretty twenty-something flight attendant holding
a tray and gobbling up my seating partner with unabashed approval that
makes me think of the bold way Chloe lives her life, and suddenly it’s hard
to breathe. I will never see Chloe again.
“Why yes, we will,” my travel partner says, accepting two glasses,
and turning to me, successfully dismissing the flight attendant.
I hold up a hand. “No. Thank you.”
“We have a designated driver.”
“I’m afraid it will make me sleepy,” I object, though I am certain the
visit from my guardian angel, or handler, has ensured I won’t rest well again
for a very long time.
“It’s a four-hour
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