Chapter Four
I didn’t manage to get much sleep the night before the flight. My plans being so last-minute, I had a lot of packing to do, not to mention my passport to find, which, alone, took three hours. Eventually, however, with my hastily packed suitcase and a carry-on bag of essentials, I caught an early cab to Newark.
Although I’d only bought a seat in the coach cabin, when I got to check-in, I was upgraded; apparently there were some frequent-flier miles I’d clocked up earlier in the year, when I was working on a case that took me to Oregon to interview an expert witness. I’d ended up making several trips to see the guy, and in the end, he didn’t testify on our behalf. Back then, I’d been pissed about the waste of time. But as I was handed my business-class ticket, I was very grateful. Not only did it mean I’d have a quieter, more comfortable journey, but it offered the glimmering possibility of catching up on some of my missed sleep.
When I reached my seat, I found myself by the window, with an empty spot to my left. With a contented sigh, I tucked my carry-on into the overhead compartment and ran both hands through the loose dark waves that curtained my face. Holding my hair in a ponytail, I slumped into the spacious leather seat. I quickly melted into it, finding my exhausted eyes closing without any need to compel them.
However, they weren’t closed long enough to allow sleep to come to me. I felt a rush of air sweeping over me and heard the soft thump as a body sat down next to me. Eyes opening as reflexively as they closed, my face turned toward the sound of the moving air.
“Sorry,” the body who’d disturbed the air said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice was as rich and deep as his chestnut eyes. The tone also seemed to suit the strong jaw and neatly styled hair that was slicked off his forehead with a little gel. I guessed he was in his late thirties or early forties, small laughter lines around his eyes the only thing that suggested he was a day over twenty-five.
I found my eyes moving over the smooth skin of his face and becoming transfixed by a tiny mole on his upper lip. The speck moved as he began to smile.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“No,” I blurted, blinking and shaking myself from my thoughts. “I mean, yes,” I corrected. “I’m fine, and you didn’t wake me.”
“Oh, well good,” he nodded.
My lips parted in preparation to speak again, but any attempt I was about to make was halted by the appearance of a very attractive, very tall flight attendant, who placed her well-manicured hand on the man’s seat and leaned down toward him, flashing him a copious view of her cleavage.
“Hi, Lance,” she smiled with a sparkling set of blindingly white teeth. “I thought you were sitting in first class.”
“Oh, err,” he mumbled. “Well, I was, but I..um...I moved for an elderly lady.”
“That’s so sweet of you,” the flight attendant said, her grin growing broader. “If you need anything, just give me a shout.”
“Thanks, Cat,” he replied, offering her an easy smile in reply.
I waited for the woman to right herself and walk a few seats ahead before turning to give him a skeptical lift of one eyebrow. “You moved for an old lady?”
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes shifting slightly from left to right. “They have those seats that turn into beds up there,” he said, nodding in the direction of the first class section of the plane. “Thought she’d be more comfortable.”
I hummed my understanding of his story, but I still wasn’t buying it. The man was one of the worst liars I’d ever come across, his hands moved restlessly over the front of his black pants and his gaze didn’t remain still for a second.
“What?” he chuckled self-deprecatingly, noting the doubt in my tone.
“I don’t believe you,” I told him before quickly listing his many tells.
His response was to laugh and hold his palms up in a ‘you got me’ gesture. “What are you, an attorney or something?”
A corner of my mouth rose.
“You are an attorney,” he stated, nodding. “Damn,” he muttered to himself, dipping his face and shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he added, lifting his face and managing to meet my eyes with the same sincerity he had the first time he spoke to me. “Okay, I know this is going to sound creepy, but I asked to be moved so I could sit next to you.”
Taken aback by his sudden, very frank explanation, I found only one question on my mind and my lips. “Why?”
“Well...I don’t want this to sound shallow, but I thought think you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, and I wanted to get to know you.”
“Oh,” I breathed, unable to find a complete word. He was attracted to me? Running on only an hour’s sleep, and wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweater, that seemed unlikely. I wanted to ask if he was sure, but even in my own brain that sounded like a ridiculous question.
My long silence started to make him uncomfortable. “If you want me to move, I will,” he offered.
“No,” I quickly replied. A little too quickly. “Um, if you want to stay, I don’t mind.”
“Really? You sure; it’s a long flight?” he warned, with a warm smile. “And, maybe you wanted to sleep anyway.”
“No,” I responded with a brief shake of my head. “It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to.”
His face brightened as he lifted his right hand. “I’m Lance,” he offered.
“So I heard,” I nodded, wrapping my fingers around his large, strong ones. “Brooke,” I smiled.
“It’s nice to meet you, Brooke,” he said, squeezing my hand gently before releasing it. “What’s taking you to Paris, business or pleasure?”
“Um,” I hesitated, not knowing exactly how to answer. The trip certainly wasn’t business in the strictest sense, but it was a mission; a calling. However, that ‘calling’ was to have fun. “Pleasure,” I confirmed, unconsciously sweeping a few strands of hair behind my ear. “How about you?”
“Business, unfortunately,” he replied. “But, hopefully, I’ll still have some time to see the sights.”
“Oh?”
“I’m attending a conference,” he explained, twisting his upper body toward me.
Unconsciously, my own body moved to mirror him. “I see,” I nodded. “And, um, what is it you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Only seems fair,” he grinned. “After all, I know what you do. I’m a pilot.”
Eyes opening a fraction wider, I stared at him for a moment. “You’re a pilot?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded, reaching for the zipper on his high-collared jacket. Tugging the fastener down a few inches, he revealed the white dress shirt with a set of wings embroidered on the left breast pocket.
“Makes sense,” I nodded.
“What do you mean?”
“The fact that the flight attendants know you, and you were able to get your seat switched,” I said, gesturing with a nod of my head to the attractive blonde who’d been leaning over him.
Lance was an indisputably magnetic man; tall, broad shouldered, and exuding just the right amount of confidence without being arrogant. And he was more than just easy on the eyes, he was easy to talk to. Although it had been a long time since I’d casually chatted with a stranger, nothing about our conversation seemed awkward or unnatural. And the more he talked, his voice as delicious and smooth as warm syrup, the more I realized I was developing a rather serious attraction to him.
After almost three hours of sitting in his company, I found my gaze unintentionally flitting to his lips, and my thoughts drifting to fantasies of what he might look like with his shirt off.
“Brooke?” he said, breaking my musings.
“Hmm?” I asked, forcing my eyes back to his.
A question flashed across his face, but he didn’t give it voice. “I said, how come you’re going to Paris alone?” he chuckled.
“Oh,” I breathed. “It’s...um...a long story.”
“We’ve got the time,” he sugges
ted with a quirk of one shoulder.
Inhaling, I felt my face fall as I began to tell him what had prompted my sudden desire to experience more than my tunnel-visioned, career-driven existence.
“Sorry,” he whispered, consolingly. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he added sincerely.
“It’s alright,” I quietly offered, shaking my head. “It’s not your fault.”
“So, you’ve vowed to start living for something other than work?” he asked, clearly trying to draw me away from sorrowful thoughts of Helena. “That’s great.”
“Yeah,” I nodded a little reluctantly, “I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Well, it’s just a little scary; throwing caution to the wind.”
“Hmm,” he hummed, his lower lip jutting out fractionally. He was silent for a few seconds, and then the thoughtful expression faded. His mind, it seemed, had settled on something. “In the spirit of throwing caution to the wind,” he began quietly, tipping his head a little closer to mine. “Can I tell you that I’ve been thinking about doing something for the past three hours?”
“What’s that?” I wondered aloud.
His intense, brown eyes moved from mine to my mouth. Without another word, his face slowly drifted nearer. His movement, so gradual, gave me plenty of warning; plenty of time to pull back or tell him to stop. But I did neither. Instead, my tongue quickly leaped over my lips, moistening them.
Just a breath from me, his eyelids dropped closed, and his head tilted so our noses did not collide. After what felt like an incredibly long moment, during which I felt my heart rate triple, his soft, inquiring lips merged smoothly with mine.
The second we came together, I experienced a spark; something that had long been dwelling dormant erupted, sending a rampage of warmth to my cheeks. Pulse thrumming in every cell, I felt my fingers begin to tremble as I lifted them to his jacket and clung on for dear life.
My reaction was, I know now, disproportionate to what Lance was doing. It wasn’t a frenzied, passionate kiss. It was calm, easy and almost experimental. However, it stoked a fire in my loins that I’d not felt burning for a very long time.
After sampling my lips with his, he eventually opened his mouth slightly. My tongue responded rapidly and reflexively, forcing its way between his parted lips and racing over the warm, sweetness that I found within. His tongue entwining with mine, I found a hint of coffee and chocolate on his taste buds. As their rich flavor struck me, I moaned longingly. But the sound wasn’t a desire for coffee or for chocolate, it was a desire for him. It was a desire for much more than just his lips and tongue. I needed to feel his hands on me.
Restlessly, I shifted in my seat, feeling the flood of warmth between my legs. Seeming to suddenly come to my senses, my eyes snapped open and I pulled back from him. “God,” I muttered, inhaling hasty, shallow breaths.
“Wh- What’s wrong?” Lance asked, shaking his head in confusion.
Staring at the mild disorientation in his eyes, I had to fight the urge to simple tug him back to me. To avoid the temptation, I released my hold on him and slowly pulled my hands back into my lap. “I...um...” I quietly uttered. “This is crazy.”
“It’s throwing caution to the wind,” he agreed, smiling.
“But, we don’t really know each other,” I whispered.
“We’re only kissing,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I acknowledged with a roll of my eyes, “but-”
“But?” he urged, concerned by the sudden way I’d cut myself off.
“I...” I tentatively began. For several seconds, I silently debated how frank I should be with him. After all, I didn’t want him to gain the wrong impression. But, then again, what did it matter what impression he had of me. After we got to Paris, there was a good chance I’d never see him again. “Um,” I mumbled. “Well it’s just that, things were getting a little intense. And I have a feeling that if we were somewhere less public, then we...err...”
Lifting his large right hand, he curled a gentle index finger around my chin and coaxed my face to his.
“What are you saying, Brooke?” he calmly asked.
“I...” I shakily replied, feeling my limbs melt under the heat of his gaze. “I...I want you,” I whispered.