by Melody Anne
He loved sex.
Sex was healthy. It was vital. It’s what kept this pathetic population going like the Energizer Bunny. Maybe this delay wouldn’t end up being such an awful thing after all. But Jackson didn’t jump into bed with women on a whim. Not usually, at least. He’d have to see how the next few minutes played out and then decide whether or not to bed her.
Yes, he was confident enough in himself to know that if he wanted her to share a bed with him, then she would indeed do so. He opened his laptop and pulled up a report. If she didn’t speak again, maybe that would be the end of it. If she did . . . well, if she did, maybe he’d decide to prolong their conversation.
As he began working, a few minutes passed in total silence. So maybe their conversation was over; maybe that small stirring she’d caused in him had been nothing more than a fluke. But her scent began drifting over him. Fingers of jasmine and nutmeg twirled around his nose and slid across his cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he decided that work could wait for a while. There wasn’t a lot of time before he and this nameless woman would board the plane.
As if his thoughts had caused the agents to actually do some work, an announcement came over the intercom, first in French, then in English. “Passengers outbound on Flight 28 with service to JFK, we apologize for the delay once again. We’ve been informed that boarding will begin in ten minutes. Please make your way back to gate K26 and we’ll get through the boarding process quickly and have you on your way to New York in a timely fashion.”
“Finally,” she murmured, though she didn’t seem particularly excited—most of the people in the terminal were clapping. She seemed to be practicing some sort of breathing exercises as she gripped her armrests. Was she afraid of flying?
“Thousands of flights take off and land safely every single day,” Jackson said, almost surprised by the sound of his voice as he attempted to comfort her. Why would he care if she was frightened? It didn’t affect him.
She turned her head slowly his way and her eyes were wide. “Yes, I know.”
He waited, but she said nothing further. “Then why the panicked expression?”
“Probably because even though I know that flying is much safer than a car or boat, my brain won’t listen to reason. Being thirty-something thousand feet in the air in a big metal machine is just unnatural,” she replied before taking another long breath.
“I wouldn’t say that boats are unsafe.” Why had that popped from his mouth?
“Have you not watched Titanic? Or Poseidon? I’d say the passengers on those boats weren’t too thrilled about how their ocean cruises ended,” she said.
“The Titanic disaster could have been prevented, and Poseidon is fiction.”
“Well, a lot of plane crashes could probably have been prevented, too, but with my luck I’m going to be on a flight that goes down in a fiery blaze of glory. Or simply disappears from radar, never to be seen again.”
For some reason, she amused him. One minute she was all mocking and happy-go-lucky, and the next she seemed like a frightened teenager. Whatever she was, she wasn’t boring.
“Why did you come all the way to Paris if you hate flying?”
“For work.”
Her breathing had started to grow easier as they continued chatting, and that brought Jackson surprising pleasure. He liked that he was calming her, that the conversation they were having was taking her mind off her fears. Jackson performed billion-dollar deals on a regular basis. Deals of serious import and excitement. Calming a frightened woman wasn’t in his job description and shouldn’t matter to him in the least. But the fact was that it did matter.
“What kind of work?” he asked.
She tensed again.
“Nothing important,” she said, then added, “I’m Alyssa, by the way. Alyssa Gerard.”
She held out her hand and he looked at it as if it were a snake. With a strange reluctance, he held out his hand and clasped her fingers. He should have known better. As their fingers brushed together, a vibration of awareness rocketed right through him. That was all it had taken, one simple touch. This woman was dangerous.
Good thing he liked danger.
Just then his phone rang and he lifted it, his eyes not letting hers go. After a moment of listening, he gave a curt “No comment” and hung up. Damn reporters!
“Excuse me.”
Without looking back at her, he stood and moved purposefully through the throng of eager passengers. Jackson always purchased two seats when he was forced to fly commercially. The last thing he wanted was to end up sitting on an eight- to twelve-hour flight next to some annoying stranger. In this case, his extra seat was an advantage.
“I want Alyssa Gerard moved to the open seat next to mine,” Jackson said, handing over his boarding passes.
He always booked himself into the last row of first class, giving himself even more privacy. This trip, which hadn’t begun well, was shaping up to be a lot more pleasant now that he had a sexy companion to pass the time with.
A predatory smile transformed his features, making the agent helping him blush. Now that was the reaction Jackson was used to receiving from women.
Chapter Three
When Alyssa was called to the counter as preboarding was announced, she wondered what possibly could be going wrong now. Maybe her seat assignment had been lost or given away and she would be stuck in Paris forever.
Instead of being anxious, though, she turned her thoughts back to the stranger who’d bolted. But, today of all days, why was she thinking twice about the man? Maybe all the trauma had made her lose her mind, and it would be a mental ward she landed in instead of New York.
Having men lust after her was something Alyssa was used to. Most guys wanted to sleep with her, that was for sure. But it wasn’t because they were in love with her. They either wanted to use her because they liked what they saw—not her, just her looks—or figured that it was a fashion model’s duty to warm their beds.
It was almost inevitable in the world she’d been a part of. Modeling certainly hadn’t brought her the life she’d expected. Her young dreams of fame, fortune, and glamour had earned her sackcloth and ashes, and she hadn’t done anything wrong.
When she’d refused man after man, whether a coworker or a boss, she’d struggled in her career. Why should they deal with her when their working world abounded with exotic beauties who would do anything to further their careers?
It had taken her much longer to get the big break she’d been looking for, and then the ride hadn’t lasted long. The one person she’d trusted . . .
A shudder ran through her. She refused to think about Carl Avone, her ex-boyfriend and manager. He was scum and wasn’t worth the precious brain cells it would use to think of him again.
“Ms. Gerard, you’ve been upgraded to first class. Here’s your new ticket.”
Alyssa stood there in disbelief and stared at the agent, not moving to take the ticket. “Are you sure you have the right person?” she finally asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” The woman didn’t blink as she pushed the ticket closer.
“Seriously, I’ve had a hell of a week, and if I get on the plane in this seat and then they boot me out, I’m probably going to end up causing a riot,” she warned the woman. She was impressed when the agent kept her smile in place.
“I assure you, Ms. Gerard, that the upgrade is legitimate.”
Still suspicious, but not willing to appear ungrateful, Alyssa grabbed it and looked at the seat number with the words de première classe—“first class”—written in bold letters across the bottom.
Since she was left with virtually nothing, her parents had bought her a ticket to get home. There was no way they could afford a last-minute international first-class ticket. Feelings of guilt assailed Alyssa as she stepped away from the counter.
What if she was stealing someone’s seat? Her name was printed on the pass, but how could she have been upgraded? She didn’t even have a frequent-flier number. Her manager
had always booked all her flights. Once in a blue moon she’d been placed in business class, which was heaven itself. But she’d never, ever flown first-class. It was a luxury she’d always wanted to enjoy.
First-class passengers were offered preboarding, and with only a small amount of hesitation she joined the line, feeling frumpy in her worn fitted jeans, wrinkled blouse, and baggy sweater. She’d been in a hurry to leave her small apartment and catch her flight home, and she had dressed quickly, packing the rest of her clothes for the journey.
Since she’d shared a place with several other models, it had been depressingly easy to move out; she owned only what she carried in her suitcases. Being a model, she had worn a lot of borrowed clothes to promote companies, and she played down her everyday appearance—she hadn’t wanted to be recognized when not on the job.
None of the furniture had belonged to her, and she’d hung nothing on the walls. Sadly, she hadn’t had so much as a single trinket in the apartment. The more she thought of her life as a model, the more she was grateful it was over. It just would have been nice if her exit from the business had been her choice. She would have come to the same place eventually, but she should have had a nice nest egg to fall back on.
As she entered the first-class cabin and spotted her seat, a smile of anticipation crossed her lips. Oh, this was definitely the way to fly! There was so much room. Plenty of space for her carry-on bag, her feet, her entire body. She might actually be able to catch a few hours of sleep. Not that she wanted to miss out on a moment of this experience, but she was exhausted from the sleepless nights this week, and then those frustrating hours of waiting in the terminal.
A blanket, pillow, and headphones were sitting in the large seat, and a bottle of water waited for her on the adjoining table. Putting her bag under the seat in front of her, she sat down with a wide smile as the flight attendant approached.
“Would you care for a drink?”
It had been hours since she’d ingested a single thing, and Alyssa desperately wanted something to eat and drink, but she didn’t want to be a fool and ask whether there was a charge. All she had was the small emergency cash fund that she’d stuffed into her purse that morning, and she was holding on to that as tightly as humanly possible.
“Not right now,” she replied. She’d have to look through the airline magazine first, find out whether precious dollars would be required.
“Let me know if you need anything before takeoff.” With that, the pleasant flight attendant turned around and assisted other first-class passengers who were gradually filling up the cabin.
After grabbing the magazine, Alyssa was thrilled when she found the page describing first class. Not only were the drinks free, but so were the two meals she’d receive. Meals! Not just pretzels! Her stomach rumbled when she read the options.
“Mmm, this will be a nice flight,” she murmured, feeling giddy and finding that she was having to stifle an excited giggle.
“I certainly hope so. It’s been delayed long enough.”
Alyssa’s head snapped up to encounter a side view of Mr. Whitman as he slid into the aisle seat next to her.
“You’re sitting here?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“I hope so,” he said with a smirk as he placed his bag underneath the seat in front of his.
“Would you care for a drink?” The flight attendant was back, her smile just a bit more radiant than when she’d spoken to Alyssa a moment earlier.
“Yes, please. A gin and tonic,” he answered, barely glancing at the woman.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Alyssa said before the attendant could turn away. “I’ll have a vodka and orange juice.”
“I see you’re in a much happier mood,” her neighbor said.
Why was she sitting here? And why was he speaking to her? The last she’d seen of him had been the back of his head as he’d practically run away from her. So, of course, being a woman who didn’t seem to have a filter when it came to speaking her mind, Alyssa had to make a comment.
“Do you always have that smirk on your face?”
He seemed startled by her question, but then he chuckled.
“I guess I do,” he said before pausing for a few moments while he just looked at her with those intense eyes. “I never did introduce myself,” he finally said, not holding his hand out this time. “Jackson Whitman.”
The flight attendant returned with their drinks and Alyssa took a grateful sip. She definitely had to make the most of this. She’d never be able to afford first class again, and she hoped to heaven that it wouldn’t kill her when she had to go back to the pits of coach.
Jackson pulled out some papers and read quietly while he sipped his beverage. Alyssa found her eyes glued to the small window next to her, the activity going on outside the plane oddly fascinating.
Bags were loaded, small carts darted around the tarmac, then the jet bridge was pulled back, and soon the airplane was gliding easily away from the gate. After the plane began moving forward, it wasn’t long before they were racing down the runway and then lifting into the air.
This part had always made her clutch her seat in fear in the past, but now it was different. Maybe it was the smooth ascent. Maybe it was the comfort of her seat, or maybe the vodka had helped ease her fears. Whatever it was, her heart pounded only a little harder, and the hairs on the back of her neck weren’t standing straight up.
Yep. This was going to be a great flight. Okay, it would be as long as she didn’t think about the fact that they were high in the sky over a huge body of water that would prove harder than cement if they plummeted into it.
Nope. Alyssa wasn’t going to think that way. The one and only time she flew first-class was not going to end with her becoming fish bait.
When the flight attendant brought an appealing plate of appetizers and placed it on her tray, Alyssa decided the night was just going to get better and better. Jackson seemed engrossed in his papers—he picked food off his plate without paying attention to what he was eating—but Alyssa didn’t need him to entertain her.
He might be used to this life, and people might think a model was used to it, too, but only the lucky ones got this sort of treatment. She hadn’t been in that mix. So she was going to enjoy every second and dream about it later.
If only her eyes would quit straying to the sensual man beside her, she’d have been a lot more pleased. But, hey, when a man looked that good, it was a law that he had to be looked at, right? Man candy, her mother would call him.
That thought made her giggle aloud, causing the man she was thinking about to turn his head, and suddenly she was caught by those simmering brown eyes.
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