by Mia Sosa
Her agita didn’t last long. Within minutes, she spotted Mimi walking toward her and breathed a sigh of relief. Before Karen could say hello, Mimi thrust a T-shirt in her hand. “Here. Put this on. To identify us as members of the wedding party.”
Karen smirked. “All three of us, you mean?”
Mimi gave her a pointed stare. “Look, your sister sprung this wedding on us out of nowhere. She’s my best friend, and I will not be denied my bridesmaid experience. Just work with me, please.”
Karen looked at Mimi’s shirt and blinked. Then she blinked some more. Mimi’s T-shirt identified her as a BRIDESMAID. That was plain enough. But just below that one word, she’d customized the T-shirt to read, ASSIGNMENT: TO BLOCK COCKS.
Dumbfounded, Karen pointed to Mimi’s chest. “What in the world, Mimi?”
Unfazed by Karen’s question, Mimi popped her glossed lips and leaned in. “I’m keeping the lovebirds apart until their wedding night.”
“Why?”
Mimi purred and formed kitten claws with her hands. “After a few days of deprivation, they’ll be ravenous for each other. Cue the mind-blowing sex.”
“Is this normal, Mimi? The level of concern you have for my sister’s sex life, I mean.”
“Look, I’m not getting any these days. I’m living vicariously through her. And with several margaritas in her system, Gracie blurts out delicious stories.”
“Eww. Gross. I don’t want to know this about you. Or my sister.”
“Fine. But you’re missing out on good stuff.”
“I’m happy to sit out on those lovely conversations, thank you.”
Remembering the T-shirt in her own hand, Karen whipped it in front of her and expelled a relieved breath when she saw only the word BRIDESMAID across the chest area. At least Mimi had the good sense not to expect Karen to join her crazy train. Plus, she suspected any minute now the airline would ask Mimi to take off the shirt, particularly given the children who were waiting to board.
Sure enough, seconds later, a ticket agent rounded the counter and walked up to Mimi. “Ma’am, may I have a word with you?”
Mimi shuffled off with the attendant as Karen dropped into a nearby seat to watch the theatrics. Less than a minute into his explanation, the attendant backed away as Mimi alternated between pointing at the shirt and gesturing wildly. Karen sank farther into her seat. After a tense standoff, Mimi stood on her toes, reached across the counter for a marker, and wrote directly on her shirt. She pinned the attendant with a stare that challenged him to object to her modification. The poor man’s ears turned crimson, and then he reluctantly nodded his approval.
With a triumphant smile on her face, Mimi returned to her seat, a j having replaced the c—sort of. Karen laughed. Much easier for the parents on the plane to suffer through a million questions about what it meant to block jocks than it would have been to sidestep questions about Mimi’s original phrasing.
Mimi grumbled as she riffled through her purse. “Morons. Now everyone’s going to think I’m a linebacker.”
Karen couldn’t help laughing again. “I think people are going to know exactly what you meant to say. And to be fair, Mimi, there are kids on this plane. Think of all those impressionable minds you’d sully with your T-shirt.”
“Why would those kids stare at my chest anyway?” Mimi pursed her lips, considering her own question. “No, forget I asked that. These boobs are phenomenal. But that’s not really the point. The bigger question is, why are children even allowed to fly on planes?”
She knew Mimi didn’t expect an answer, and that was just as well, because Karen almost swallowed her tongue when she spotted Mark. Well, hello there.
He wore a white linen shirt, unbuttoned at the top so that a hint of his tanned chest peeked out. And he’d rolled up the sleeves, putting his muscled forearms on display. She studied his approach, noting the relaxed pants and slip-on shoes that completed his casual look.
He reminded her of one of the models she’d seen in fashion magazines, except that he didn’t appear to be sucking in his cheeks, and he had enough bulk to leave no doubt in her mind that he never missed a meal. The man carried his good looks and impressive stature with ease, nothing forced or disingenuous about him. She glanced down at her own outfit—a baby blue T-shirt and skinny jeans—and marveled at the difference between her travel wear and his. So. Not. Fair.
He strode to the counter, where an all-too eager attendant proceeded to attend to him. The overly solicitous smile on the woman’s face suggested she was prepared to fulfill his nonflying needs, too.
Mimi bumped Karen’s shoulder with her own. “Pssst.”
Karen snapped out of her Mark-induced trance. “What?”
“You dropped something.”
Karen bent at the waist and searched the floor around her. “What? Where?”
Mimi pointed her finger at Karen’s feet. “Over there. Your jaw.”
Karen whipped her head in Mimi’s direction and registered Mimi’s ear-to-ear smile. “Cute. And you’re seeing things.”
“Don’t get your panties all twisted. It’s painful.” Mimi waggled her eyebrows. “Or pleasurable depending on the circumstances.”
“Mimi.”
“Well, all I’m saying is if your underwear is in just the right place, you can tug and twist it and bring yourself to—”
“Mimi.”
“What? Oh, right. Look, there’s nothing wrong with appreciating a good-looking man.”
“Exactly. That’s all it is.”
Mimi nodded. “Good. Gracie would drive you nuts otherwise. And I get it, okay? I mean, look at him. I’d bang that drum, too. All I’m saying is, if you don’t want your overprotective sister meddling in your business, find someone else to massage your lady bits.”
“I’m partial to massaging my own lady bits, actually. I have no problem getting my own kinks out.”
“Yes, well, more power to you then. But I, for one, am getting carpal tunnel syndrome with all the self-massaging I’ve been doing as of late.”
Karen snickered. She did that often when she was in Mimi’s presence. Out of the corner of her eye, she tracked Mark’s progress toward them. “Zip it. He’s on his way over.”
Mimi straightened and held out her hand. “Hey, Mark. Good to see you again.”
“Mimi, nice to see you, too.”
With her eyes averted and her smile frozen in place, Karen waited for him to acknowledge her, in part because she wanted to see how he would approach their first meeting since the night at the club, but mostly because she didn’t know what else to do.
“Hello, Karen.”
Oh, my. She’d heard his voice before, but this was different. He’d lowered it to just above a whisper, her name leaving his mouth as softly as a caress. This greeting was personal. Intimate. Like they’d already had sex and he wanted to let her know how much he’d enjoyed it.
Mimi cleared her throat. “So, Mark, while you’re up there hobnobbing with the one percenters, could you snag us a couple of high-end cocktails? And a clean blanket?”
He raised an eyebrow, an adorable look of confusion upping his hotness factor by ten. “You’re not in first-class?”
Mimi laughed. “No. I’m all out of frequent flyer miles.”
Karen shrugged. “Recent college graduate here.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Karen regretted them. But it was the truth. And even if funds hadn’t been tight, a first-class ticket was a luxury she’d forgo for a more tangible item. Like a kick-ass pair of boots.
Mark met her gaze, a question in his eyes. “I assumed Ethan and Gracie were paying for you. They didn’t offer?”
Karen nodded. “They tried. We refused. They’re paying for the hotel rooms. The least we could do was spring for the flight.”
He tipped his head and ran his tongue over his top lip. He did it in slow motion. Or at least her mind registered it as such.
Sweet Jesus. Did he really have to sexify every one of his
actions?
When she looked up, he flicked his gaze to a spot behind her. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Excuse me. I forgot I have to make a call.”
He refused to meet her gaze and his face suggested he was mentally a million miles away. Dammit. She’d been staring at his lips, and she’d made him uncomfortable.
“Of course,” she said.
Karen watched him walk away just as the airline announced the start of boarding. Five minutes in his presence and he’d left her flustered.
Mimi tugged on her arm. “Run to the bathroom and put your shirt on. We still have plenty of time.”
Right. She could use a few minutes to regroup.
* * *
Mimi, the rat, had purchased a small T-shirt for her. Tiny, in fact. So tiny she might as well have been wearing pasties. Karen debated whether to take it off, but once the PA system had announced the boarding of their flight, she threw her denim jacket over the T-shirt and scrambled out of the restroom.
She found Mimi hovering near the gate.
“All set?” Mimi asked.
“Yes, but I should bitch-slap you for the size of my T-shirt.”
Mimi grinned. “Or you could thank me for being so thoughtful. You look perky.”
“Grrr.”
Mimi patted Karen’s head. “Now, now, my pet. Be nice or I’ll neuter you.”
Karen swiped Mimi’s hand away and leaned against a post to await their turn to board.
Mark walked past them and waved. “Have a nice flight, ladies. See you in San Juan.”
Mimi stuck her tongue out at him, and though he’d already walked past them, Karen caught the tail end of his laughter.
She and Mimi trudged through the jet bridge and made it on the plane. Mark sat next to another handsome man, this one in a business suit. They’d probably spend the entire flight discussing stocks and bonds or something. She spied a couple ahead of her arguing over where to store their luggage, so she parked her carry-on by her foot. Lovely.
Mimi winked at the pilots as she passed them. “Can I see your cock? Um, cockpit. I meant, Can I see your cockpit?”
A woman behind them cackled. “Can I see it, too?”
Karen fussed with the collar of her denim jacket, wanting desperately to bury her face in it. She turned just in time to see Mark shake his head at Mimi’s remark. A man across the aisle from Mark stared at Karen, a little too closely for her liking, and with nothing to do but wait for the passengers ahead of her to get settled, she dug into her pocket and pulled her hair back into a haphazard ponytail. When she was done, she peeked at the man and found him still watching her. Mark volleyed his gaze between the man and Karen, his knitted brow furrowing and relaxing within seconds.
Finally, she and Mimi settled into their seats, Mimi taking the window seat because, according to her, she’d be less likely to drool on Karen if Mimi fell asleep.
Karen dug in her purse for her e-reader, more than ready to dive into a romance novel about a female mechanic and a buttoned-up businessman. But her quest for a little relaxation was short-lived.
A flight attendant with a plastic smile and a bored expression stopped at their row and cleared her throat. “Ladies, we have two seats available in first-class. Would you like to take those instead?”
Mimi jumped up. “Hell, yes!”
Karen had a less enthusiastic reaction. “Why us?”
“One of our first-class passengers thought you might appreciate an upgrade. If you’d prefer to decline, I can deliver that message.” She said this in all seriousness, and punctuated the last word with a lift of her perfectly arched brows. In other words, If you want to be an idiot and turn down better accommodations, be my guest.
Mark. He must have arranged for the upgrade.
Mimi sucked her teeth. “Really, Karen. What’s to think about?”
Karen leaned over and glanced down the aisle. Someone else deserved the upgrade more than she did. “There’s a Marine on this flight,” she told the flight attendant. “I saw him on my way in. Can you offer it to him, in appreciation for his service?”
The flight attendant smiled, this time appearing genuine in her friendliness. “Mr. Lansing took care of that passenger, too. He’s already in first-class.”
Mimi pushed past her, knocking Karen back into her seat. “See? All taken care of. Let’s go.”
Karen fought the urge to overthink the significance of Mark’s offer. Would it be so bad to simply accept the offer for what it was: a friendly gesture by someone with the financial means to do them a favor? She worried her bottom lip in contemplation. Meanwhile, Mimi grabbed her bag from the overhead and sprinted down the empty aisle. “It’s been real, folks. See you in San Juan.”
As Karen rolled her suitcase down the aisle, she mentally practiced what she would say to Mark about upgrading her seat to first-class.
Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that. No, what would be the point of stating the obvious? Of course he didn’t have to do it. He’d chosen to do it. Probably on a whim.
Thank you, that was really sweet of you. No, that would sound desperate, like she was attaching more significance to the gesture than was warranted. The man had the money to pay for the upgrade, or a bajillion frequent flyer miles to cover it. Surely the upgrade wasn’t a big deal to him.
Thank you, I’ve never sat in first-class before. If she needed a neon sign to highlight her lack of sophistication, telling him she was a first-class cabin virgin would do rather nicely. Uh, definitely a no.
So she settled on thank you. And when she drew back the curtain, Mark rose from his seat and reached for her carry-on. His smile could not have been more appealing.
“Let me help you with that,” he said.
“Sure, thanks. Listen, about the upgrade, I appreciate it. You didn’t have to do it, of course.” She crossed her eyes. “I mean, I know you didn’t have to do it, and that was really sweet of you. But maybe not such a big deal, right? What, with all your frequent flyer miles. Still, that was a nice thing to do. Not that I’m reading anything into it. Yeah, that wouldn’t make sense.” She gave a weak laugh. “I’ve never been in first-class before.” Why the hell were her ears burning all of a sudden? She clapped her hands together like a seal, hoping to snap herself out of her mental runs. “Should be an experience.” And as if that stunning soliloquy were not enough, she ended it with a sigh that came out as a horrendous wheezing sound.
Good Lord, she needed a muzzle.
Saving Karen from further embarrassment, the flight attendant tapped Mark on his shoulder. “We’ll need you both in your seats, please. The plane will be ready to leave the gate soon.”
Karen whipped her head around and searched for her seat. Mimi had already finagled a spot next to the Marine, after asking his original seatmate to switch places.
Because they’d all apparently decided to play musical chairs, Mark’s seatmate rose. “Since you guys know each other, I’ll move. That way you can sit together.”
Karen glanced at Mark in time to see the tic in his jaw. Well, he might not appreciate the opportunity for them to sit next to each other, but she’d take it anyway, because the alternative was to sit next to the creepy dude in 3B. “That would be great,” she said to the Suit. “I really appreciate that. He’s the best man at my sister’s wedding, so we can chat about the toasts and stuff.”
Mark nodded. “Right. And stuff.”
“Okay if I take the window seat?”
Mark hesitated. “Sure.”
“Great.”
She took a gingerly step around Mark and scanned her upgraded accommodations. Very nice. Big, comfy seats made of buttery gray leather. Tray tables trimmed in wood paneling. And flight attendants who rushed to bring the passengers drinks even before takeoff. Oh, and the airline spared first-class passengers the risks of injury associated with maneuvering around a pesky beverage cart to get to the restroom.
She wiggled her butt on the padded chair and stuffed her
purse under the seat. A side-eyed glance revealed that Mark was tapping his fingers on his tray table.
“I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m sure I’ll be out within minutes.” She stretched her arms and yawned. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
Mark sighed. “Somehow I doubt that very much.”
CHAPTER SIX
Mark watched Karen as she made her way to the plane’s restroom. He wanted to block her image from his vision, but the sway of her hips pulled him in. Just before she disappeared through the tiny door, he realized what he was doing: moving his head from side to side, too—in perfect rhythm with her steps.
His reprieve from being tortured by her presence didn’t last long enough. Minutes later, she returned to her seat. She’d taken off her jacket and wrapped its sleeves around her waist. The T-shirt she wore stretched across her chest, the look so enticing he nearly chewed the inside of his mouth to stop himself from making a rash move—like marching her back to the restroom so they could have sex at twenty-five-thousand feet. She’d never agree to a reckless liaison like that, but a guy and his fantasies were like a guy and his dick: where one went, the other most definitely followed.
He stood and let her pass. Kept his face blank, too, when her hands brushed against his waist as she maneuvered around him. Stopped himself from breathing the sweet scent that lingered in his space after she’d dropped into her seat. Batted away a few of her curls when she flipped her hair like an actress in a shampoo commercial. He predicted this would be a turbulent flight. For his libido.
