by Lori Maguire
“What is it, Dalila?” I asked, focusing on her big, brown eyes.
She held out a small stack of papers. “Your copies of the paperwork from the meeting. Mr. Lockhart also wanted to let you know that he would like to meet with you for dinner the next time you are in New York.” She gave me a small but polite smile.
I took the papers from her noticing that she never broke eye contact with me. She was very professional and I had to respect that. “Thank you. I’m running rather late for my flight, but please let Mr. Lockhart know that it would my pleasure to meet with him during my next visit and that I’ll be in touch.” I turned to hit the button for the elevator.
“Very good, Mr. Hart. Have a safe flight.”
The elevator arrived. I turned after stepping in to find Dalila still smiling at me. “Thank you,” I said kindly. Maybe she would be interested in dinner the next time I visited, too.
The doors to the elevator slid shut, which left me staring at my reflection in the gold door as the elevator glided smoothly down to the lobby. While ignoring everyone else on the crowded elevator, I focused on myself. Oh, what the hell was I thinking? There was no spark between Dalila and me. I was doomed as far as any kind of permanent relationship went. I was destined to a life of meaningless connections, having long ago given up any hope of finding my soul mate.
As if on cue, my phone vibrated in my breast pocket for the hundredth time today. I didn’t have to look at it to know it was Monica. She had been blowing up my phone all day with the hopes of being able to see me as soon as I returned home.
She should have left to go back to Vancouver by now. I have a sneaking suspicion that she did this on purpose. Not that there is anything wrong with Monica other than the fact that I know she is only interested in me physically. She doesn’t need the money given her family’s successful business. She’s not looking for a serious commitment. No, I’m nothing but a living, breathing dildo to that woman. The very thought should bother me, but it doesn’t. I’ve grown numb to any kind of romantic feelings since everything that happened with … Heather.
A wave of guilt always washes over me when thoughts of Heather come to mind. After she was killed, all I could think about was how I was responsible for her death. If I hadn’t published that engagement announcement, her jealous ex wouldn’t have gone after her. If I hadn’t gotten into that argument over the wedding with her then I wouldn’t have left angry that night. I would have walked her to her door, and maybe I could’ve prevented the shooting. She was there for me when my parents were killed like no other, and I wasn’t there when she needed me the most.
Yup, since her I’ve pretty much given up all hope of being able to find “the one.” My dream of having the kind of loving relationship my parents had shared was snuffed out like the flame of a candle the day Heather was killed, quickly plunging my world into darkness. Maybe this is how my life was meant to be. Everything happened for a reason, right?
I stepped out of the office building onto the sidewalk desperate to hail a cab. I silently thanked Patrick for being smart enough to change my flight from Kennedy to Newark since my final meeting of the day was in Jersey City. That man totally deserves a raise.
It was a warm, sunny day, and the humidity was rather oppressive. Because I was running late, I didn’t have the opportunity to change before leaving for the airport. Between the jacket and tie, I felt like I was going to pass out. I could feel the sweat running down my back as I waved at an approaching taxi. Thankfully, he saw me and promptly pulled up to the curb. Eager to be out of this oppressive heat, I jumped into the cab before he came to a complete stop.
“Where ya headed, man?” he asked in that tough-guy Jersey accent that always makes me feel like I’m starring in an episode of The Sopranos.
“Newark airport, please. The United terminal.”
The cabbie wasted no time jumping out into the busy Jersey traffic. Just as I sat back in the seat to relax and enjoy the cool comfort of the air conditioning, I felt my phone buzz in my jacket pocket again. Reaching in to pull it out, I suppressed a sigh when I saw it was Monica again. Feeling hot and tired from the day, I decided she was the last thing I really wanted to deal with tonight. And if I missed my flight, which I had a good shot at doing, who knew when I’d make it home. I sent her a quick reply to placate her.
Sorry, Mon, I’m running late. May miss my flight. I’ll be in touch with you soon.
The cabbie got me to the airport in record time. The guy must have sensed my urgency so I was sure to tip him generously. With no bags to claim and my ticket already in hand, I ran to security. The line for first class passengers was nonexistent, allowing me to get through the checkpoint effortlessly. I took off at a sprint through the terminal, arriving at the gate just as the announcement for the final call was being made.
Breathing heavily from sprinting through the airport, I stopped at the desk and handed my ticket to the attendant.
“Cutting it a little close,” she glanced down at my ticket, “Mr. Hart.” She smiled warmly at me as she took her sweet time scanning my ticket. Her hazel eyes openly ogled me. Geez, they’re just looks. Waiting to get my ticket back, I held my hand out to her, fighting the urge to wiggle my fingers impatiently at her. “Have a wonderful day,” she purred, finally handing me my ticket back.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, turning to hurry down the jet way.
As soon as I stepped foot onto the plane, the attendant’s eyes immediately widened. She stuttered as she offered to help me find my seat. I was in first class and there was only one seat available. It was pretty obvious where I was supposed to be, but I thanked her anyway not wanting to be rude.
Quickly scanning the overhead compartments, I found a spot for my bag. As I lifted it into place, my skin prickled with awareness. Trying to find the source of this odd sensation, I quickly glanced around. Every female within my vicinity was staring. Wonderful. That had to be the reason for the strange feeling that washed over me.
I bent down to take my seat and froze. My eyes locked with those of the beautiful woman currently occupying the seat next to mine. Thick, dark lashes surrounded her big, chocolate-brown eyes. Those eyes widened as they pierced through me as if she could see straight into my damaged soul. Dark brown hair was cascading over her shoulders in soft curls. Her pink, plump lips were begging to be kissed. She was stunning. I frowned, realizing she was the source of the strange feeling that was coursing through me since it intensified tenfold as we stared at each other.
She winced and quickly broke eye contact with me, snapping me out of my little musing. Her reaction to me was curious, and, to be honest, not something I normally got from women. She almost seemed annoyed by my very presence. She was clutching the magazine in her hands to her chest as if it was the only thing keeping her from reaching over and slapping me.
As soon as I sat down, her smell of some floral and musk perfume along with something purely feminine permeated the air around me. I heard her deep intake of breath and glanced over at her. She had her eyes closed while she breathed deeply and held it for a moment. For a brief second, I was hoping that I was affecting her as much as she was affecting me. Surely, she had to be involved with someone. A woman as beautiful as this had to be in a relationship. Glancing down at her hands, I noticed no rings. Could I be so lucky?
The flight attendant, who was so eager to help me find my seat, was suddenly in my face.
“Excuse me, sir? We’re ready to leave the gate. I’m going to have to ask you to please stow your briefcase at this time,” she said, stuttering slightly as a blush spread across her cheeks.
I didn’t even realize I was still holding my briefcase on my lap, having been too busy focusing on and trying to identify the foreign emotions that were coursing through me. Quickly, I placed it under the seat in front of me. What the hell was happening to me? I probably looked like a complete idiot. And why the hell did I suddenly feel like a timid teenager again? Way to make a great first impression.
Noticing it was a photography magazine, and desperate to know anything about this beauty, I used her apparent interest in photography to start up a conversation. Before I could speak, though, she let out a huff and stuffed the magazine in the pocket of the seat in front of her. Now was my chance.
“Are you a photographer?” I internally cringed when my voice came out sounding all husky. The reaction I was having to this woman was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. She turned and stared at me with a disbelieving look on her face. Was she surprised I was talking to her or annoyed with me because this happens often to her? I couldn’t get a read on her.
“Yes … no … well, sort of,” she said, stuttering like most women do when they are around me.
Yes! She wasn’t annoyed with me. I was affecting her as much as she was affecting me, but I was shocked that she seemed to be surprised that I was talking to her. Surely, she had men frequently tripping over themselves to get to her. Keeping my face impassive not wanting to give away my surprise, I continued to look at her. She seemed nervous as she cleared her throat and took a deep breath. It was so adorable.
“Yes. I am a photographer. I’m relocating to Seattle to work with a friend in her photography business,” she said, trying to sound more confident. I still picked up a trace of nervousness in her tone that I found to be quite endearing.
Suddenly realizing that she said she was relocating to Seattle, my heart started pounding in my chest. I was barely able to contain my excitement. This day just took a turn for the better. There is no way I’m letting this woman walk off this plane without having some way of getting in touch with her. I needed to know the name of the company she was going to be working for.
“If I may, what is the name of your friend’s business?” I asked, secretly pleased with myself that I sounded generally interested instead of more like a stalker. Then a frown marred her beautiful face. Maybe I didn’t fool her after all. Maybe I did come across as some kind of creeper. Wonderful.
“Emerald City Photography. Have you heard of it?” she asked.
Her response caught me off guard causing me to be the one frowning now. Was she always so willing to give out information to complete strangers? Obviously, I wasn’t going to hurt her, but there is a whole lot of bad in this world. How could she be so trusting?
“No, I can’t say that I have. So, you have a place in Seattle?”
She paused for a moment as if she were pondering my question. Maybe she wasn’t so willing to give out information to complete strangers after all.
“Yes. I will be staying with my girlfriend until I can get a place of my own,” she explained.
“I see. Where about in Seattle?” I asked.
Again, she paused for a moment or two before she answered.
“Oh, uh, an apartment complex near Lake Union.”
Hmm, that’s not far from me. Good to know. “That’s a beautiful area. I think you’ll enjoy Seattle. Best of luck to you,” I said, following it up with my best smile.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Her chocolate-brown eyes held me captive. As we continued to stare at each other, electricity filled with sexual tension snapped in the air between us. It caused the hair on the nape of my neck to rise before shooting straight down into my trousers. My sex twitched in response and began to strain against my zipper. Surprised by the reaction I was having to her, I broke eye contact and just stared at the seat in front of me. What was it about this woman that was affecting me so much?
Moments later, I reached for the SkyMall magazine from the seat pocket in front of me, and surreptitiously readjusted my trousers in the process.
As I mindlessly flipped through the magazine, I fought the urge to chastise her for being so forthcoming with a perfect stranger. However, I also wanted to gleefully jump up and down concerning the valuable information I was able to obtain from her. Being able to locate her within Seattle now shouldn’t be a problem. Not for my security guy, anyway.
Before I could say anything else to her, the announcement about the use of approved electronic devices was made. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she reached into her bag to retrieve an iPod and headphones. As soon as she chose something to listen to, she sat back into the chair and closed her eyes.
For the remainder of the flight, I was achingly aware of her. My eyes were glued to her profile as she sat peacefully sleeping in the chair. Her long, dark lashes lying softly on her porcelain cheeks. Her perfect lips parted slightly as her chest softly rose and fell with her slow, relaxed breaths. The urge to wrap my hand around those soft, brown curls so I could plunder her mouth while I held her in place was overwhelming.
I kept blowing off the flight attendants who approached trying to offer food and drink. After a while, anything that forced my attention away from her, I found to be just downright annoying. I probably looked like a total creeper as I sat completely mesmerized by her, but, oddly enough, I didn’t care in the slightest.
As I sat and watched her peacefully sleep, I allowed emotions that I have never felt for another to course through me. Fear of not be able to make her mine was the most prominent. A profound happiness based on the possibility that I have finally found the one was a close second. Visions of spending the rest of my life with this woman played like a sappy chick flick through my head.
The few times I did manage to focus on something else, it was the one male flight attendant. The bastard was constantly ogling her as she slept causing the instinct to protect her to surface suddenly within me. I desperately wanted to reach out and touch her so I could declare her as mine. I even had to fight the sudden urge to growl at him. What the hell? Obviously he must have sensed something coming from me, because he avoided the first class section for the remainder of the flight.
When the announcement came to stow all electronic devices, I had to stop myself from waking her, realizing it wasn’t my place. I spent so much time dreaming of making her mine while she slept, that the actual reality of my situation slammed down on me hard.
Thankfully, it was the female flight attendant, who spoke to me at the beginning of the flight that reached out to wake her. Had it been that ogling male flight attendant, I would have ripped his arm off.
I watched intently as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes then bent down to retrieve her bag to quickly return her iPod and ear buds to their rightful place. My eyes never left her as I silently willed her to look at me. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I needed to have those deep, chocolate-brown eyes focused on mine, but she refused to look my way. Her denial only made me crave her attention more.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, the air once again began to sizzle with a sexual tension between us that my body instantly responded to. My palms got sweaty, my skin was tingling with anticipation, and once again I was left straining against the zipper of my trousers. Visions of ripping her out of that seat and taking her right here on the floor left me breathless. Geez, at this rate I was going to have the worse case of blue balls known to man. For a split second, I actually thought about meeting up with Monica just so I could get the release I obviously so desperately needed.
She began to fidget next to me. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she positioned her hands under her thighs as though she too was fighting the urge to reach out and touch me. Just the thought of her wanting me as desperately as I wanted her almost shattered what little of my willpower remained.
As soon as we landed, I dug my cell out and sent a text to Scott with all the information I learned about Ella Martin. He immediately sent a text back to let me know he was on it, and how finding her whereabouts was going to be a walk in the park. That’s why he was my security chief extraordinaire. The guy was a genius when it came to
finding people not to say anything about his talent with computers. His confidence gave me confidence, and it was the only reason I was able to let her walk off that plane without becoming a stalker in the airport.
Knowing all too well how pushy and impatient people get once it’s time to disembark, as soon as that fasten seat belt sign went out, I stepped out into the aisle to prevent the foot traffic from behind pushing past us. I was damned if I was going to allow her to get trampled while people fought to get off the plane like caged animals that had just been freed.
While holding up those behind me, I ignored all the heavy sighs and grunts of protest as I motioned with my hand for her to go before me. I couldn’t help but smirk when she still refused to make eye contact with me.
“Thank you,” she mumbled softly.
Casually strolling behind her, I watched as she bolted up the jet way. If I didn’t know any better I would swear she was eager to get away from me. I didn’t take any offense to it, though. As we were landing, her actions clearly told me that she felt the electrical sensation that rippled between the two of us.
As I continued up the jet way, I had the most ridiculous smile on my face. There was a spring in my step that wasn’t there before, and I had an overwhelming desire to whistle. I haven’t felt this buoyant in … well, never.
I pulled my cell out of my jacket pocket to text Stewart. I needed to let him know I was on my way out so he could pick me up. While I was still holding my cell in my hand, it buzzed with an incoming message. It was from Monica. Again. I quickly typed out a reply to her that I knew was not going to make her happy, and I didn’t care in the slightest.
Not tonight, Monica. Take care.
Not only not tonight, but not ever again. There was only one girl for me, and she just walked off this plane.
Ember Whitfield was well on her way to living the life she always envisioned for herself. She received her degree in photography from a prestigious New York university. Her best friend, Jake, was her roommate and photo assistant. And after fleeing the tough competition of New York City for Seattle, she had high hopes of being able to obtain her dream as a professional photographer. But most importantly, Ember was perfectly single. And after having dumped her not so perfect, philandering boyfriend, Ember planned on staying perfectly single. But as Ember soon discovers, things don’t always go as planned.
