Her Unexpected Hero

by Melody Anne

  “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.

  Why wasn’t he striking up a conversation with this woman? After all, Jackson had been the one who’d ensured that she would sit by him. He’d been reading the same line on this damn document for the last thirty minutes, his thoughts on the petite blonde next to him.

  Of course, she wasn’t really blond; she was more—what was it called?—strawberry blond. There were natural highlights running through the silken strands of her hair, and he had a powerful urge to run his fingers through it. Never before had he wanted so badly to pull a woman close and slowly bring their mouths together. Sure, he always wanted sex, but this strong sensation in his gut was absurd.

  Jackson stopped pretending to read and instead gave in to what he wanted to do. He reached confidently across the short distance between them and let his fingers glide down her long tresses, startling her.

  Yes. Her hair was as soft as it looked. He always loved when women grew their hair out, loved how it would fall across their naked backs in a plunging gown, or how it would fall forward against their cheeks. And there was nothing sexier to him than a woman straddling his lap, her hair cascading down to cover her luscious breasts in a game of hide-and-seek. He shifted in his seat as his pants grew tight at the thought of sharing such an intimate moment with a woman he’d only just met.

  “You never did tell me why you were working in Paris,” he remarked.

  How much time had he spent staring at her, even burning into her with his greedy gaze? It was probably a good thing she’d been looking out the window earlier, though he had no clue what she was seeing now. They were over the ocean and it was dark. It had to be that she could feel his look, could feel this intense energy rushing between them, and it was making her nervous. Well, it was about to become a lot more intense.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said when she turned his way again and raised her eyebrows in a flirtatious yet pointed extension of her words.

  “You will find that I’m not easily dissuaded.” His eyes still held hers, his hand moving away from her skin as he reached for a mojito shrimp in pineapple sauce.

  He was intrigued by the shuddering breath she took. Though she was trying to look as if his touch hadn’t affected her, it was nothing but a show. When their fingers had entwined themselves earlier, he hadn’t been the only one who’d felt the spark. No, Alyssa was doing her best to keep her distance with her snarky comments and short sentences, but she, too, was intrigued.

  He wanted to know how intrigued.

  “Do you always get what you want, Jackson?” There was a challenge in her eyes.

  “Always.” He was sure in his answer.

  “Sadly, you won’t be able to say that after tonight,” she said, her lips turning up in a winning smile.

  “No, Alyssa. I can guarantee you that you’ll talk.” He leaned close enough to make her squirm in her seat.

  She said nothing, just put a tender scallop into her mouth and chewed. Jackson laughed as the flight attendant cleared their trays, refilled their drinks, and said the main course would be right out.

  After they were served, Jackson found that he was enjoying her pleasure in the food far more than he was enjoying his own dinner. Hell, he couldn’t taste it, really, because his brain was engaged elsewhere. This plane ride was becoming one big adventure to him, in great part because it was clearly exciting to her. He watched her delight in everything around her.

  “Have you flown first-class before?” he asked once they’d both finished their meals.

  “Never. But I’m telling you, this is the only way to fly.”

  “Ye
s, it makes it more pleasant when you’re stuck on a commercial flight.”

  “How else are you going to get around?”

  “On a private jet. It’s much more enjoyable than even the best first-class cabin.”

  “Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “A big jet for just you?” she replied incredulously, making him almost feel guilty about it.

  That was insane. He had nothing to feel guilty about if he wanted to travel alone by private jet. “You’re not going to start spouting off about saving the whales or something, are you?” It wasn’t that Jackson was anti-nature. It was just that he worked hard and he enjoyed life’s luxuries. He couldn’t stand it when people tried to make him feel ashamed over that.

  The key word there was tried, though. They might preach to him, but it was easy for him to tune their words out. If he wanted something, he took it. That was who he was and he wouldn’t apologize for it.

  “No. But still . . .” Her voice faded, leaving her sentence unfinished.

  “There are pilots being paid. A staff to run it on the ground, and many others who are employed because of my jet. There’s nothing wrong with owning one. Bill Gates has a few,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah, what’s up with that? One seems excessive, but to have more than one . . . What? Do you need a different color to fly in for different days of the week, or to match your outfit?”

  Jackson sat dumbfounded as she spoke, then he laughed again. “Perhaps I will point that out to the board. Tell them that one just isn’t enough.”

  “Rich people baffle me. They don’t even think for a minute about how lucky they are, about how easy they have it. All of this,” she said, holding her arms wide, her hand coming within inches of his chest, causing his breath to hitch, “and still, it’s not enough. I made decent money the last few years, and luckily I sent some back to my parents. If I hadn’t—” She stopped when she realized she’d been revealing something of herself.

  Jackson really wanted to know what that was. Yes, he could have a background check done on her the second they touched down, but he wanted to hear it from her, not from his investigator. He wanted to know her—but only for tonight.

  “So, you think the wealthy are just a bunch of pompous asses?” he asked, interested instead of offended.

  She tilted her head and paused briefly. “I wouldn’t say that. I mean, there are a lot of amazingly wealthy people out there. Do you know the amount of money Bill Gates donates? Oprah gives away so much it’s staggering. And lots of celebrities give millions anonymously. I’m just saying that the wealthy, especially the ones who are born with a silver spoon in their mouth, should take a moment to appreciate what they have.”

  “And I take it you weren’t born wealthy?” he asked.

  “No, but I wasn’t poor, either. My dad always worked hard, provided well for our family. We got a family vacation somewhere new and exciting every summer. My parents made sure I never missed out on anything; they paid for sports and clubs and so on. My mom was able to stay home when I was little, and I love her more than any other person on this planet. So, I wasn’t rich by any means, but neither was I poor.”

  “That sounds like a pretty great childhood,” he said.

  “I’m not complaining. I’m just saying that really rich people should have a little more appreciation for all the extra luxuries they take for granted. A lot more appreciation, in some cases.”

  “Point taken,” Jackson said.

  She had no clue about his story. The very strange thing was that he wanted to tell her. Would it change her opinion of him? Did he want it to?

  Jackson shook his head, confused yet delighted by the woman fate had led him to sit next to in the terminal. Had their flight been on time, he never would have met her, never would be having this conversation.

  Jackson wasn’t a man who believed in fate. He could, however, appreciate good timing. And though he’d been furious earlier because of all the problems he’d encountered while simply trying to get home, right now he could kiss the mechanic who had delayed their flight. Or at least he could kiss the woman sitting right next to him. Not only could he kiss her, but he most certainly planned on it.

  The two of them continued chatting as their plates were cleared and the lights dimmed. Conversation around them began to die down, and they seemed to be in their own little world, alone in their small area in the back of first class.

  To be sure, activity continued around them, some people reading, some chatting, but it seemed everyone was preparing for the rest of the long flight. Some had already nodded off. When the flight attendant asked if the two of them would like any help in folding their seats down into beds, Jackson noticed the blush that stole over Alyssa’s cheeks.

  Hell, yes, he was more than ready to have their private cave made, their beds laid down, and bedding brought out in which he’d be able to hide certain activities if he was very discreet. He couldn’t do too much, but maybe he’d finally steal that kiss.

  Alyssa avoided his eyes as she grabbed her small carry-on bag and made her way toward the bathroom. He wouldn’t mind if she reappeared in some mouthwateringly sexy little number.

  Of course, he knew that wouldn’t happen in a public place. He had an imagination, though, so when she stepped from the bathroom in the same clothes, her hair brushed and her teeth sparkling, he chose to picture a sexy red nightie that hugged the curves he knew were lurking underneath her baggy sweater.

  She might not admit the connection that had sparked between them, but it was real and he was more than willing and able to exploit it to their mutual benefit.

  Maybe after this flight he’d go back to regular commercial flying. He never would have met Alyssa had he been on his private jet. Slowly, as she arranged her blankets and climbed into her roomy flight bed, Jackson removed his tie and then unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it from his shoulders. He was immensely pleased when her wide blue eyes stayed glued to his chest.

  Jackson was well aware of his great physique and worked hard to keep in shape. A healthy body was essential to a healthy mind. And tonight he planned to make sure Alyssa’s dreams were filled with colorful images of their limbs entangled together.

  When he climbed beneath his own warm bedding and turned to face her, she gazed at him through half-closed eyes. He could see her internal struggle as she tried to decide whether to turn away and attempt to sleep, or continue facing him and move toward the next step they were destined to take.

  They were partially concealed by the darkness of the cabin and the blankets that covered them, but Jackson was very aware of passengers all around them. The sound of quiet talking was their white noise, and though he and Alyssa were on a plane filled with people, it felt sinfully intimate.

  “You’ve managed to elude my question about your job. Now it’s just you and me and we have hours before we land,” he said, smiling as he watched her take a deep breath.

  Jackson had a feeling she wasn’t the type of woman to jump into affairs. Good. But that should send up red flags; maybe this just wasn’t meant to be.

  No. He refused to believe that. Seeing the curious light shining in her eyes as she looked at him, he knew they were just beginning whatever it was the two of them had started. This was the perfect storm of circumstances. And Jackson wasn’t a man to let such an opportunity pass him by.

  Alyssa faced Jackson in their intimate cocoon, and she felt as if the rest of the world had disappeared. She’d expected him to turn away, expected this strange pull between the two of them to disappear, but he hadn’t—and in defiance of the howls of outrage coming from her brain, she was gazing into his eyes and having a most difficult time not looking at his sculpted chest. Damn him for letting his blanket sit so low on his waist.

  How was she supposed to have a normal conversation with this man when her only thought right now was sex? It was actually almost comical. Here she was, twenty-four years old, just out of a terrible
relationship with her one and only sexual partner, and still incredibly naive when it came to the nuances of sexual behavior.

  It seemed the world thought she must be a sex aficionada, though, because all models knew the ins and outs of sex, didn’t they? How could they possibly make love to the camera and not be experienced in the bedroom?

  Sadly, almost all of her experience had come from watching every romantic movie out there. When she’d finally caved in and had sex for the first time with Carl, she’d been disappointed. It had gotten slightly better after a few times, but she just didn’t get all the hype. Why had this messy animal act caused so much drama throughout history?

  Romantic movies had also been her best resource for proper facial expressions when simulating the throes of passion. Her favorite scene of all time was from Top Gun. When Maverick looked deeply into Charlie’s eyes as the music played, Alyssa had felt her first stirring of desire. Whenever she’d been on a photo shoot that required sultry looks, she’d just pictured that love scene.

  Great. Now “Take My Breath Away” was running through her head while she was lying in the dark next to the hottest guy she’d ever spoken to.

  She’d never looked at male models as if they were real men—they were simply bodies she was posing with. The same couldn’t be said about Jackson. He was all man, and he obviously knew it.

  “Have I lost you, Alyssa?” Jackson asked, startling her.

  “What?”

  “You seem to be lost in your own thoughts.”

  “It’s been a rough day. A rough week, really.” Now, why had she said that?

  “Really? It would help, then, if you told me why you were in Paris. What do you do?”

  “I recall telling you that it was none of your business.”

  “And I recall telling you that I get what I want.”