by Vanessa Vale
Mr. Hottie still hadn't moved and I inwardly sighed. This conversation was not something he needed to see.
My phone chimed.
Me: Gotta go. Mr. Farber is texting.
Elaine: He can text? LOL.
I rolled my eyes and shut down the messaging window. Grabbing my phone, I read my boss's text.
Farber: Hearing date for the Marsden case changed to Tuesday. In your absence, Roberts will take over.
“Fuck,” I whispered, my hand tightened around the phone case until my knuckles were white.
I stared at the words and wanted to throw the phone across the plane. Eric Roberts was vying for the same partner spot I was and he was a total asshole. Besides having a law degree, he had a Masters in brown-nosing and a PhD in poaching cases. I'd been gone half a day and he was already taking my biggest case. I could only imagine what he'd accomplish in the week I'd be gone.
Normally, I would have smiled politely and bitten my tongue. But not today. I muttered to myself as I answered Farber’s text with a polite recommendation that he send Martinez instead. Martinez, at the very least, thought with something other than his penis. Roberts had fucked his way through the entire paralegal department and had now moved on to the receptionist in the orthopedic office on the fourth floor. “Roberts. You asshole. Think you’re going to ruin me.”
“Do you always talk to yourself?”
I turned my head and looked up at Mr. Hottie.
“I'm sorry?” I asked, confused. My brain was still processing how my career was going into the toilet at an alarming pace.
“I just wondered if you always talk to yourself this much.”
Reality crashing back in on me, I blushed hotly, then looked away, seeing the flight attendant work his way down the aisle.
“Oh, um. Only when stressed.” I laughed drily. “That means yes. I talk to myself all the time.”
A little V formed in his brow, then glanced at my computer. “Stressful job?”
The flight attendant came to our aisle. “Since we're stuck here, drinks are on us, folks. Beer, wine, liquor?”
“Liquor,” Mr. Hottie and I said it at the same time. We looked at each other and smiled.
“Name your poison then,” the flight attendant replied, pencil and paper ready, looking to me.
“Vodka tonic,” I said. “Make it a double.”
“Same,” Mr. Hottie replied.
When the flight attendant moved down the line, Mr. Hottie turned back to me. “You seem to need that drink.”
“Or ten,” I muttered.
“That bad?” he asked.
“Drowning my problems in alcohol is the only thing I can do at this point. Since I've been on this plane I've had a phone call from my ex, an IM from a coworker and a text from my boss. On top of that, I won't make my appointment in Montana on time.” I waved my hand toward the plane's window and the water streaking down it. “I can't go back to New York and, after months of hard work, they’re giving my case to an ass—” I bit my lip. “An associate because I'm stuck here.”
Mr. Hottie's dark gaze was focused on me. Like a laser. It was as if he couldn't hear the storm brewing outside or the screaming baby two rows back or the conversation of the couple in front of us. He was listening solely to me, and the attention made me hot all over. I had to fist my hand at my side to keep myself from finding out just how soft his hair would feel sliding through my fingers.
“Being stuck isn't so bad,” he told me.
I arched a brow, my gaze flying to his lips as he spoke. Lingering because I couldn’t seem to remember that it was impolite to stare. “Oh?”
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Being stuck with a beautiful woman? Every man's dream. Aren't I lucky?”
I licked my lips and forced myself to face forward, like a reasonable, logical woman. How many times was this man going to make me blush?
“I'm Jack, by the way.”
I licked my lips again, the slight dampness left by my tongue teasing me with possibilities as I answered. Maybe this was how it worked, picking up a man. Maybe Elaine was right. Maybe I could do this. “Catherine.”
Jack shifted his legs so they stretched out into the aisle a bit. “What is it you do that has you so stressed?”
I considered lying for a split second, but my instincts rebelled at the thought. If he couldn’t handle a woman with a brain, I wasn’t interested anyway. “I'm an attorney.”
“My cousin's a lawyer, too. I usually crack jokes about lawyers, but I don't think they pertain to you.”
I laughed and nodded my head. “Yeah, I've pretty much heard them all.” I tugged at one of my wayward curls. “And I'm blond, too, so I'm pretty much doomed in the bad joke department.”
“So what's the big issue that has you so wound up?”
He placed his hands on top of the book in his lap, interlaced his fingers, clearly settling in to the wait. I just looked at him for a minute, trying to figure out why he cared.
Perhaps he sensed my thoughts, because he said, “Look, talking to you is much more enjoyable than my book. Besides, we've got nothing else to do. You might as well tell me.” When I still paused, he said, “What happens on the plane, stays on the plane.”
“I thought that was only for Vegas,” I countered, then grinned. “Fine.” I turned so my back was against the bulkhead of the plane and I faced him.
“My biggest issue is that I'm up for partner and an ambitious co-worker took over my biggest case. I've been gone—” I glanced at my watch and did the math on the time change. “—six hours and he’s poaching my clients.”
“Partner. That's impressive, especially for someone so young.”
I frowned and looked at him carefully. “Thanks. I’m not that young and I don’t think you’re old enough to claim old age just yet.”
“I don't dare guess a woman's age. My mother taught me better manners than that, but I'm thirty-two.”
“Then I'll just say you've got a few years on me.” Five to be exact, but he didn't need to know that.
“Like I said, impressive.”
I looked down at my short nails. “Making partner has been a goal for ten years. I’ve worked my tail off and the thought of the jerk in my office stealing the partnership out from under my nose makes me want to strangle things.”
“You always wanted to be a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Why’s that? Someone in your family put away for a crime they didn't commit?” The corner of his mouth tipped up and his dimple appeared. I stared. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to kiss him there, find out what his skin tasted like.
Holy shit. Elaine was right. I needed to have sex. The long dry spell since my divorce was making me lose my mind. “Um… no. My father's a lawyer. My mother's a lawyer.”
“Following in their footsteps then.”
I thought of my parents. Not warm and fuzzy, not loving in general. But, they'd put me through college and law school so I shouldn't complain. “I guess. I never really thought about it. It was always just what I was going to do.” I'd said enough about me. Time to turn the tables. “What about you? What do you do?”
“I'm a rancher.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“Ever been to Montana before?”
“When I was young. My uncle lived there.”
He gave a slight nod. “I run a horse ranch.”
“I pegged you for a cowboy.”
“I pegged you for a city girl.”
I glanced at my laptop and my phone. Saw my crisp white blouse and slim jeans. “Yeah, you can take the girl out of the office, but you can't take the office out of the girl. Right?”
He looked at me for a minute. “I don't know about that. Maybe you just need to try.”
I bristled at his words, then sighed. “Believe me, it’s not that easy. I've been trying my whole life.” I’d done everything the books said to do to relax. Beach vacations. Yoga. White noise machines and a monthly massage appointment. Al
l they got me was stacks of unanswered emails, a sore shoulder from too much downward dog, nightmares about buzzing insect attacks and complete mortification as a stranger rubbed lotion into my less than perfect body while pretending not to notice how utterly far from perfect it truly was.
The flight attendant brought our drinks on a tray, handed me mine, then Jack his.
I took a swig of the frosty drink and felt the alcohol sit on my tongue, then slide coolly down my throat.
“Headed to Montana to visit your uncle?” he asked, adept enough to know he needed to change topics.
“My uncle died a few months ago.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” he murmured.
I offered a small shrug. “I was twelve the last time I saw him. My parents had some kind of falling out and we never went back.”
“Falling out?”
I took another sip of my drink. “They never told me. I asked, believe me, but they wouldn't say. Surprisingly, he left his house to me and I'm going up there to clean it out and sell.”
“It's in Bozeman then?” If this plane ever took off, we'd land there.
“No, Bridgewater. A small town about two hours away.” Was it my imagination, or did his eyes narrow at the mention of the town? I was about to ask, but the buzzing of the airplane’s intercom system drew my attention.
“Okay, folks.” The captain’s voice boomed through the overhead speaker, preventing Jack from saying more. “While you can see it's still raining, the storm's headed east and the runway's open. We're fifth in line for takeoff.”
The flight attendant came around then to collect the cups. Not wanting to waste the drink, I downed the rest in two gulps before handing it over. I had no choice but to put my laptop away since the tray table had to go up. We started to move then, slowly up the line as one plane took off after another. Quicker than I expected, we were in the air and the effects of the alcohol were kicking in. Now I was buzzing on both his scent and the vodka, and all I could think about was finding out more about this sexy cowboy.
“I never thought to ask, but are you heading home to your ranch in Montana or is it in Colorado?”
“Montana,” Jack replied. “Born and raised. I was in Denver for business. My turn.”
When I frowned in confusion, he said, “My turn to ask a question.”
“Okay. Shoot.” The alcohol was filling me with a warm fuzzy feeling and I knew I wouldn’t normally open up like this. But what the hell? I’d never see him again anyway.
“I don't see a ring. You mentioned an ex?”
“Divorced. You?”
“Never married.”
“Girlfriend?” I was dying to know and the liquor was loosening my tongue.
“No. Boyfriend?”
I shook my head. “Not enough time. My friend says—” I cut off my sentence, realizing I was sharing too much. It didn't matter that I would never see this man again once the plane landed in Bozeman. It didn't matter how easy he was to talk to. There were some things a girl just didn't share. Like the fact that I needed wild and crazy monkey sex up against a wall and at least five orgasms.
“Your friend says…?”
I looked at his gorgeous face, his very broad shoulders, the entire package. I could just tell him what Elaine said. I could proposition him, tell him I wanted to have monkey sex with him. He was single, had said I was beautiful. While I doubted we could be in the Mile High Club—the bathroom on this plane was barely big enough for one, let alone two people—we could easily find a hotel near the airport when we landed. I bet he was good, too. Really good. Those hands, the cock that was clearly outlined in his jeans. He could easily rock my world. The words were right there on the tip of my tongue. Are you interested in a one-night stand?
Elaine so would have done it. But I chickened out. Hell, I didn't want to be rejected. Chad had found me lacking. If Jack did, it would be crushing.
“Nothing.” How could I get out of this conversation? Bathroom. Every woman needed to powder her nose, even at 35,000 feet. “Um, if you don't mind, could you let me out?” I pointed toward the back of the plane.
Jack unbuckled his seat belt and stood, moving out of the way in the narrow aisle so I could walk to the back of the plane. When I shut the lavatory door behind me, I laughed out loud. How anyone had sex in a space this small was beyond me. It was so tiny and definitely unsanitary. I took a second to look at myself in the mirror, to see what Jack saw. My blond hair was wavy and hit my shoulders, my bangs long and combed off to the side. It was somewhat untamable in the east coast humidity, which wasn't all that great for the corporate look. I'd resigned myself to that a while ago, but I was pleased that the color didn't come from a bottle. I tucked it behind my ears and wiped my fingers beneath my eyes, ensuring my mascara hadn't moved downward.
“You're talking to a hot guy. He's interested in you, regardless of your quirks and insanity. He's not going anywhere so get out there and talk to the man.” I stared at myself, then frowned. “Yeah, right. As if he'd be interested in me.”
Working my way back down the aisle, I discovered Jack asleep. He had his head tilted back, mouth open slightly. God, what would those full lips feel like on mine? I couldn't keep standing in the aisle and stare, but I didn't want to wake him because he looked completely out. The only way to get to my seat was over him. Putting one hand on the seat back in front of me, I lifted my leg and winced as I stepped over his. God, he was big. I put my foot down on the floor, leaning my weight on it to bring the other one over, but my legs were too short. I'd totally miscalculated and I was stuck straddling his thighs. Oh shit.
Jack startled and shifted his legs, which lifted my toes off the floor. I lost my balance and fell forward, my knee landing on the empty seat next to him, and my bottom landing firmly on his lap. This, along with my little squeak, had his eyes popping open. Instinctively, his hands went to my waist. Being as small as I was, his thumbs brushed the bottom curve of my breasts which were pressed to his chest.
My eyes widened in alarm as I felt the hard length of him at the juncture of my thighs. If the thin barrier of our clothes weren't in the way, that hard length would be sliding through my folds right about now. Naked, I could ride him like this, right here on his lap, my breasts pressed to his chest, his mouth just out of reach. If I just lifted my chin—
Our eyes met, held. I was frozen in his lap, like a frightened rabbit. My brain completely shut down and I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. I had no witty comment to smooth over the situation. No. Not me. First in my class on the trial advocacy team, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Nope. All I could think about was getting a complete stranger naked. Monkey sex.
His gaze narrowed and was filled with heat and intensity. His pale eyes were a stormy gray. Like the clouds beneath us. I shuddered.
I finally got my voice back. “Oh um, shit.” I leaned toward my seat and tried to lift my other leg over, but his hands held me in place. “Sorry, I… um… didn't want to wake you.” I knew my face was fifteen shades of red, but there was nothing I could do about it.
He grinned then, easily lifting me so that I could swing my leg over and turn to sit back in my seat.
“Anytime, Catherine, anytime.”
I could still feel the squeeze of his hands on my sides, the hot—and very hard—press of him on the backs of my thighs. Mortified, I felt my cheeks burning and I looked everywhere but at him. With fumbling fingers, I put my seat belt on. God, how does someone survive such embarrassment? I had to do something, anything, so I didn't have to talk with him anymore. Elaine had wanted me to throw myself at a man. Well, I’d done it. God, not that I wanted the plane to crash or anything, but I could die of embarrassment right now. Nothing had changed. I sucked at flirting. Always had. Give me a rule book or a procedure manual and I was a genius. But this? Flirting and sex? Yeah. Not so much.
“I… um… I better get back to work.” While the words were for Jack, I spoke to the seat back in front of me.
&n
bsp; In my periphery, I could see he lifted his chin once in acknowledgement, pressed the button on his chair to go back the measly two inches and closed his eyes once again. I could look at him unaware. He wasn't flustered like I was. He wasn't embarrassed or mortified. It had been nothing to him. I was nothing but an amusement on a delayed flight.
To me, that was the closest I'd probably get to riding a cowboy in this lifetime.
When he shifted in his seat, I turned away, afraid he would open those intense blue eyes and see me staring. After the falling in his lap incident, I couldn't be caught ogling.
Hooking my foot to pull my bag out once again, I spent thirty minutes typing up the remainder of the brief. With Jack sleeping, I was able to forget my blunder and focus, glad that I couldn't get any internet or cell service on the plane. My work insanity was at a minimum, but my to-do list simmered in the back of my mind. I might be in radio silence, but that didn't mean my world wasn't falling down around me. I could only imagine what I'd be in for when I got to Bridgewater.
CHAPTER TWO
JACK
“How was your trip?” Sam asked, tossing his pen onto his desk.
I never could understand how a man could work at a desk all day. But that was my cousin, and it made him happy. I thought of Catherine from the plane and realized she and Sam probably had a lot in common.
“Uneventful.” I hung my hat on the coat rack by the door, then settled into one of the chairs in front of his desk. I'd gone to Denver to sell one of the quarter horses. While it hadn't been necessary to meet the buyer in person, sometimes it took a face-to-face to close the deal. The arrangements for transfer from my ranch to the one in Colorado could be handled by phone. “The return flight, though, was anything but.”
Sam leaned back in his chair and put his boots up on the antique desk. You can take the boy off the ranch, but can’t take the ranch out of the boy. “Did the plane hit another bird?”
“What?” I realized he was referring to a flight a few years ago when, on takeoff, a bird had hit the windshield of the plane and the pilots had aborted the flight. Not fun. I could laugh about it now, but I'd been stuck at a hotel by the Denver airport overnight because of a damn bird. “Shit, no. Thunderstorm this time, long delay, but that's not it. I met someone.”
