by Zoe Norman
I give him a look indicating that I'm feeling a little railroaded, but at the same time I'm turned on a lot. Having a man show some interest in me—and having some interest toward him—feels so exciting.
“Okayyyy…” I reply slowly, “I guess a cup of coffee wouldn't be out of the question.”
He looks like he's won the lottery. “Now that's music to my ears, Olivia.” Suddenly, he frowns and sits back a bit. “Actually, I should probably ask the obvious question before committing to going out with you. You don't have a boyfriend or a husband”—he looks shy—“or a girlfriend, do you? I don't want to set myself up to get my ass kicked, you know.”
I laugh. “I assure you, there is no one waiting in the wings, male or female, who would be interested in kicking your ass. Your ass is safe.”
He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead in an exaggerated manner. “Whew. That makes me feel so much better.”
“I suppose I should be asking you the same question. I mean, a girl's gotta be careful. Can't be letting just any Joe in.” I raise an eyebrow to him.
He sits back, looking relaxed and relieved. “No, Olivia. No worries about that. I'm not the guy looking for anything serious. I just like having a drink with a beautiful woman. Is that okay?”
I'm disappointed but make a real effort not to show it. “Well it sounds like we're on the same page then.” I wink and take a sip of my wine.
The bartender comes back, noticing our empty glasses again. “Can I buy you another?” he asks.
“No, no, I'm fine. Thank you. Two has got to be my limit. I want to be able to make it in one piece to the gate.”
The loudspeaker comes on and announces my flight, making me jump. “Oh, that's me.” I pull my wallet out of my purse and move to put a twenty on the bar.
Owen puts his hand over mine to stop me. “No way. Drinks are on me. Now you owe me one in Seattle,” he teases.
I smile up at him. Contact, skin on skin. His hand is calloused and warm, and I wonder what he does for a living. His hand lingers longer than it needs to, and then as if he has read my mind, he lifts it off. I put the money back in my wallet.
“Thank you. That's really unnecessary, but thank you.” I smile up at him and suppress a giggle, “I guess I will have to buy you a drink then, won't I?”
He nods, smiling back.
I stand and straighten my skirt then reach down to grab my carry-on, pulling up the handle so I can wheel it behind me. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Owen. See you in Seattle, I hope?”
He takes my hand again and places a soft kiss on the back. Oooh, his hands are rough, but his lips are so soft. “My thoughts exactly. To more encounters of the pleasurable kind. I'll find you at The Fairmont Olympic to collect on your debt, Olivia Burke.”
I blush, shake my head with a smile, and turn to walk out of the bar. I can feel him watching me, and when I get to the door, I stop and glance over my shoulder at him. He is indeed staring at me—with a cat-that-ate-the-canary look on his face. I shake my head again, giggling, and leave the bar.
I give my ticket to the woman at the gate and start my descent toward the airplane. Normally this walk feels a million miles long. I'm usually so nervous I'm hyperventilating. But thanks to a few rapidly downed glasses of wine and a little flirting with a gorgeous man, I'm nothing if not loose and relaxed.
* * *
Thanks to the late decision to go to the conference, I was forced to book a first-class seat. Now that makes me happy. I find my seat. My big, fluffy, luxurious leather seat. Very nice. I stow my luggage in the overhead bins and put my purse underneath the seat in front of me. I have a window seat, which I love. I slide in and buckle my seatbelt. Almost immediately, a flight attendant is standing next to me. My God, we haven't even taken off yet! She offers me a pillow, a blanket, and a drink. I ask for another glass of wine, which she efficiently gets for me. I sip it happily, now feeling extremely relaxed and ready for a nap.
The plane is filling up quickly, but the seat next to me still isn't taken. I cross my fingers, hoping that it will stay empty. I just want to sleep, not engage in mindless banter with some guy looking to shoot the shit for the next six hours. I take another sip of my wine and cuddle under the blanket, ready to go.
As I gaze out the window at the blinking lights of the planes on the tarmac, I hear a familiar voice coming from the front of the plane. Where do I know that voice from? And then it hits me. Holy crap—Owen. Oh holy Jesus, he's on this flight.
I lift a bit to peer over the top of the seat in front of me and there he is, all six foot something of him, throwing sexy smiles at the passengers he walks by. I slink back into my seat, hoping I remain unnoticed.
Please don't let him sit next to me.
Please don't let him sit next to me.
Please don't let him sit next to me.
This mantra in my mind is slowly being drowned out by my other voice.
Please let him sit next to me.
Please let him sit next to me.
Oh God, let him sit next to me. Please.
CHAPTER FOUR
Owen
“This is the final boarding call for American Airlines Flight 235 to Seattle/Tacoma International Airport. All confirmed passengers should be on board at this time through Gate 27. Doors will be closing in ten minutes.”
I'm lost in thought after Olivia left the bar twenty minutes ago when I vaguely hear my flight being called. “Excuse me. Did you catch what flight they just called?” I ask the bartender with a slight tinge of panic in my voice.
He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he wipes down the bar top. “I think it was flight 230 something to Seattle? I'm not sure really…” he replies, never taking his eyes off the ballgame on the TV screen.
I quickly check my boarding pass:
American Airlines Flight: 235 Departure: 6:40P LGA-SEA Seat 5E
I look at my watch, which reads 6:35 p.m. “Shit!” I quickly dig out my wallet and leave $50 on the bar to cover the tab for the drinks for Olivia and me. I grab my duffel bag from the floor and take off in a full-out sprint towards gate 27.
“You must be Mr. Maxwell,” the irritated gate agent asks as I hand him my ticket.
I nod my head, slightly winded from my spike of adrenaline and run to the gate.
“We've been waiting for you. You're last to board.” He scans my boarding pass and hands it back to me. “Have a good flight,” he huffs and pushes me through the gangway doors.
Well, nothing like making a grand entrance onto the plane, Maxwell. The flight purser has her hand on her hip and a scowl on her face as I round the bend on the gangway. When she sees me, she straightens up and smiles brightly. Her cheeks turn pink and she darts her tongue out to lick her bottom lip.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Maxwell. Let me take your coat while you find your seat and stow your bag,” she coos sweetly. Sometimes my good looks really do work to my advantage.
“Thank you, Lissa,” I smile as I hand her my coat.
“How...how did you know my name?” she asks, blushing yet again.
I point to her chest. “You're wearing it.”
Lissa slowly closes her eyes in embarrassment. “My nametag …”
I wink at her and start to reach into my pants pocket to double-check my seat assignment.
“You're in 5E,” Lissa says. “It's the only open seat in first class.”
I raise my head and look down the aisle to find my open seat.
You've got to be kidding me.
I shake my head in disbelief as I see that Olivia is sitting in the seat next to mine.
“Have an enjoyable flight, Mr. Maxwell,” Lissa smiles and walks off to hang up my coat.
“I think the chances of that happening have just increased substantially, Lissa. Thank you.” I walk down the short aisle towards my seat.
Seriously? What dumb luck do I have that I'm sitting next to the girl of my wet dreams for the next six hours? Somewhere along the way, I must have don
e something good in order to be this lucky. I don't know if my smile could be bigger. However, my smile quickly fades as I watch Olivia's face change from curiosity over who just walked onto the plane to anxiety when she recognizes me to slight horror when she connects the dots that I'll be sitting next to her. Olivia pulls her blanket up and over her nose as if she's trying to hide.
“Hello, beautiful. Looks like I'm sitting next to you,” I greet Olivia with a smile as she cowers beneath her blanket.
“I guess so,” she replies, slowly lowering the blanket to cover her lap, realizing that she looks a little silly.
I toss my bag in the overhead bin and take my seat. “You don't seem pleased that we'll be seated next to each other for the next few hours. Wasn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for to be honest. Should I ask someone to switch seats with me?” I ask, a bit baffled.
“No.” She reaches out to stop me. “That's not it. I…I just can't believe, of all the planes going to Seattle and of all seats on this very plane, yours is next to mine. What are the odds?” Olivia says, her hand still grasping my forearm that's on the armrest. She quickly lets go as if I've shocked her, like she's crossed a line. Cross that line as often as you'd like, beautiful. Pole-vault over it and somehow end up on my lap.
“If you didn't believe in fate before, you may want to start,” I reply as my eyes dart between her beautiful blue eyes and her luscious pink lips. “So”—I clear my throat—“you have business in Seattle. What exactly is it that you do, Olivia? ” I ask as I settle into my seat and search for the two ends of my seat belt.
She looks at me warily, like she's having an internal conversation with herself about whether I'm trustworthy enough to share such personal information. “I'm a psychologist actually. I'm attending a conference in Seattle. Then I'm going to spend some time with my best friend, who lives out there,” Olivia says before she takes another sip of her wine. “Your friend is getting married?” she continues. “That sounds like it will be fun. How long are you going to be in Seattle?”
“The marriage being fun? For Travis maybe. I don't think marriage is really my thing. Being tied down to one person? For the rest of my life? Nooo thank you,” I scoff. “But this guys' weekend will be a lot fun, for sure. Typical guys stuff mostly—too much drinking, too much skin, and not enough sleep.” I look over at her and give her a mischievous smile.
Olivia smiles back and shifts in her seat to cross her legs. A portion of the blanket on her lap slips to the side of her seat, exposing the bare skin above her knee. Oh holy hell.
I lean against the armrest separating our seats and look from her thighs to her eyes, making no apologies for staring. “Wanna come along for the ride? Might be fun…for both of us.” I give Olivia a wink and she flashes those beautiful blue eyes at me like I've scandalized her. It's a look I could get used to real quick.
Olivia looks up at me and bites her lower lip. “I'm not sure you want me as a third wheel during your debauchery. But thank you for the invitation.” As she speaks, she pushes her blanket off her lap and starts fluffing her blouse like she's hot or flustered, or maybe she's both. “A guys' weekend does sound like fun though. More fun than a boring psychology conference.”
“Are you speaking at the conference or just attending?” I ask.
“I'm presenting, yes. I did a longitudinal study on the impact of trauma on servicemen, folks like police officers, firemen—that kind of thing. I looked at them at two and five years after their identified traumatic event. The hope is to come up with therapeutic interventions that will actually work for those guys instead of just glazing over their issues. Boring right?"
My face changes just slightly. "You're kidding me, right?"
Olivia scowls. "No. I'm not kidding you. Why do you ask that?"
I lean back in my seat with a thud, eyeing her suspiciously. "I'm asking that because I am FDNY, Brooklyn."
Olivia's face drops. “You're kidding me, right?"
We both pause and look at each other for a minute before breaking into a fit of laughter.
"Olivia, you know this means fate brought us together on this flight, don't you? I mean, you think it's a coincidence that the psychologist writing about fireman trauma is sitting next to a fireman? It's karma...I knew it!"
She laughs and raises an eyebrow at me. "Ohhh? Karma, even. Now that's a concept that most psychologists don't believe in."
* * *
The plane has long since taken off and Olivia and I have fallen into an effortless banter of conversation. She's easy to talk to. She's jaw-droppingly gorgeous to look at. She's smart and funny. I like her. I usually don't take this much time chatting with women. With most women, I'll throw them the ol' Owen charm and they'll do anything I want them to, which usually involves their being on their knees in one form or another. Olivia is different though. She's a real challenge, which I find oddly refreshing. She'll be in Seattle. I'll be in Seattle. I want to know her in the biblical sense. Badly.
“You're really not seeing anyone?” I find it very hard to imagine that someone hasn't snatched this one up.
Olivia looks down at her hand, runs a thumb over the ring finger of her left hand, and starts to blush. “I'm single as single can be,” she confirms.
"That single, huh? That's a hard pill to swallow." I smile, trying to hide how happy I am to hear this.
Olivia looks over at me and asks, “I can't believe you're single. I mean, I know you're not into marriage so the marriage thing is off the table, and I'm assuming you're probably also not involved in a relationship… Am I talking too much?”
I laugh uneasily. “No. Definitely not married. Was close once, but it didn't work out,” I say matter-of-factly and in a tone that may have been more firm than I intended. I take a deep breath and refocus before turning to Olivia. “Currently, I'm not dating anyone exclusively. So that leaves the door wide open for someone,” I add, smirking and finishing off my glass of beer.
Olivia lifts her eyebrow and grabs her glass of wine, swallowing what's left of its contents. I watch as she closes her eyes for half a second, clearly enjoying the way it makes her feel. When she opens her eyes, she finds me observing her intently. She clears her throat and runs a hand across her collarbone and into the opening at the top of her blouse. I cannot look away. If she's teasing me, she's doing a damn good job.
“Is it warm in here?” she asks. “It's probably the wine,” she continues as she looks at her empty glass before turning her attention toward me.
“Perhaps. Though I think things are just starting to get warmed up,” I reply.
“Oh…” she comments, fluffing her shirt again.
“Owen, can I ask you a question?” Olivia asks, turning in her seat to face me.
I nod, but my eyes are glued to her chest.
Olivia chuckles. “I'm up here, Owen.” She reaches out and uses her finger to tilt my chin back up to look her in the eyes. “I'm just curious. What kind of woman attracts you? I mean, you don't look like the kind of guy who just spends his time with hookers, yet you also don't seem to be terribly interested in relationships. So what is it you like?”
“Wow. You really are a psychologist, aren't you?” I laugh nervously. “I'm going to need another drink for this one.” I hit the call button for the flight attendant. The sooner I can get another beer in me, the better. “You want another?”
Olivia nods in agreement and I ask the flight attendant to bring us another round along with two waters.
“What attracts me? Well, brunettes with soul-piercingly blue eyes for starters.”
Olivia blushes and looks down at her hands, which are resting in her lap.
“Hey. I'm up here,” I say, mimicking her remark. I reach out to lift up her chin to look at me. I take a moment to study her face. “You really are beautiful, you know that?”
Olivia's eyes meet mine as her face turns a deeper shade of pink, but she says nothing, so I continue to answer her question.
“Okay…let's see. I'm
attracted to a woman who likes to have fun and doesn't take herself too seriously. She should be smart and a little sassy. Independent. And Oh!” I point upward with my index finger. “She should like football. That would be a big plus.” I smile at her. “Are you a football fan? Please tell me you are...”
“I, um… I don't know much about football really, but I'm willing to learn.” Olivia looks up at me with an exaggerated “pretty please” face.
I can't help but laugh at her attempt to win me over. Little does she know that she already has.
“That sounds like a fairly tall order to fill. It's no wonder you've had a hard time finding Ms. Right. I guess I have the same problem. I'm looking for someone who might not exist. My last relationship...um...soured me, for lack of a better word.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I hear you. I was engaged at one point.” Olivia recoils in slight shock. “Thought I found the perfect woman for me, but as it turns out, she was more focused on herself than on our relationship. I went through some personal stuff a while back and she wasn't willing to stick with me while I worked it out.”
I take a long sip of my beer and put my head back on the headrest, the heartache I experienced with Molly coming back to me in waves. Wow. I haven't thought about her in forever.
I turn my head to see Olivia watching me carefully. “But whatever happened with your relationship, he was a fool for letting you go,” I say, as I put my hand on her leg and rub the bare skin above her knee with my thumb.
Olivia looks down at my hand on her thigh and inhales sharply, but she doesn't make any attempt to remove it. I can see the effect I'm having on her. The skin on her thigh starts to pebble with goose bumps. Her breathing increases, and her nipples...Oh God. Her nipples start to poke through her blouse. Heaven help me.
