Taking Flight, стр. 4
“And how exactly are you going to do that?”
He chuckles in that low, sexy way that makes my insides stir. “I’m not just a handsome face. I’m a pretty savvy businessman as well. I’ll drill you with every question they could throw your way, and when you answer, I’ll tell you how to answer even better.”
“That’s your compromise?” I challenge, my mind running with various scenarios of the next five hours; more drinks, more flirting, movie snuggling, intense questioning, no questioning, more flirting.
“Do you have a better idea?” he quips, his dimple appearing again.
Mile high club? I shake that thought away but feel my cheeks heating anyway. “You promise you’ll help me prep?”
“Scout’s honor.” He lifts his hand in a three-finger salute, his expression one of complete seriousness.
I laugh, throwing my hands up in defeat. “Okay, you win.”
“Yes!” he exclaims, his face lighting up. He lifts a hand to wave to the first-class attendant, requests another round, then turns back to me. “So, what kind of movies do you like?”
We spend the next hour talking, eating, drinking, talking some more, and then finally decide on a movie. We pick a comedy, staying away from romance and my request for nothing scary. My head is light and fuzzy from all the bubbly I’ve been drinking, and about halfway through the movie, I feel myself doze off. I’m not certain how long I’ve been asleep when I feel something warm brush against my cheek, my eyes springing to life.
“Wake-up, sleeping beauty.” Sparkling green irises stare into my bleary ones, and I blink, making sure I’m not in a dream as my gaze drifts down to his perfectly puffy lips. I swipe my tongue over my own, the urge to kiss him overwhelming. I lean forward just as he begins to speak, snapping me to my senses. “You fell asleep.”
I bolt upright, wiping a hand over my hair, then my face, hoping I don’t look like a complete mess. “I guess I’m a bit of a lightweight,” I joke, trying to cover up my mortification, swiping my fingers under my lashes, hoping to remove any stray mascara that may have wept as I slept. “Do I look awful?”
“You look like an angel.” My heart stutters as I absorb the way the edges of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. He extends a crystal tumbler in my direction. “Here, drink this. It’s just some seltzer. It will refresh you.”
“Thank you.” I take the glass from him and sip from the edge, bubbles popping under my nose as cool liquid slides down my throat. Before I can come up with another blubbering response, he speaks.
“We’ve got about ninety minutes left until we land. Did you still want me to drill you with questions for your interview?”
Did he say ‘drill’ me? Because my answer is whole-heartedly, YES. I cover my mouth as a giggle escapes and bob my head.
His brow creases. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” I state, much louder than is required. “Let me just get my laptop.” I stand and wait for him to rise, then move into the aisle. He opens the compartment he helped me place my bag into earlier and motions at the contents.
“It’s this one, correct?” He places his hand on a large, black, leather computer bag with small LV initials embossed throughout the material.
“Yes,” I acknowledge, accepting it as he passes it to me. “Thank you.” I move to squeeze past him to take my seat when a sudden jolt sends me careening into him, a yelp of fear leaving me as my bag drops to the floor between us.
“I’ve got you.” His arms capture me with little effort, steadying my body against his, my heart punching against my ribs as I draw in a deep breath. “It’s just a little turbulence.”
The plane continues to bounce, my panic increasing as I clench my hands around his biceps to anchor myself. “A little?”
His hands slide down my arms, his grip tightening as he guides me back to my seat, giving me a soft push into it when we reach it. He bends and retrieves my bag, setting it in my lap as he stands tall. A ragged breath leaves my lips as I heave a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” I turn to look at him. “Again.” Then I giggle, my nerves getting the best of me.
“It’s nothing,” he concludes, waving off my behavior as he lowers into his seat with ease. “Put your seatbelt on.”
I struggle to find my straps, then click them into place as I watch him do the same. The plane continues to bounce through the air, my nerves matching the frenetic tempo. Sensing my terror, his hand grabs mine and closes around it securely. “We’re going to be fine. Think of it like driving down a bumpy, country dirt road.”
I nod, my palm sweating against his. “If you say so. I think I much rather prefer nice, smooth cement.”
He lets out a guff of laughter, which is drowned out in the next second by an announcement from the flight staff, asking us to please buckle up and raise our tray tables for the remainder of what is expected to be a bumpy ride as we travel around a storm.
“I thought he said it was going to be a smooth flight?” I lament to no one in particular, my voice full of fear and just short of trill.
“Chloe, tell me about the job you’re interviewing for so I know what kind of questions to ask.” Fin’s deep voice, smooth and calm, reaches and pulls me out of my turbulence-infused meltdown.
“What?” I stare back at him, my mind a total blank.
“What’s the position? For your interview?” he repeats, his hand still around mine.
I look down at