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“Of course,” she says chirpily.
My nerves turn to bubbles of anticipation.
God, I love him so much. I could swoon from the shivers that run up my spine just thinking about seeing him again.
“I’m Victoria, and I’m one of three crew on board this flight. May I take your bag?” I hand her the small carry-on I’m rolling behind. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” She smiles like she means it. “You can make yourself comfortable in the main cabin. On the other side of the rear wall, there’s a master bedroom with a queen-sized bed and en suite bathroom that you can use to freshen up if you’d like. We only ask that you remain seated during takeoff and landing. You can help yourself to any of the refreshments we’ve laid out. And there’s a menu tucked into the pockets on the side of your seat. Mr. Davis already ordered your lunch, but feel free to peruse in case you’d like us to prepare anything else.” She rattles off her spiel and somehow manages to make it sound like I’m the first and only person she’s ever said it to.
“Thank you.” I smile pleasantly and slip out of my coat and run my hand down the front of my white dress and smooth my hair down.
I step inside the cabin and stop dead in my tracks. My trust income provides me with a very handsome living and the gallery turns a healthy profit every month, but for me, traveling in style means upgrading to first class. This plane is the epitome of luxury. I step into what looks more like an elegantly decorated living room than it does a plane. A pair of cream sofas, both littered with red cushions face each other in the center of the room. On the left of the cabin, under a row of large windows, is a long table. It is lined with platters of food and every kind of bottled drink ever made. Behind it is a booth, like what you’d find in a restaurant, except the cushions are royal blue velvet trimmed with gold brocade and the table in between is a glass top and set with very formal place settings. On the other side of the room is a bar. Fully stocked with four stools in front of it.
The room has a wall that has a door on either side. A huge television is mounted on it. A message is displayed on teh screen. “Welcome aboard the Dream Jet, Mr. Davis and Ms. Locklear. Our flight time today is three hours and twenty-five minutes. We will land in Miami at approximately two p.m. pacific standard time. Your drive to Islamorada will be approximately two hours.”
We’re going to Islamorada. And we’ll be on the plane alone for three hours.
I walk over to the row of white leather and red trimmed chairs that face the screen, sit down, cross my legs, and wait.
Thirty minutes later, I’ve made myself crazy and feel like I’m coming out of my skin. I jump up every time I heard a voice from the galley. All I’ve succeeded in doing is making myself look like I’m high on amphetamines and terrifying the poor crew members I’ve practically pounced on. After the fourth time, Victoria brings me a glass of wine. That was three glasses ago. I’ve chewed my bottom lip raw. My hair, which when I’d boarded was fabulously blown out, is now gathered into a messy bun on top of my head.
“Graham, I’m at the airport,” I say as soon as the call engages.
“I know, Sunshine.” I scream and toss my phone in the air before I pop out my seat and turn around.
Graham is standing in the doorway that leads to the galley of the plane. My chest is heaving with excitement and anxiety as I take him in. He’s wearing a dark green cable knife sweater that accentuates the broad set of shoulders and the gradual tapering of his waist where his lean hips are, and long, strong legs are encased in dark denim. His hair is held back in a bun, and his beard is gone. He looks good enough to climb. He clears his throat, and my eyes fly back to his face where he’s watching me with a raised eyebrow.
“Like what you see?” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall.
“A lot.” I square my shoulders and lift my chin, and his eyes scan me from head to toe. My white patent leather pointed toe Jimmy Choos are the exact color of my dress. Despite the freezing temperature, I kept my legs bare. His gaze is leisurely lingering where it wants. As it drifts past my hips, my thighs clench, my stomach muscles contract and then my nipples tighten when his icy gray perusal lingers on them.
When he finally reaches my eyes, I’m struggling not to squirm at the banked heat in his gaze. I feel a flush creeping up my neck, and I brush the stray hairs off my neck.
“Mr. Davis, Ms. Locklear.” Victoria’s head pokes into the cabin.
We both start slightly and share a small smile, his is full of wicked promise, before we reluctantly turn to look at her.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she flushes and drops her gaze to the carpeted floor briefly before she looks back at us. Her smile is composed again.
“We’re going to be taking off in just a few minutes. Can you take your seats and buckle up? As soon as we’re airborne, you’ll be free to use the plane as you wish. May I offer you another drink before we take off?”
“Can I please have a glass of water?” I ask her.
“I’m fine for now,” he tells her.
“Okay, you buckle in, and I’ll pour you a glass of water.” ‘Than--” His phone rings and he holds up a finger and walks over to sit.
I smile weakly at the buzzkilling Victoria and take my seat next to Graham’s.
He’s got his phone to his ear. “Hey, Dean. Yeah, it was good. Apollo and I are headed to Islamorada for the weekend. Hold off on sending that letter until I get back. My flight’s taking off. I’ll call you when I land. Bye.”
He turns to look at me. “I’m tired. I want to close my eyes for half an hour, okay?” he asks and I yawn, too.
“Sounds good.” I’ve just closed my eyes when his hand touches my arm.
I turn my sleepy eyes toward him and suck in a sharp breath at intense expression in his eyes.
“When we wake up, I’m going to ta
