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It had been a long time since she indulged her sweet tooth. She hungered in a way that made a craving for chocolate pale in response.
Unconsciously, her tongue licked over her lips. She pursed the perfect pout of her mouth together and pantomimed a kiss.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t an accident he was staring back now. But she wanted him. Needed him. She had to have him.
Taking a long breath, she let her chest fill. Her breasts swelled under the hold of the tight blouse and shook with the release. Yes, she was depending on him watching now.
Running her tongue over the upper lip to encompass first one tip of the cupid bow, then the other, until she reached the edge, then swooped down over the thickness of her lower pout. She watched his eyes track her. Bite Me Strawberry was the color of the bright red lipstick she wore, and she wanted him to—bite her, that is.
Eyebrows lifted. Thick, dark and temptingly soft-looking male eyebrows arched high into his forehead as if reading her mind.
“Gorgeous,” she sighed. Leaning forward, she let the button on her blouse strain. The material gapped to show the sheer lace bra beneath. Never in all of her days had she been so grateful she was wearing her push-up. The things Wonderbra did for her breasts was beyond tempting, it was downright damnable. Of course, she would not have it any other way.
“Excuse me, miss.”
It was the porter. She did not let her eye contact with the muscular hunk waver.
“Miss. You are being paged.”
“Am I? By who?” She was curious enough to give the porter her full attention. She broke her eye contact.
“Didn’t say, miss.”
“How do you know I am a miss?”
“No ring.”
She smiled at him. “That’s not always accurate.”
“Should I say Mrs.?”
“No. Not married. Where do I answer this page?”
“Over there, miss. In the Airline Club. Across the way, through the door and first room on the right.”
“You wouldn’t be accompanying me?”
“No, miss.”
Opening her Prada, she fished inside for a tip. A five and a twenty came out. She stuffed the twenty back in and gave the porter a five.
“Thank you, miss.”
Nodding her head, she gathered her possessions. After finding her Hermès scarf on the ground, she shook it to rid the silk of airport dust and stood.
Her man was gone. She felt her facial features pull into an unattractive expression and forced herself to release it. She sighed. “Figures.”
Setting off in the direction bid, she wondered what the issue was. Did work track her down, because s
he refused to turn on her cell or bring a BlackBerry? Was it her family? Did the airline have an issue? Questions rattled in her brain.
As she pushed through the last door, she could not help freezing in her tracks. Nothing could have prepared her for this. It was him. “You?”
“Yes.” His voice was deep, melodic and rich. The image of sugar warmed with butter came unbidden again and she licked her lips.
He walked toward her and his stride was long, graceful. The play of muscles was extraordinary and her mouth opened slightly.
Hands pulled her purse from her, the travel bag, and her coat. Her arms were suddenly empty save for the silk scarf which he drew around her waist to pull her closer.
