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Anna cleared her throat. “Yes.”
“Didn’t find what you wanted on your computer?”
She shook her head. “I only wish.”
“Same here.” He closed the cover of his and put it away. “I’m going to a meeting that will almost surely be a complete waste of time.”
“Sounds like my story.” She gave a little laugh. “Don’t you just hate that kind of thing?”
“I despise it,” he said, nodding in agreement. “There’s nothing worse than having to sit across the table from a guy who can’t figure out he’s absolutely not going to accomplish anything.”
“Exactly. It’s so useless.” Anna sighed. “Actually, what I’d like to do is walk into my meeting and say, ‘Okay, this is pointless. I’m going to turn around and go home and if you have half a brain, so will you.’”
He chuckled. “Yes, but if the idiot really had half a brain, he wouldn’t be there, eating up your time in the first place.”
Anna grinned. “Exactly.”
“That’s life, isn’t it? Things don’t always work out as one expects.”
“No, they don’t.” She hesitated. It was the perfect segue, and she took it. “Which brings me to offering my thanks for this seat. I should have said it sooner, but—”
“Yes,” he said, “you should have.”
“Now, wait a minute …”
He laughed. “Just teasing. This was my fault, too. I overreacted when you first asked for the seat. How about we call it even? I’ll apologize if you will.”
Anna laughed, too. “You’re not a lawyer, are you?”
He gave a mock shudder. “Dio, no. Why do you ask?”
“Because you have a way with words.”
“It’s what I do,” he said, smiling. “I’m a negotiator.” What better way to describe fashioning deals that made him millions and millions of dollars and euros? “So, do we have a truce?”
He held out his hand. Anna took it—and jerked back. An electric current seemed to flow from his fingers to hers.
“Static electricity,” she said quickly. “Or something.”
“Or something,” he said, and all at once his voice was low and husky.
Their eyes met. His were dark, deep, fathomless. Anna felt he
r heartbeat stutter. I’m tired, she thought quickly. I must be terribly tired or everything wouldn’t seem so—so—
“Would you like to see the wine list?”
It was the flight attendant, her smile perfect, her voice bright and bubbly, though Anna had to give her credit for not having reacted to the sight of a refugee from coach slipping into the cabin an hour or so before.
“Champagne,” said the man still holding her hand, his gaze never leaving hers. “Unless you’d rather have something else?”
“No,” Anna said quickly. “No, champagne would be lovely.”
“Lovely,” he said, and Anna wondered why she’d ever thought him cold or arrogant.
They drank champagne. In flutes. Glass flutes, not plastic. Switched to red wine, also in glasses, when dinner was served—served on china, with real flatware and real linen napkins.
Being in first class wasn’t bad.
