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Darla set the book down. No enemies or even friends. That passage was just a little too close to what she wanted to happen with Blake. This was so not the answer to resisting Blake Nelson. She reached for the bag of chocolate and unwrapped a piece, not looking at Blake, but she could feel him looking at her. She was about to stick the first Hershey’s kiss into her mouth when the plane jolted. She yelped and the candy—the piece in her hand, and the entire bag—went flying.
Blake captured the bag and pushed her tray up, turning her toward him again. “Turbulence is nothing to worry about. Once you’ve been on a few really bad flights you realize just how much a plane can take.”
The attendant rushed over to them. “Everything okay?”
“Is it?” Darla asked.
“Of course, honey,” she said. “Bumps are normal. It’s August. This time of year, hot air pockets create turbulence.”
“You’re sure?” Darla asked, watching her expression closely for signs she, indeed, was not sure but didn’t want to say as much.
“I’m positive.”
“Two more mimosas when you can, please,” Blake said, his focus on Darla. “If you get drunk, I promise to get you to your room, and I won’t take advantage of you, no matter how much I want to.”
3
HE WOULDN’T TAKE ADVANTAGE of her, no matter how muchhe wanted to. That was the statement Blake had made that had opened the door ofpossibility for Darla, the one that spoke of honor, of a good man. Maybe shereally had misjudged him. Maybe she was so conditioned to believe she alwayschose the wrong men that she was looking for flaws in Blake unfairly.
“Here you go,” the flight attendant said. “Two moremimosas.”
Blake passed Darla her drink and kept one for himself.
“Actually,” Darla said. “I think we need to even the stakeshere. I’ve had two. These two are yours.”
He arched a brow and then eased his shoulder back into theseat, still facing her, his voice low and intimate. “I really will take care ofyou if you want to drink that.”
“I believe you. How old is your sister? Younger or older?”
“Younger by five years,” he said. “She’s twenty-seven.”
“And here I thought the wrong man syndrome was a curse for showbusiness types. Maybe it’s the curse of the twenty-seven-year-olds.”
“I love the hell out of my sister, but she has issues waybeyond age. Namely, she needs to act hers—but that’s a long story that wouldrequire a few extra mimosas. And you and I, well, we aren’t exactly in anindustry that’s relationship friendly. It’s populated with a lot of people whoare out for number one. That has to be different from the life you were livingas the Colorado rancher’s daughter.”
“I still live life as a Colorado rancher’s daughter,” she said.“And the minute this business makes me something else, I’m out.”
“You might not know when it happens,” he suggested. “Mostpeople don’t.”
“My family will know and they’ll knock some sense into me.”
He smiled. “Same with mine.”
“You’re close to your family?”
“Very. It was my father’s investment strategies that got mehere to begin with. I started doing YouTube investment segments about the stockmarket while I was in college, which began with too much tequila and a dare.” Helifted his glass and took a sip. “Luckily I handle my alcohol better atthirty-two than I did at twenty-one. The first video was such a hit that I keptdoing them, and somehow, someone who mattered saw them and the rest is history.That’s how I ended up writing that handbook for investing in the stock marketand why it’s a regular feature on my show.”
“You highlight stocks on your show and I highlight romancenovels,” she observed. “Like night and day.”
“Which is why there’s an audience for both of us,” he said.“Sometimes people want business advice and sometimes they just need to escape.Sometimes the same person might want one thing one day and the other thenext.”
She’d thought the same thing many times. “You’ll never convincemy network of that. They want me to take you down.”
His eyes—so brilliantly blue—twinkled with mischief. “And whatabout you? Do you want to take me down?”
“After you made a fool of me on your show, I did,” sheadmitted.
“I didn’t—”
“I’m willing to accept that maybe—just maybe—you weren’tresponsible for what happened,” she conceded.
“Maybe?”
“That’s all you’re getting from me right now.”
“It’s better than the outright hatred I got from you earlier,so I’ll take the maybe.” He downed the drink. “You know, this is a three-hourflight. You can drink another mimosa and still not have to worry about whathappens when we get off the plane.”
She was more worried about what wouldn’t happen if she drank.Meaning, she wanted him to know that if their flirtation went beyond thisflight, she was clear-headed. Not that she was planning to do anything with thisman. Still…options were good.
She took his empty glass from him and handed him her full one.“I’ll consider another drink when you’re one up on me.”
