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A quizzical expression replaced the agent’s ear-to-ear grin. “I’m sorry. I assumed you knew. You have been upgraded to first class. Super first class, actually.” She held out her hand, taking charge of Roberta’s overnight tote.
“I didn’t know there was a ‘super first class’,” Roberta replied, moving faster now, her burden lightened. “And how did I warrant it, anyway?” The only airline she had a frequent flier account with was Southwest. It didn’t give her clout on United as far as she knew.
At the fuselage door, they were met by two flight attendants who took her carry-ons and stowed them for her. They directed her into a butter-soft leather seat and clucked over her like a single chick in a full hen house.
“Would you like a beverage, Ms. Kove? Champagne?”
Roberta nodded. A flute of bubbly was placed on her adorable little tray along with a china plate of cheese, real fresh fruit, and crackers. Before touching any of it, she waved the attendant over to her. “Are you sure you got the right person? Roberta Kove?”
“Oh yes! Your traveling companion will be the last person to board the plane. Don’t worry. We’ll close the privacy curtain before he boards.” She smiled broadly as one of her hands patted her hair in place.
Her nerves heightened; her heart raced. Would Taylor be so presumptuous as to invite himself to her house after a week of giving her the cold shoulder?
Other passengers began to board. Looks of curiosity and some malice stung as they passed by.Maybe that was the point. Maybe he wanted to see what I was really up to?The alcohol churned in her stomach, burning all through the boarding process.
At last, the attendants made a flourish of closing the privacy curtains, then lined up before the fuselage door to greet the last passenger. His beaming celebrity smile seemed to arrive before he set foot on the plane. The ladies gushingly welcomed him aboard while she and the other first-class passengers watched in stunned silence. From the blazer over the dark T-shirt to his designer jeans and sneakers, he looked the stereotypical part of the Hollywood star, including the sunglasses now perched on the top of his head. Hair combed in a reckless swag across his forehead focused all the more attention on his brilliant teal blue eyes taking in everyone in the compartment.
Roberta stared, a flutter in her core despite her annoyance, as he laid on the charm. The flight attendants fawned all over him. Given the option, they might have carried him over to his seat, buckled him in themselves, fighting over the privilege. After taking his jacket and allowing him to settle into his seat, they retreated a minute. Like the Magi, all three paraded a gift to him: a flute of champagne, a fruit and cheese plate, and a newspaper before the last two attendants slipped beyond the privacy curtain like dejected beauty contestants.
Not to be forgotten, the captain came back from the cockpit. He blustered through a brief welcome speech before asking for an autograph for his daughter, promising a safe flight, then barricading himself into the cockpit again.
This whole time, Taylor had not glanced her way nor dared meet her eyes. Roberta’s hands itched to circle his throat for no other reason than to choke an explanation out of him. The flight attendant refilled his empty glass with fresh champagne. She walked away without refilling Roberta’s. When Taylor glanced away, Roberta switched their glasses.
He reached for his glass when his attention returned to the newspaper in his lap. Sipping air, he turned toward her, a hint of a smirk on his face at her blatant audacity.
Roberta sipped the half-empty flute, ignoring him as she flipped through a magazine.
“Did you steal my glass?” Taylor leaned over, whispering in her ear.
“Oh, would I do a thing like that?” The magazine pages flipped violently, crinkling and rustling. She kept her eyes on the pages though she saw nothing but the steam probably coming from her own ears. “Don’t worry, you’ll have more in no time. Just smile at the flight attendant one more time.” The chopped staccato of her words, low so only he could hear, felt like automatic pistol shots coming out of her throat.
“Roberta.” The sound of her name on his lips was like honey. Her anger seeped away into the leather seat cushion, and she tried to pull it back so she could tell him off. But there wasn’t any left. It had evaporated at the sound of her name on his lips.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered, staring him straight in the eye.
To his credit, he didn’t flinch. Nor did he blink or look away. “I decided to join you. In case you need help. With your house.” His teal blue eyes held hers.
An ache rose in her core, spreading throughout her body. “And where are you staying?” she asked, eyes still locked with his.
“Beside you.” He kissed her. The taste of champagne on his lips and the taste of fresh strawberries and Mascarpone on hers were a heady combination. She couldn’t do or think or say anything. Not for a while, as it took her breath away. This was sonotwhat she had expected. The softness and sweet tang fueled her desire for more after nearly six days without so much as a peck. Their lips came together again, more insistent this time. She fought the urge to climb into his lap as the plane turned on the runway for take-off. The thrust of acceleration tore them apart, panting and spellbound. Their hands had come together, fingers interwoven. Taylor brought her hand to his lips, flicked his tongue across the center of the back of her hand, and planted a kiss over the spot.
“I’m not sure,” she started to say, but her voice cracked. She cleared her throat then tried to continue. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Besides, aren’t you supposed to keep it ‘under the radar’?”
He craned his neck to look at her, a furrow deep between his brows. “Screw the media clause in the contract. The hell with it. Laurel can fix it if it needs fixing. I want to be there to help you any way I can.”
“If you really want to help me, give my manuscript back.”
“No can do yet.”
“Then what makes you think you can stay at my place? Maybe I’m not feeling so benevolent.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow.
Roberta shook her head as if trying to shake off the turbulence settling in her at the thought of him in her home and still refusing to return what he had stolen. “I don’t know what condition I’m going to find my house in. There’s no water, remember? I don’t think Erica is trashing the place in my absence, but she is a college senior this year. It’s her last year to sow her oats.”
“And it’s easier to sow them with a whole house to yourself,” he added matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry. I understand. I’ll take us to the nearest hotel if we can’t stay there.”
With her teeth clamped tight, all Roberta could do was nod in agreement. She settled in for the flight, unsure what she would find at her home, pleased Taylor would be beside her to face it, and yet still pissed about her manuscript.
