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‘Have I ever told you that you snore?’
Warmth invades my face. ‘I know. I have mild asthma.’
He grins and takes the seat beside mine. My body is instantly aware of him and my brain is pretty pissed off at the rapid response.
I shift a little, looking down at my watch. I must have slept for over an hour. I blink, opening the world clock function on my phone. It’s six o’clock in Sydney, which means I want to be tired—not refreshed after a quick nap on the flight.
Silence stretches between us. Debbie, one of his flight attendants, clips out efficiently, ‘We’ll be touching down on schedule. Can I get you anything before we land?’
‘Water, thanks.’ I smile at her, turning my attention back to the papers I’d been reading.
Well, half my attention. A quarter of it. A sliver. The tiny part that’s not completely drawn to Jack and his nearness and his hypermasculine fragrance. The part of me that isn’t all wrapped up in the way he’s sitting, legs spread, arms relaxed, body warm and large and so close I could push out of my seat and sit on his lap. Unzip his pants and take him.
God. I want that.
‘Dr Pepper.’
His response to Debbie’s question shakes the desire from my mind, but he looks at me and my toes curl. Does he guess what I’m thinking?
I tap my pen against the side of the page I’m reading in an attempt to focus my thoughts in a more appropriate direction.
But Jack reaches across, his hand curling over mine. My pulse goes into overdrive.
‘Did you have a good weekend?’ he asks.
I laugh. I can’t help it. A short, sharp sound of weary frustration. ‘Yeah.’
He nods, and a frown pulls at his lips. ‘I don’t know how to speak to you now.’
And I feel sorry for him. Sorry for me. Because we’re both in the middle of a patch of uncertainty too wide to navigate.
‘I’m still me.’
‘But it’s different.’
‘Yeah... I don’t know if you ever asked me about my weekend before we had sex together.’
I lower my voice as Debbie walks back into the cabin. She places a glass of water on my side table and a can of soda on Jack’s.
As Debbie disappears once more he winks at me. ‘It’s cherry flavour.’
Damn him. He knows what he’s doing to me.
My pulse fires and I give him a tight half-smile before returning my attention to the document I’m partway through reading.
‘You’ve got a breakfast meeting at seven o’clock with the mayor. While you’re with him I’m going to be going over the premises. Then I’ll meet with your Australian CEO, Clint Sheridan, to touch base on recruitment matters. The broker for the New Zealand deal is meeting us for lunch at Aria, and Clint’s asked you to his place for dinner, with a few of the other executives.’
‘Asked us, you mean,’ he corrects, his eyes hooked to mine.
I frown. ‘It’s just social. You don’t need me—’
‘I want you there,’ he says firmly, and I remember that he is actually my boss.
Plus, if it weren’t for the fact that we’ve had sex I wouldn’t have ever thought of not going. It’s my own way of not blurring the lines, but he sees right through it.
‘You’ve done most of this deal. You should be there.’
I pull my lips to the side thoughtfully. ‘Sure.’
