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Our eyes lock, and it's like the whole cabin fades away. There's just me and him, with that strong jawline and hands that look like they could easily find their way around a...
I swallow.
"Safe travels, Miss Woodbridge," he finally says, but his eyes—they're still chatting me up, making promises without words.
"Thanks, Captain," I blush as I make my way back to my seat, feeling his gaze on me every step of the way. The little hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, and I can't help but think this flight just got a heck of a lot more interesting.
I've tucked myself into a plush seat, the hum of the engines a steady lullaby, when I see him approach. Ben strolls down the aisle with the kind of swagger that comes from a thousand successful landings.
"Miss Woodbridge," he greets me, his voice as smooth as the top-shelf whiskey they serve up here. "Hope you don't mind me dropping by."
"Of course not." I flash him a smile that's a blend of Hollywood charm and private intrigue. "It's not every day you get a personal visit from the pilot."
He leans against the seat across from mine, the epitome of casual elegance in his crisp uniform. "I couldn't help overhearing you're working on a new film. Anything you can share, or is it all hush-hush?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" I tease, crossing my legs and enjoying the way his eyes briefly follow the movement. "Let's just say it's a role with...layers. Like an onion—makes you cry but you can't stay away."
"Sounds intriguing," Ben says with a chuckle. "And challenging. But then again, I suspect you enjoy a good challenge."
"Guilty as charged," I admit, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "But enough about me, Captain. What's the most daring thing you've ever done? And no fair saying 'flying a plane' because we both know that's a Tuesday for you."
Ben smiles, and there's a twinkle in his eye that suggests he has stories that could rival any script I've read. "Well, there was this one time I flew a Hollywood starlet around..."
I laugh.
His eyes are like warm caramel, drawing me in, stirring something low in my belly.
"Let's see...There was the time a passenger proposed mid-flight. Had the whole cabin in tears."
"Aw, a romantic," I say, heart fluttering a bit. This flight's turning into more than just a means to an end. It's becoming a scene straight out of the romance flicks I swore I'd never do—but damn if I'm not considering signing up for one now. "You ever get tempted? To just...jet off somewhere exotic with someone you barely know?"
"Every day," he admits, and our gazes lock. It's a look that feels full of promises, the kind that could lead to tangled sheets or racing hearts—or both.
"Your turn," he says, breaking the tension with a grin. "Share a slice of Kate Woodbridge life. What's one thing you've done that would shock the tabloids?"
"Besides entertaining a handsome stranger at this altitude?" My voice is light, but there's truth woven into the tease. "Well, once, I snuck into a music festival undercover. No bodyguards, no glam squad. Just me, lost in a sea of sweat and beats. It was...liberating."
"Sounds like it." Ben leans back, chuckles low and inviting. "Maybe after we land, you can sneak away with me."
"Maybe," I echo, the word hanging between us like a promise waiting to be kept.
“Well, I’d better get back to the cockpit. Check on my co-pilot.” He rises reluctantly, and I try to hide my pout as he leaves.
And then I blink because holy fuck. Has a man ever affected me this way?
We go on the rest of the flight that way. His visits become more frequent, excuses thinner, but I don't mind. Not when every pass by my seat sends shivers down my spine. Not when every shared story adds another layer to the mystery that is Ben Caldwell, the man who's quickly becoming my favorite co-star in this high-flying romance.
The hum of the aircraft is a steady backdrop to the buzzing in my veins as I settle back into the plush seat. The first-class cabin feels more like a cocoon now, intimate and with a hint of something I can't quite name. Maybe it's anticipation. Maybe it's desire.
I glance over to where Ben has just re-entered the cockpit, his stride confident, his smile lingering in my direction before he disappears behind the door. My heart does this little skip—a beat out of rhythm, dancing to a tune that's all about him.
As the flight resumes, I find myself peering down the aisle, hoping for another glimpse. It's ridiculous. I'm Kate Woodbridge, for heaven's sake—I shouldn't be getting giddy over a pilot's smile, no matter how dashing it is.
"Something to drink, Ms. Woodbridge?"
It's one of the flight attendants, her eyes kind, but I wave her off with a small smile. "No, thank you." I need to keep my head clear. But oh, how I crave something stronger than water to quell the fluttering in my stomach.
The moments stretch on, each minute ticking by heavy with unspoken words and what-ifs. And then, there he is again, stepping out from his holy sanctuary like some sort of guardian angel in navy blue. But angels don't look at you like that—like they're undressing you with their eyes and finding every secret you've ever kept.
