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Heat flared in Beth's cheeks.
Eyes wide with curiosity, Claire leaned in. “Oh my God, did you sleep with him?”
“No!” She straightened in her chair, putting as much distance as possible between her and her best friend. The words tumbled out anyway. “We kissed. That's all. It didn't mean a thing.”
Claire shook her head, sending her auburn hair waving around her shoulders. “Yep, keep telling yourself that, Beth.”
The alarm on her cellphone vibrated and she swiped it off the tabletop. “Come on, we gotta head out to the airport. Thanks again for dropping me off.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” Claire grabbed her plate and Beth's empty coffee cup and placed them on the counter before they walked out the door. “You know, Hank's leaving tomorrow for
a boys' poker trip to Vegas. Chris and Sam are already out there. God, I can't imagine what trouble my three brothers are going to cook up.” She grinned at Beth. “Maybe you'll run into him. It would be the perfect opportunity to ask for help in a neutral environment, and you know, if things happen to get all hot and heavy…”
Beth yanked open the car door and slid into the passenger seat. “That is not going to happen.” She snapped her seat belt closed.
Claire plopped down into the driver's seat. “Mmm-hmmm. We'll see.”
“Don't even think about it.”
Pure deviousness crinkled the corner of Claire's brown eyes. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” She turned on the radio and started singing along to an old Motown song in an off-key voice that should only be heard in the shower.
Giggling, Beth joined in, her own voice as jarringly out of tune as her friend's. Somewhere in Dry Creek, the dogs had to be howling along with them.
After a short car ride to the regional airport, a quick check-in at the kiosk and an uncomfortable groping from the security agent, Beth climbed the stairs of the small commercial jet.
Walking down the narrow walkway between the seats, she kept her gaze glued to the seat numbers for twelve-A. There it was, two rows up, a window seat. Things were looking up.
The woman in front of her stowed a carry-on bag in the overhead storage, then sat down, giving Beth a view of the coach passengers buckling in. Her stomach did a triple flip.
Hank looked up at her from twelve-B. “You wouldn’t be stalking me now, would you? Because I probably wouldn’t mind.”
Chapter Seven
The fates were against her.
Beth's black skirt suddenly felt two sizes too small as heat spread through her limbs. Her stomach sank and fluttered at the same time and she double-checked her seat assignment. Twelve-A. Damn.
“You sitting down or what, lady?” The short guy in a business suit behind her not-so-gently nudged her with his oversized carry on, hitting her square in the ass. She flashed him a dirty look and took in the size of his suitcase. The zipper looked about to pop. There was no way in hell that thing would fit in the overhead compartment.
“Hold your horses, I'm moving.” But her feet, encased in pointed-toed black heels, refused to go forward.
The line got restless behind her and the grumbling increased. Only a handful of empty seats remained in coach. Judging by the number of grumpy people still in line, switching seats wasn't going to be an option. Time to put on her big-girl panties and suck it up. The flight was only two hours. She could handle that. Right?
She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I don't know how you managed to make this happen.”
“Just luck, I guess.” Amusement flashed across Hank’s face and he sat up straight in the aisle seat. “Do you need me to get out or can you squeeze by?”
Beth steeled herself. “I can get by.”
There was just enough space for her to shuffle through, but not by much. Her bare calves brushed his knees and she faltered for a moment, grabbing the headrest of the seat in front.
Grasping her hips, he steadied her. Each of his long fingers burned an imprint through her skirt and onto her sensitive skin. Body on high alert and anticipating pleasure, she shivered under his touch. His fingers tightened, his thumbs pressing into the tender top curve of her ass. A strangled sound, half groan and half sigh, escaped her lips.
Like a siren blaring in the far-off distance, the audible proof of her arousal brought her back to reality. Embarrassed he could do this to her so easily and in the middle of a packed airplane, she ignored her instinct to lower herself onto his lap.
“Steady there.” Hank's voice had gone husky. His fingers flexed over the thin material of her skirt.
“I'm fine. Thank you.” The words came out in a shaky whisper.
