“You’re quite the dedicated guy, aren’t you?”
“Guess so.”
“I admire that, Aidan.” She looked past him toward the aisle. “Thank God. My coffee’s here.”
“Your first cup?” He helped the flight attendant pass the steaming cup over to her.
“ ’Fraid so. I was a little rushed this morning.”
He started to say that explained a lot about her quick temper, but stopped himself.
“Ah, manna from heaven.” She closed her eyes and breathed in the vapors before taking a long, slow sip. “I think I’l live now.”
He couldn’t resist. “In coach they won’t get coffee until we reach altitude and level off.”
“Smart-ass.” She smiled. “I understand the appeal of sitting up here. Maybe I’m afraid I’l get used to it. You know, get spoiled.”
“Would that be so terrible?”
She studied him. “I think so. The money’s coming in now, but I’m a self-employed writer. There’s no guarantee the money will always be there. At this point, I haven’t made enough to keep me in first-class seats for the rest of my life.”
He stated what she had to be thinking. “Whereas I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth.”
“Pretty much.”
He nodded. “I’l own that. I’m probably spoiled.” He thought about the house where he’d grown up, a ten-bedroom mansion fil ed with original art. Maids, cooks, chauffeurs. His father was an investment genius, and the family had weathered a couple of recessions without suffering.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I’ve noticed that the people you employ are treated with respect and consideration. I’ve heard that the Wal ace family supports a whole raft of charities. I’m not dissing your situation. But it’s different from mine.”
She had no idea how different.
“My dad abandoned my mom when I was a baby, and she managed to raise me and keep a roof over our heads, but it was never easy.”
“I met your mom at the signing. She seems like an intel igent woman.”
Emma’s eyes lit up. “She is. She mentioned that she’d stopped to say hel o.
Listen, about Doug, my boyfriend, I—”
The plane’s engines revved up, cutting off the rest of what she’d been about to say. Knowing he’d have to shut down her BlackBerry any second, Aidan quickly glanced over Theo’s two e-mails.
Hear you’re coming to Chi-town, sweet thing. Looking forward to making that special connection, if you know what I mean. I’m still ...
Ready Fur U
Aidan scrolled to the next one.
Hey, there! Weres do it on all fours! Think about it. I’m always ...
Ready Fur U
Aidan ground some enamel off his back molars. Sure, Theo was just a kid, but even a kid could get himself and his fel ow Weres into deep trouble. That was Aidan’s intel ectual evaluation.
But the e-mails affected him at a deeper level. Emma was not his mate, would never be his mate. And yet any sexual interest from another male aroused every possessive instinct he had. Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing for the short term.
Theo might not cower before someone sent as Em-ma’s bodyguard. But he would cringe in fear if Aidan presented himself as Emma’s mate, a Were ready to defend her to the death. Aidan wasn’t certain he could play that role and then abandon it again on Sunday. Doing so could end the problem with Theo, though. He’d have to think about it.
“Sir,” the flight attendant said, “I’l have to ask you to turn off your phone.”
“Right.” He quickly put his cel number in a vacant speed dial position. Then he powered down the BlackBerry and handed it back to Emma as the attendant went through the seat-belt-and-flotation-device spiel. “You now have me on speed dial, letter z.”
“Oh.” She looked annoyed. “I guess that’s okay.”
“You can change it on Sunday afternoon.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
He settled back in his seat and tried to imagine himself running through the forest.
Flying made him uneasy, which was another reason for choosing first class.
Wolves weren’t meant to be suspended thirty thousand feet in the air. Flying made his ears hurt and dried out his sinuses. When he flew alone, he drowned out the engine noise by wearing top-grade earphones tuned to a medley of forest sounds, but that wouldn’t be happening today.
As they taxied down the runway, he gripped the armrests and swal owed.
Visualization wasn’t working for him this morning.
Emma must have noticed, because she glanced at him with undisguised curiosity.
“Aidan, are you afraid of flying?”
“No.”
“You are so! It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of people are spooked by the idea of being up in the air with no visible means of support.”
“Thanks for that description.” Aidan closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Each time he did this, he promised himself he’d try hypnosis next time. But he never remembered until it was too late and he was headed for the airport.
“I’ve found the best remedy is distraction,” Emma said. “So let’s talk about something unrelated to flying. How about the weather?”
Aidan groaned. “Ice on the wings. I’d forgotten about that. We could end up with ice on the wings, and we’d go down like a rock.”
“Okay, then politics. The world situation.”
“Terrorists. Somebody could be on the plane with a bomb, and we’d never know.
On a train or a bus, you have a fighting chance, but up in the air—”
“How about my love life? We could talk about that.”
Aidan opened his eyes and turned his head to stare at her. “You’re going to tel me about your love life?”
“See? You’re already distracted.”
“Go on.” It did help to focus on her. He couldn’t very Welltake her with him on every future flight, but for now, she was a great solution. “What about your love life?”
“You know that boyfriend I told you about?”
“Yes.” He knew way more about Dougie-boy than she could imagine.
“We’re taking a break from each other.”
Ah. It shouldn’t have mattered to him at al , but a surge of excitement told him it mattered, al right. “Since when?”
“Yesterday.”
“Emma, if this has anything to do with me, that’s not good, because I—”
“It does and it doesn’t. It does because I had such a great time on Wednesday night that I realized Doug and I might not be right for each other. So I thank you for that. We needed to take a break.”
“Look, if you’re thinking we might hook up, there are several reasons why that wouldn’t be a good idea.” Al he had to do was figure out which ones he could tel her without making her suspicious about his family.
She laughed. “You are so right about that. Several I can think of.”
“What do you mean?” He’d thought he’d have al the reasons on his side.
“Well, I’l be the first to admit that my next lover will be physical y more like you and less like Doug.”
“That’s flattering.” He sincerely doubted her next lover would be physical y anything like him.
“I can’t deny that I’m very attracted to you physical y. But I’m looking for someone who recycles the Sunday Times.”
“I do that.” Why he felt the need to mention it was beyond him. Besides, he only left instructions for his maid to recycle it, which might not count for as much in her book.
“I’m glad you do. Recycling is a smal thing, though. I need someone who rides the subway and flies coach, someone who has to think twice before he buys a ticket to a Broadway play and has to save for months in order to afford a tropical vacation.
The truth is, Aidan, gorgeous though you are, you’re too rich for my blood.”
Aidan tried to remember if any woman had said that to him in his life. Nope. None had. He had the impression that for most women, his money was an aphrodisiac.
They liked the luxuries it could provide—exotic getaways, fine food, sensual spa treatments. He wouldn’t date a woman who cared only about money, but enjoying the thril s money could buy wasn’t a crime. Except to Emma, apparently.
“I do believe I’ve shocked you, Aidan.”
“Could be.”
“Distracted you pretty Well, too, didn’t I? Look out the window. We’re airborne.”
He leaned past her to check that out, and sure enough, they’d lifted above the layer of winter clouds suspended over New York City. Leaning closer to her wasn’t such a good idea, though. Her scent fil ed his nostrils, and he remembered the way her lips had felt pressed against his on Wednesday night.
Turning slightly, he gazed into her eyes as a wave of lust moved through him.
“Too rich for your blood, huh?”
Her breath caught, and her lips parted slightly. “Yes.”
“And al along I thought you were too rich for mine.” With a supreme effort, he leaned back in his seat and stared straight ahead while he fought against the arousal that was making the backs of his hands prickle and his tailbone ache.
Shifting at thirty thousand feet would not be a good thing.
Chapter 6
Emma wasn’t always so quick on her mental feet, but she’d executed a nice two-step that time. She’d managed to tel Aidan the exact truth and restore her sense of dignity in one fel swoop. Nice work if she did say so.
She stil didn’t know where he stood. Those mixed signals continued to be mixed.
No matter. He knew where she stood, and that was a safe and sane distance away from him.
Discovering he was afraid of flying had given her another boost of confidence. Up to now she’d thought he was a perfect specimen, with no faults to speak of. A fear of flying didn’t make him any less manly or yummy, but it did make him human.
Unsnapping her lap belt, she leaned over and pul ed her computer case out from under the seat in front of her. Now would be a good time to flip open her laptop and present a picture of the working writer. She doubted she’d get much done sitting next to Aidan’s hunky self, but he wouldn’t know whether she was working or composing a letter.
Best of al , he wouldn’t be inclined to start a conversation while she was typing.
She was happy with the current balance of power, and another discussion might upset it. He affected her more than she wanted him to know, but the good news was that it cut both ways.
After booting up her computer, she had to come up with something to type and decided she might as Wellbrainstorm ideas for her next book. She’d never considered whether werewolves would mind flying, but logical y they wouldn’t be very Wellsuited to it. So far as she knew, no furry creature enjoyed the change in air pressure, the noise, or the smel of jet fuel.
She could create a plot that would require her hero to overcome his resistance to flying in order to save the her**ne from something or other. Maybe she was a bush pilot in Alaska. That worked. She could crash-land in a remote area populated by a pack of werewolves. Maybe she’d be hurt in such a way that she’d have to teach the hero-werewolf how to fly or she’d be forever stranded there.
As the story outline took shape, she found herself on a rol . Instead of being distracted by Aidan sitting next to her, she was inspired by his solid presence and his scent. Yes, his actual scent, which she stil couldn’t identify, despite al these close encounters.
Aidan had taken out his computer, too, and was looking through some files. One quick glance told her it was some sort of spreadsheet. At some point she admitted that this was very nice, riding up in first class, where a person could get a glass of juice anytime. She liked having room to work on a laptop without being squished, and she most especial y liked sitting beside a man who smel ed as good as Aidan.
But she’d meant what she’d said. Despite enjoying the heck out of this experience today, she was only gathering material for her research. She wrote about rich people, as Wellas middle-class and poor people. Hanging out with Aidan temporarily would help her write a more realistic rich person.
From the corner of her eye, she studied his hands. They looked strong and supple, with a light dusting of hair over the backs. His nails were neatly trimmed, maybe by a manicurist. He had no cuts or scratches on his hands and no visible cal uses, which made sense. He was a businessman, not a laborer.
His cheeks were perfectly shaved, too, and his hair trimmed as if he had it done every few days. Wal ace Enterprises probably had a barber on staff. The rich, or at least this rich family, appeared to be Well-groomed.
“Like what you see?” His cheek creased in a smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”
“That’s okay.” He glanced at her. “My ego loves it.”
“I have a research question, in case I want to create a character who’s rich.”
Laughter danced in his golden eyes. “The PC word is wealthy. ”
“Is that so? Then why was there a TV show cal ed Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous?”
“Easier to market, maybe, but trust me—the word people with money actual y use is wealthy.”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with rich. It’s short, to the point, punchy. Hemingway would have liked it a lot better than wealthy. ”
Aidan powered down his laptop and closed the cover. “Are you sure about that?
Because if you use rich to mean that someone has a lot of money, what can you use to describe a thick wedge of chocolate cake with dark chocolate frosting?”
“Decadent.”
“You’re using three syl ables when one syl able would do.”
“Okay, then. Moist. And thanks a lot, because now I want some of that, and there goes my diet.” She loved talking words, but she didn’t meet too many men who would debate language choice with her.