Cold.
Untouchable.
Forbidding.
Those words described Jackson Whitman perfectly. It was the way he wanted to be viewed. It was safe—it protected him. After the loss of his daughter, he was done. Done with love. Done with playing nice. Done with it all.
People skirted around him, steered clear. Most people, that is. Certainly not his meddling family, who couldn’t get it through their heads that he was now a lone wolf and preferred it that way. Of course, if they ever actually gave up on him, would he like that? He wanted to think that he would, but he knew the truth, knew he needed them. No one, however, would ever hear him say those words aloud.
Okay, he didn’t need companionship; he didn’t need long talks or people to be in his face. Sex, on the other hand—oh, yes, that need bubbled up inside him like molten lava boiling for an eternity in the confines of the earth, begging for release.
Right now, sex should be the last thing on his mind, but his neighbor, the woman he’d just managed to elbow, was making him unable to think of anything else. As he took in her pale blue eyes, sleek yet curvy body, silky reddish-blond hair, and ripe parted lips, sex was his only thought. Thrusting that thought away, he opened his mouth to apologize when her lips turned from an O to a smile.
“Well, that’s certainly a new greeting,” she said with a chuckle.
What the hell was she talking about? “Excuse me?”
“An apology would be expected, but you don’t seem to be the sort of man who goes around apologizing, if your interaction with the airline employee is any indication of how you normally speak to strangers.”
She wasn’t being rude, exactly. She was just being . . . he couldn’t quite put his finger on what the hell she was being. Jackson was used to women batting their eyelashes, licking their lips, leaning in to give him a clear invitation with a close-up of their cleavage. He wasn’t used to anyone mocking him. It took him several silent seconds to form two words.
“I apologize.”
“Wow. You really need to work on that.”
Again he was floored. It was just as she’d said: he practically never apologized for anything. And she’d just thrown his sincere—all right, maybe not completely sincere, but still . . . She’d just thrown the words back at him without even a nod of her head indicating acceptance.
“It wasn’t as if I intentionally elbowed you,” he pointed out.
“I would hope not, since we don’t know each other, and I’ve never done anything to warrant being hit by you,” she said, the same grin in place.
“No woman should ever be hit.” He wasn’t amused.
“Ah, so you’re a gentleman.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” And miraculously, he felt his lips turning up just the slightest bit. Sheesh, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled. Too much had happened in the past five years to make him feel like grinning.
“That’s good to know, Mr. Whitman.”
How did she know his name? Suspicion entered Jackson’s thoughts. Then he remembered the rep who’d been busy kissing his ass. Airlines annoyed him. He hated flying commercial, preferring to use his jet, but one of his brothers was using it this week, and he’d had little choice but to come to Paris any way he could. He’d have put the trip off, but with the holidays, he’d been under certain pressing deadlines.
Now, inevitably, the flight was delayed, and here he was, sitting next to a distressingly intriguing woman. Dammit. Jackson didn’t want to be intrigued, but it seemed as if his body had taken the reins from his brain.
That she’d mocked him gave him a measure of respect for her. It was refreshing to have a conversation with a woman who knew nothing about him, seemed to want nothing from him. He was tempted to change her mind on that front.
He loved sex.
Sex was healthy. It was vital. It’s what kept this pathetic population going like the Energizer Bunny. Maybe this delay wouldn’t end up being such an awful thing after all. But Jackson didn’t jump into bed with women on a whim. Not usually, at least. He’d have to see how the next few minutes played out and then decide whether or not to bed her.
Yes, he was confident enough in himself to know that if he wanted her to share a bed with him, then she would indeed do so. He opened his laptop and pulled up a report. If she didn’t speak again, maybe that would be the end of it. If she did . . . well, if she did, maybe he’d decide to prolong their conversation.
As he began working, a few minutes passed in total silence. So maybe their conversation was over; maybe that small stirring she’d caused in him had been nothing more than a fluke. But her scent began drifting over him. Fingers of jasmine and nutmeg twirled around his nose and slid across his cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he decided that work could wait for a while. There wasn’t a lot of time before he and this nameless woman would board the plane.
As if his thoughts had caused the agents to actually do some work, an announcement came over the intercom, first in French, then in English. “Passengers outbound on Flight 28 with service to JFK, we apologize for the delay once again. We’ve been informed that boarding will begin in ten minutes. Please make your way back to gate K26 and we’ll get through the boarding process quickly and have you on your way to New York in a timely fashion.”
“Finally,” she murmured, though she didn’t seem particularly excited—most of the people in the terminal were clapping. She seemed to be practicing some sort of breathing exercises as she gripped her armrests. Was she afraid of flying?
“Thousands of flights take off and land safely every single day,” Jackson said, almost surprised by the sound of his voice as he attempted to comfort her. Why would he care if she was frightened? It didn’t affect him.
She turned her head slowly his way and her eyes were wide. “Yes, I know.”
He waited, but she said nothing further. “Then why the panicked expression?”
“Probably because even though I know that flying is much safer than a car or boat, my brain won’t listen to reason. Being thirty-something thousand feet in the air in a big metal machine is just unnatural,” she replied before taking another long breath.
“I wouldn’t say that boats are unsafe.” Why had that popped from his mouth?
“Have you not watched Titanic? Or Poseidon? I’d say the passengers on those boats weren’t too thrilled about how their ocean cruises ended,” she said.