I catch my breath, smelling a light drift of coconut and fruit from Lacey’s shampoo. I feel light-headed, and although I tell myself it’s from the near-death experience we just had here, I know that’s a lie.
It’s her. All her. The body pressed up against me, every curve driving me crazy, making me wish I could touch her, everywhere. Right now.
The overhead announcement clicks on. “Apologies for the bumpy ride, we’ve hit a little weather.”
“You don’t say,” Lacey says, pale-faced. She’s still holding me tight, breathing heavily. I glance down, catching sight of the rise and fall of her chest, swelling against her T-shirt, and is that …? Yup. A hint of red lace underneath.
I grip the seat-back harder, dizzy.
“We’re looking at snow-storms out of Atlanta, so we’ve been advised to divert for a landing. Looks like you’ll be grounded a while. Nothing’s getting through this blizzard.”
The pilot clicks off, and there’s a babble of voices in the cabin: frustration and anger as people realize they might not make it home in time for Christmas. I’m still holding Lacey, so I slowly release her, surprised to feel a pull of disappointment as she steps back, out of my arms.
“I can’t believe this,” Lacey cries.
I snap back to reality. “It’s just a storm, it’ll pass.”
“No!” She blinks at me, wide-eyed. “I did this! I said I’d make it snow for her, and now there’s a freaking blizzard! I’ll never make it to Beachwood Bay in time. Juliet is going to kill me.” She sinks back into her seat with a sigh.
I should be angry too. After all, I’m going to be grounded. I won’t get back to see my folks for the tree lighting, and the carol services on Christmas Eve; I’ll be stuck in the middle of nowhere, bedding down in an airport hotel. But instead of being annoyed, all I can think is, now I get a few more hours with her.
A few more hours with this whirlwind of a girl who somehow, sets every nerve in my body on fire, and makes me imagine things I have no business imagining.
God help me, but as we set for our descent, I’m feeling more cheerful than I have in weeks.
***
“Come on, come on …” I tap my foot impatiently, an anxious eye on the line ahead of me at the last car rental desk in the terminal. I’ve already tried the other two companies here, and they’re both already sold out. This is my last hope, and even though the fee will push my overdraft way past breaking point, it’s my only option if I’m going to make it to Beachwood Bay in time for the wedding tomorrow. “Take the keys, say ‘thank you’, then move along, honey.”
“What’s that?” Daniel asks. He insisted on keeping me company in line, so now I have two things to worry about: my snow-bound travel plans, and the fact I can’t even look at him without remembering the way his arms felt wrapped around me. Strong. Secure. And sexy as hell.
“Nothing,” I quickly catch my breath, hoping my cheeks aren’t flushed at the memory. “You think it’ll take me long to drive?”
Daniel whips out his phone and taps to check. “Four, five hours,” he replies with a frown. “But you really shouldn’t be driving, not in this blizzard.” He glances outside the airport, to where a flurry of white flakes are falling fast, coating the sidewalk in a dusting of snow. It’s late afternoon, and getting dark already, the clouds overhead showing no sign of a break.
“I can’t wait,” I insist, inching forward as the line moves along. Or maybe that’s just my wishful thinking. “Tonight is the bachelorette party, and then they need me to set everything up tomorrow. Oh God, Juliet’s going to kill me.” I whimper.
Daniel smiles. “No she won’t. Juliet’s not the maiming kind.”
“Exactly!” I exclaim, morose. “She’ll kill me with sad understanding. I’ll die from the guilt.”
“It’ll be fine,” Daniel reassures me, reaching over to rub my shoulder sympathetically. “You’ll make it in time, don’t worry.”
I catch my breath at his touch, feeling it shiver through me, everywhere. I must have flinched, because Daniel suddenly drops his hand and steps back, looking bashful.
Damn, there you go, making this awkward again.
I stifle a sigh. Since the moment I ran headlong into Daniel in LAX, I’ve done nothing but screw up. First, the constant reminder that the love of his life is marrying someone else, then my awkward clumsiness and babbling. Hell, when we hit turbulence, I practically cut off his circulation clinging on for dear life. And although he was too much of a gentleman to say, I can tell I made him way too uncomfortable getting so close.
Admit it, girl. You liked holding on.
Fine. I did. I loved every terrifying second of it: safe in his arms, his muscles hard against my body. It made me wonder just what kind of physique the man’s been hiding under those preppy Oxford shirts and neat suits all these years …
Not that you’ll ever find out.
The thought is like a cold shower: dousing my lustful thoughts with a freezing doze of reality. Daniel couldn’t be less interested in me if he tried: that dream girl list he spelled out on the plane made it crystal clear. A good wife, a mother … I’d sunk lower in the tiny seat as he went on and on about his ideal match, and all the while, it felt like every word was a personal insult:
You’re not right for him. You never will be.