Definitely not man perfume. No, this was something completely different.
She shifted in her seat, crossed her legs in the other direction, and took the opportunity to turn her head toward the flight attendant as she demonstrated all the safety features of the airplane. When she did, she caught Mr. Phone tilting his head back and closing his eyes.
Shannon leaned in, just a hair, and silently sniffed the air.
This was going to drive her crazy. She ruled out food scents. No, he didn’t smell like he’d just had a succulent meal that had no choice but to filter through his pores. Not earthy . . . like musk or pine.
She sniffed again and Mr. Phone shot his eyes open.
She sat back quickly, not that she was very close, but still.
“Are you sick?” Mr. Phone asked.
Mortified, Shannon narrowed her eyes. “No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Good. The last thing I need is some bug right now.” He closed his eyes again.
“Well, you won’t get one from me.”
“Good to know.” And just like that, Mr. Phone fell asleep. The plane hadn’t even lifted off the ground and he was out.
Thirty minutes later, Shannon had a second mimosa in her system . . . which was uncharacteristic, considering the time of day. But something happens when you board a jet and someone starts pouring liquor into tiny glasses. It didn’t help that most of the passengers in first class were filling up on Bloody Marys, mimosas, wine, and cocktails. The destination almost mandated that you start the party early. With the exception of Mr. Phone—who still slept—and her, the other passengers were all wearing casual clothing and appeared to be on their way to beach vacations without a care in the world.
She’d start her vacation after the doomed marriage of Corrie and . . . what was his name again? Brooks. His first name escaped her. Attending the festivities during the rehearsal was her way of learning the family dynamics and demands. Corrie could have an equally demanding grandmother that would attempt to boss Shannon around, or a drunken uncle that she’d need to rally the wedding planner to help with. Weddings took a village, and Shannon considered herself one of the town leaders. So when the flight attendant asked if she wanted more wine with the lunch provided, Shannon hesitated.
The rehearsal was eight hours away.
The book she packed for the vacation portion of her time in Mexico was packed in her checked bag.
Mr. Phone was sound asleep. No conversation there.
“Yes, that would be nice,” she told the attendant.
Before her meal arrived, Shannon took the opportunity to wiggle out of her seat without waking her neighbor to use the restroom. Somewhere in the five minutes she was up, Mr. Phone woke up long enough to lean his seat all the way back, legs stretched out, and once again was sound asleep.
Note to self: always take an aisle seat!
She cleared her throat.
He didn’t move.
Option one: wake him up.
Option two: climb over his stretched out legs. She was tall—she could do it.
The passengers around her were either deep in conversation or had on the headphones the airline provided and their eyes glued to the in-flight entertainment.
A second clearing of her throat.
Nothing.
Okay . . . did she climb over facing him, or away?
Away. That way she could hold on to the seats in front of them and keep her balance.
With her decision made, she pulled her shoulders back and lifted one leg over. Thank God she’d never carried too many extra pounds or touching the stranger would have been a given.
Halfway there . . .
She shifted her weight, lifted her remaining limb up . . .
The plane decided that was the perfect moment to hit a pocket of unstable air. Shannon tried to correct her weight, grabbed for the back of the seat in front of her. A second shift in the airplane and someone’s glass rolled on the floor. Shannon lost it.
“What the . . .”
Her ass landed in Mr. Phone’s lap.
His hands on her hips.
Humiliation boiled in her veins.
Victor was dreaming.
Or at least he was before his eyes popped open to the stunning woman next to him who now sat in his lap.
Or more to the point, was scrambling off his lap.
“What in the . . . ?”
“I’m so sorry.”
Victor reached for the button to lower his leg rest and somehow caught his seatmate a second time . . . or maybe the way the plane tilted had her losing her balance again.
He couldn’t stop his hands from moving to help her off of him any more than he could stop his pulse from jumping in his chest.
She grabbed ahold of the seats in front of her.
Someone close by started laughing.
The woman scrambled and fell into her seat. When she turned his way, the crimson color on her cheeks gave away her embarrassment.
“That was awkward,” he said, trying to make light of what happened.
She lifted her chin a little higher and tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind her ear.
“You could have waited to stretch out until after I returned. It isn’t like I could have gone far.”
“So it’s my fault.”
“Well, you certainly didn’t consider how I might get back into my seat.”
How rich was that? She fell in his lap and blamed him. Story of my life. “My apologies, Miss . . .”
“Annoyed.” She turned to look out the window.
Victor bit back a laugh. Chuckling at her might not be the best way to spend the duration of the flight. “I’m sorry, Miss Annoyed. I didn’t realize that you’d gotten up.”
She huffed out a breath and waved at the flight attendant. “I’ll have that glass of wine now, please.”
The attendant snickered. “I’ll keep your glass full.”
Victor glanced around at the other passengers, many of which were trying not to watch him and his annoyed companion.
He stopped the attendant from running off. “Excuse me.”
The attendant turned, her lips pinched.
Okay . . . apparently he was doing a good job of frustrating more than one female today. “Gin and tonic?” he asked.
She hesitated.
“Please,” Miss Annoyed said for him.
“Sorry. Please.”
The flight attendant flashed a smile. “Of course.”
He checked his watch. “I slept for an hour?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen asleep on an airplane.
“Excuse me?” Miss Annoyed was still unhappy with him.
He pointed to his watch. “Did I really sleep for an hour?”
She turned to give him the full face of her disapproval. “You did.”
Miss Annoyed was model beautiful. High cheekbones, full lips . . . the depth of her eyes seemed to take everything in around her. She was what Victor would label conceited, privileged, and out of his league.
The flight attendant arrived with their drinks, and he took the opportunity to glance at her left hand.
No wedding ring.
He wasn’t surprised. She didn’t seem to have a warm bone to spare.
Not that he was interested.
He thanked the woman handing him his drink and attempted to calm his fidgeting fingers. Flying wasn’t one of his strong suits. Years of hearing his father talk about the airplane parts he’d machined in his career, and insinuate his lack of trust in a chunk of steel defying gravity, made it hard to relax. It didn’t matter that Victor flew all over the world, several times a year. It still bothered him and made him more chatty than he cared to admit.
Only his seatmate didn’t seem all that interested in conversation.
Not that her scowl kept him from trying. “What takes you to Cancun?”
She regarded him out of the corner of her eye. For a minute, he didn’t think she’d answer. She opened her mouth to respond, and hesitated.
“You don’t look like you’re on vacation.” She wore slacks and a button up shirt. Something he would expect his assistant to show up to work in.
She looked down at herself, then back at him.
“Neither do you,” she told him.
Victor loosened the tie her comment reminded him he was wearing. Truth was, he’d dressed that morning on autopilot. If it wasn’t for the packed bag at the door leading into his garage, he might have jumped in his car and driven to work. His life had somehow taken on a routine, and anything outside the norm was quickly overlooked.
“I live in a suit,” he told her.
She attempted a smile. “That might be uncomfortable on a beach.”
He thought about the clothes he’d packed. “Hotels always have gift stores, which I’m sure I’ll need to use.”
“And if not, I’m told there are nude beaches on the Yucatán.”
Victor blinked several times, somewhat surprised those words had come out of Miss Annoyed’s mouth. “Maybe when I was twenty. I’d be a little concerned about certain parts getting too much sun.”
He was pretty sure she smiled. But the moment passed, and she turned back to the view out the window.
A full minute flew by.
Yeah, she wasn’t going to talk. He set his drink aside and reached for his briefcase under the seat in front of him to remove his laptop. He might as well get a few things done, since conversation obviously wasn’t going to happen without a struggle.
He quickly found his head deep in an article that spelled out why he should be buying more junkyards full of destroyed cars while the prices were low. He removed a notepad and wrote a few highlights of what to check on when he returned to his office.
When the flight attendant arrived with Miss Annoyed’s lunch, he passed on food and asked for another drink. He was two sips in when his seatmate spoke.
“I don’t think you have to worry.”
He tore his eyes from his computer. “Worry about what?”
She looked down. “The sun burning certain parts of your body. Your laptop will serve as great sunscreen.”
He followed her gaze. “I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate me taking this on the beach.”