Can't Let Go. Gena Showalter

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Can't Let Go - Gena Showalter Original Heartbreakers

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      She smiled, tugging gently at her hand. Embarrassed, J.D. let go; it dropped to her lap. Her delicate scent floated around him, filling his nostrils with the tantalizing fragrance of exotic fruits.

      Yes, indeed. This was much better than his previous seat. He got to stretch out and enjoy complimentary champagne and had the added bonus of a beautiful woman at his side. This was a hundred times more pleasant, and he planned to enjoy every minute of it.

      “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Floyd speaking. We seemed to have hit a patch of rough weather. I’m going to ask you to stay in your seats with your belts buckled until further notice. We’ll try to move above the turbulence as quickly as possible. Thank you.”

      J.D.’s hands gripped the armrests as the plane shook. The cards scattered in all directions on the tray. After several unsteady minutes the plane leveled off. He sighed.

      Hiding her own nervousness over the rough flight, Shae watched his movements. His hands shook slightly while he gathered the deck of cards into a single pile and shoved them into the box. She’d noticed the cards earlier. They had a distinctive design. A mocha brown background was bordered in a thick black line. The letters J.D. were printed in red and stretched from the left bottom corner to the upper right.

      Feeling a spark of sympathy for this man, she decided to try to distract him. Shae tapped the box.

      “Those are unique. Where did you buy them?”

      J.D. turned the box over, then handed it to Shae. “A couple of my college buddies had these made for me as a gift.”

      “Very nice.”

      “Yes, they are. I call them my lucky deck. Whenever I travel I need to have them with me. They’re a great source of solitary entertainment when I’m stuck in an airport.” He chuckled. “It’s my variation on the lucky rabbit’s foot.”

      “I understand.” Shae handed the box to him. He lifted his hips off the seat, shoved the box into the pocket of his denims, then dropped back down and returned the tray to its proper position.

      Without warning, the plane began to rock and J.D.’s empty hands clenched into tight fists. The skin around his knuckles was taut. It was silent for several minutes as the plane rode out the bumpy weather. When everything settled, he blew out a sigh of relief and ran his hand over his shaved head.

      Shae’s gaze swept his face. Perspiration beaded on his hairless dome and forehead. His right leg rocked from side to side. A twinge of sympathy tugged at Shae’s heart.

      Poor baby, he’s so nervous, she thought. For several minutes she debated whether she should intrude. He seemed so uncomfortable that she had to do something.

      “J.D.?” she whispered softly.

      He turned to face her. “Mmm?”

      “Are you okay?”

      “No. I’m not a very good passenger,” he admitted reluctantly.

      “Any particular reason?”

      J.D.’s face scrunched up. “I’ve never been very good at flying. It’s a necessary evil that I’ve learned to live with, but never like.”

      “What’s different today?” Shae asked.

      Wincing, J.D. shook his head. “I don’t want you to think that I act like a wimp all the time. Unfortunately, I lost a family member a few years ago when his plane went down.”

      “Oh, I’m sorry. That doesn’t make it any easier, does it?”

      “No. And turbulence doesn’t make me feel any safer. I’d rather be on the ground.”

      Chuckling, Shae responded, “You’re not alone. Don’t fret, a lot of people have problems flying. There’s no shame in that.”

      He seemed to consider her remark before answering. “Since 9/11, my anxiety has increased. I’m more nervous. I put off flying as long as possible.” He ran his tongue across his lips. “There’s this mental image in my head that won’t go away. I see those planes crashing into the World Trade Center and I can barely make myself board.”

      She patted his hand, not surprised by the fact that he would reveal such personal information to a stranger. Many times people find it easy to confess things to someone they don’t have a connection with. “Maybe I can help.”

      He studied her with a troubled expression in his eyes. “How?”

      Offering J.D. an encouraging smile, Shae gently pried one of his hands away from the armrest and enfolded it between both of hers. “It’s easy. I can hold your hand, talk to you, offer a distraction from thinking about being in the air.”

      The expression in his eyes warmed her heart. Shae knew she had made the correct choice. Gratitude flashed from his eyes.

      “Right now I’ll take any help I can get.”

      “Don’t worry about anything.” She intertwined her fingers with his. “I’ll be right here. Just hold on to me.”

      Shae kept her word; she didn’t let go. For the next hour she kept them both occupied with questions about Chicago. When the flight got bumpy, Shae smoothly shifted the conversation to her life. She entertained J.D. with her stories about Malibu, her family and friends—any topic that would keep J.D. engaged.

      As they neared Illinois, the flight settled into a smooth pattern and the pilot turned off the seat-belt sign. All in all, things had turned out well. Best of all, Shae had discovered a new and exciting friend.

      Chapter 3

      “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be landing at Chicago O’Hare Airport in approximately 10 minutes. For your safety, please remain in your seats with your seat belt fastened until the plane comes to a complete stop. Thank you for flying Northwest Airlines and have a wonderful stay in Chicago. Flight staff, prepare for landing.”

      J.D. watched the flight crew hurry up and down the aisle, removing empty soda cans and pretzel bags. They checked passenger seat belts and returned trays to the upright position before returning to their seats.

      Right on schedule, the plane touched down on the concrete, bouncing along for several seconds before rolling to a smooth stop. J.D. felt his body go slack with relief. He’d made it home in one piece. Still holding Shae’s hand, he turned to her, offering a smile of gratitude for her gentle support.

      He wiped his brow and tried to come up with a way to make himself look less like a wimp and more self-assured. Honestly, he didn’t know what to do. Maybe some wonderful inspiration would strike him before they parted company.

      “Shae, thanks for everything. You are an angel.”

      “You’re more than welcome.”

      He offered her a weak smile. “I’ve definitely made up my mind to hire an assistant. That person can handle all the long-distance travel.”

      “It sounds like a plan,” she answered.

      “The

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