“Wow.” Perfectly circular tinted windows let in enough light to display the oval interior to luxurious perfection. She counted six spacious seats in soft honey leather before running her gaze over the polished mahogany paneling and fittings, the immaculate carpet, then the cockpit just beyond. She barely registered Luke’s hand slipping from hers as she took one step inside, then another.
“Pretty cool, huh?” he said behind her.
“It looks like a limousine.” She slowly ran her hand down one headrest.
Just as soft as it looked. She breathed in a myriad of scents—leather, new carpet, even a faint whisper of cigar smoke. The scent of power and money.
Then Luke shifted behind her and suddenly a luscious hint of ginger and spices, mingled with something all male, flooded her senses.
Her heart kicked up, but whether it was from the impending flight or Luke’s proximity, she couldn’t tell.
Then his hand was on the small of her back and she had to swallow back her nerves.
“Take a seat and buckle up.” He nudged her forward then took the seat next to hers, the leather squealing in protest.
She could do nothing but follow his lead.
Luke watched Beth squeeze her eyes shut as the plane began to taxi down the runway, her breath coming short and sharp. Sweat beaded across her forehead and her grip tightened on his, threatening to cut off his blood supply. He swallowed a wince.
“Hey. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, her eyes edged open. “What?”
“It’s better if you don’t shut your eyes.”
She scowled. “What would you know about it?”
“My aunt hates flying, too—her first and only trip was when she and Gino immigrated here forty years ago. If she can’t get to it by car or boat, she doesn’t go.”
“Oh.” She jumped as the gears clunked into place. Then he began to gently stroke her knuckles and she blinked.
“What are you doing?”
“Calming you down.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“No?” He continued, his eyes fixed on her pale face. “When were you in a limo?”
“What?” The plane sped up and she dragged in a raggedy breath, but Luke wouldn’t let her look away.
“You said the plane looked like a limousine.”
“Yes.”
He reached up and twisted the knob for the air-conditioning in the overhead panel, and when the cool air flooded down, she breathed deeply.
“A limo?” he prompted, settling in his seat.
“A bunch of us hired one to celebrate our final year of study. My first and last taste of the high liiiii—!”
The plane swooped up, his stomach quickly following, and Beth’s hand gripped his until his fingers began to throb.
He winced and ignored the pain.
Beth swallowed, knowing she was hurting him but helpless to stop. Yet past all that blood-thumping anxiety, his strong hands wrapped around hers and his deep voice murmured gentle inanities that eventually broke through her panic. Yes, she still wanted to jerk her hand away, but the desire to overcome this awful debilitating fear was greater.
She hated losing control. Yet as she kept her eyes focused on Luke, listening to him recite the plane’s capabilities and luxurious interior specifications, she felt something shift. It could’ve been the intimate warmth of skin on skin, or the sensual timbre of his voice. Or maybe it was the promising flicker behind those eyes she wasn’t quite sure she’d seen.
When he leaned in, she did, too, her gaze snagged on that sensual mouth only centimetres away. But it was his scent that made her tummy flip in a completely different way.
Lord, he smelled wonderful. She took a deep, shaky breath, just to make sure. Yes. Oh, yes. She closed her eyes. Ginger, peppermint. Hint of bergamot. And …
“Are you sniffing me, Beth?”
Her eyes sprang open, her face hot. “I … uh …”
His mouth curved. “We’re in the air, by the way.”
“What?” She yanked away and whirled to the window, heart reverberating in her throat.
“You don’t need to look.” He recaptured her hands, forcing her to turn back. “Just keep focusing on me. Just breathe. And tell me about your work.”
“My work?”
“Well, how did you get your own business? Did you go to university?”
“No.” She swallowed, allowing his eyes to command hers. “I did a course at my local college. Four years and I had my diploma in massage therapy. I—”
The plane banked right and Beth tightened her grip.
“Go on.”
She swallowed then continued faintly, “I did a few business courses, worked a bunch of jobs. And here I am.”
“Why massage therapy?”
“Because I’m good at it.” And I like the idea of taking away someone’s pain.
“Your family?”
She bit back a familiar sliver of sorrow. “None.”
His gaze softened. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “What about yours?”
“My parents died when I was fifteen.” She noticed the tightening of his expression, the tiny twitch at the corner of his jaw. “Robbery gone wrong.”
“That’s …” Sad? Awful? Terrible? Beth paused. Any word she chose was inadequate.
Luke took pity on her. “Yeah. Gino and Rosa took me in until I was eighteen.”
Beth flicked a nervous glance out the window, to the clouds floating by, then back again. “You were a gifted child, right? Graduated from a seven-year university degree at nineteen.”
He moved uncomfortably in his seat. “Yep. I’ve been working for Jackson and Blair since then.”
Despite the air-conditioning, she felt the slow trickle of sweat meander down her back, coming to rest at the base of her spine. She shifted, the heavy echo of her heartbeat drowning out the engine’s gentle drone.
After a moment or two, he said, “It’s like a roller coaster.”
“What is?”
