slow, she was certain. And when he spoke it was with that deep, rumbling, intimate tone again, the air between them seeming to vibrate and—well—sizzle a little, frankly.
‘Not in that area, no,’ he stage-whispered, ‘but I did get detention after school on a pretty regular basis. Just don’t tell anyone in case it affects my ability to get into some countries, okay?’
‘Your secret’s safe with me.’
When she answered in an equally low stage whisper, her gaze tangled with his again, a shiver of something running up her spine, radiating outwards, leaving her skin tingling and a strange tightness in her chest.
What was that? She’d never been so very aware of a man on such a cellular level before and it was—a little unsettling, actually.
‘Could I ask you to put your tray down, please, sir?’
The voice of a stewardess broke the charged silence, forcing Ronan back into his allocated space before he lowered his tray, a smile aimed up at the pretty blonde as she served him his meal. He wasn’t the least bit tempted to flirt with her, he noticed, not the way he had with the woman beside him. It was something unusual for him— not that he hadn’t been known to make small talk with someone on a long-haul flight if they hadn’t handed out the usual ‘leave me alone’ signals of burying their nose in a paperback or plugging in headphones.
But she was—intriguing, he supposed was the right word. What was someone like her doing travelling alone? No rings anywhere, he’d noted, so it would be a boyfriend rather than husband meeting her in New York if there was one. But something told him there wasn’t either one or she wouldn’t be flirting back with him the way she was. Women who blushed as prettily as she had weren’t players in that league, were they?
Business trip, then—visiting friends maybe.
Only one way to find out, so once they had their meals in front of them he turned his head to look at her again. ‘What takes you to the Big Apple?’
She handed him his passport, which he tucked between his thighs without removing his gaze from her face. She should be well used to men looking at her, as pretty as she was with gleaming chestnut hair waving around her fine features and the full mouth with a constant upward curve suggesting she smiled more often than not.
‘It’s on my fantasy list.’
It took considerable effort to keep a strangled edge out of his voice. ‘Your what?’
Because his furtive imagination had just gone straight to Sinville with that one.
‘Kind of like fantasy football only with destinations instead of players.’ She nodded, tucking a strand of richly coloured hair behind her ear so he could see a small earring dangling against the skin of her neck as she leaned forward to examine what was on her tray—the simple sight intensely sensual. ‘I’ve spent so long burying myself in work that this trip is made up entirely of places off the top of the list.’
Ronan watched as she flashed him a sideways glance and a small smile that warmed the hints of russet in her large brown eyes. ‘I’m going round the world.’
And the husky sense of satisfaction in her voice was a pleasure to his ears. ‘Alone?’
‘Now, if you were me would you answer that question when a stranger asked it?’
‘No.’
She nodded again, ripping the plastic off her utensils. ‘There you go, then.’
‘So are you?’
She turned her shoulders and fixed him with a steady ‘straight in the eye’ gaze. ‘Now, Mr O’Keefe—’
‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ He leaned a little closer— something he’d been doing a lot of the last few minutes. ‘I was Ronan five minutes ago—and you owe me a name.’
‘That was before you threatened me with a knife.’
When she dipped her chin in the direction of his hand he looked down, then back. ‘It’s a three- inch plastic knife—I’d say you’re safe from any lasting harm, wouldn’t you?’
When she continued to challenge him with her steady gaze and a minuscule quirk of her perfectly arched brows he took a deep breath and set the utensils down, replacing them with a spoon and the dessert tub, which he automatically ripped the cover off.
Her eyes widened. ‘You’re eating dessert first?’
‘Yup,’ he answered with his mouth full of a surprisingly good lemon cheesecake, mentally making a note of it in association with the airline. ‘Why wait for the good stuff? Life’s too short.’
‘That’s profound. But I think you’ll find it has more to do with the savoury-before-sweet rule.’
There was a brief pause while Ronan studied her, cheesecake dissolving on his tongue. ‘There’s a rule?’
‘Yes, and for good reason.’
‘Never was one for following rules.’
‘I can believe that.’
Ronan sat a little taller, because he was quite proud of his reputation as a rule-breaker, as it happened. He’d never been one for accepting the going odds either. And he wasn’t that easily distracted.
‘Name.’
She laughed, the sound amazingly sexy in the intimate space between them, and Ronan had been on more planes than he could count on his fingers and toes combined and never once had he found himself wishing the flight could be a few hours longer than it actually was.
‘Does it matter? Not like you’ll ever see me again after this flight touches down.’
‘We made a deal.’ And as a rule-follower she wasn’t likely to go back on a deal, was she?
She ran the rosy tip of her tongue over her full lips, bringing Ronan’s gaze to her mouth as she formed the words.
‘It’s Kerry, Kerry Doyle.’
It suited her, was—right somehow. ‘Nice to meet you, Kerry, Kerry Doyle.’
And her mouth curled into an answering wide smile that showed straight teeth and mischievous dimples—oh, she was really something.
‘Funny guy.’
Trailing his gaze from her mouth to the warmth of her eyes, and then somewhat reluctantly for the first time in his life to focus on his dessert, he silently cleared his throat before digging a little deeper to satisfy his raging curiosity.
‘Tell me more about this fantasy list.’
‘Is it a good idea for a woman travelling alone to give her itinerary to a stranger on a plane?’
Actually he wasn’t entirely convinced that was the kind of fantasies he’d meant, his mouth curling into a lazy smile at the thought as he loaded his spoon.
