in his gaze. She’d never realized how blue his eyes were, how honest and direct. Gazing into them, she flashed back to her dream and found herself feeling heated inside, almost breathless, almost…
Was she out of her mind? This was Rhys Paxton, the most arrogant man she had ever known and, none too coincidentally, her best friend’s fiancé.
That damned dream, she thought, yanking her hand out of his grasp and sitting back in her seat.
She made a shooing motion with her hands, anxious to have him gone. Watching him make his way to the front of the plane, she sighed in exasperation. Figured he’d be in first class.
Okay, he’d gained the advantage in this round, but she hoped, for his sake, he wasn’t assuming he’d always get the best of her. Trae was taking nothing for granted, especially not his so-called word. He might not be as selfish and ruthless as she wanted to believe, but the Rhys Paxtons of this world almost always had their own agendas, and they rarely included standing aside for the Trae Andrelinis. She might have to work with the guy, but it didn’t mean she had to trust him.
Stretched out in the plush leather seat, Rhys knew he should be resting but he felt too unsettled to sleep. He was worried about Lucie—where she was, what she was doing, what kind of mischief Boudreaux could get her into this time.
Contrary to what Trae implied, he did care about Lucie. How could Trae call it a loveless marriage? She’d made it sound like another business acquisition. Granted, maybe their relationship didn’t have all the sizzle of a paperback romance, but he’d been looking out for her for years and couldn’t imagine ever doing otherwise. Everyone knew Lucie couldn’t ask for a more dependable or more devoted husband.
Yet…
The instant he’d touched Trae’s soft, warm skin, something shifted in chest. Holding her hand in his, staring into her deep, emerald eyes, his sense of obligation moved ever so slightly away from Lucie and onto…
He shook his head. He owed Trae nothing more than his promise that she’d get to speak to Lucie first. So why, then, did he suddenly feel guilty about leaving her scrunched up in economy while he luxuriated in first?
This wasn’t about anyone’s comfort—he was here to find Lucie. And if he expected to do so, he had to concentrate on what lay ahead. The wise man—the winning man—always came prepared.
He’d arranged the rental car, convinced Trae—albeit reluctantly—to lead him to Lucie and had two seats reserved for the red-eye to JFK this evening. As long as the Worldways baggage handlers didn’t go out on their threatened strike, he and Lucie would be home and back to business as usual by early tomorrow morning.
Smiling, he sat back in his seat. The ball was in his court again, just where he liked it.
Consulting the map in the glove compartment, Trae stifled a grin at Paxton’s grumbling as she guided them out of the airport. Apparently there had been a mix-up and all the agency could offer was this tiny, well-used Neon. Bad enough not to travel in the style to which he as accustomed, but to make matters worse for him, the baggage handlers had misplaced his luggage.
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