Each circle was numbered. She’d refine the shape once she viewed the venue. She ran her finger across the page and as it moved over a circle names popped up showing who was seated at the table.
“Cool. How do I see everybody?”
“You hit this icon here.” He hung over his chair, reaching across the aisle to show her. He tried showing her the other features, but his actions were awkward. Being left-handed, he had to use his right hand to aid her because of the distance between the seats.
“This is ridiculous.” Unsnapping her seat belt, she stood. “Do you mind if I come over there for a few minutes while we go over this?”
“Sure.” He stood, as well, and stepped aside.
Standing next to him she came face to loosened tie with him. She bent her head back to see him and then bent it back again to meet his gaze. “My goodness. How tall are you?”
“Six-four.”
“And the prince?”
“Six-one.” Long fingers tugged on a short dark tendril. “Does this brain never stop working?”
“Not when I get a visual of a tall drink of water standing next to a shot glass.”
“I’m not quite sure what that means, but I think there was a compliment in there somewhere.”
“Don’t start imagining things at fifty thousand feet, Sullivan. We’re a long way from help.” She tugged on his blue-pinstriped tie. “You can ditch this now. Was dinner a formal affair?”
The light went out of his eyes. He yanked the tie off and stuffed it in his pants’ pocket. “It’s always formal with my parents.”
She patted his chest. “You did your duty, now move on.”
“Good advice.” He gestured for her to take the window seat.
She hesitated for a beat. Being trapped in the inside seat, surrounded by his potent masculinity, might be pushing her self-control a little thin. But his computer program blew her mind. From the tiny bit she’d seen, it had the potential to save her hours, if not days, of work.
“Ms. Reeves?” His breath wafted over her ear, sending a shiver racing down her spine. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” She realized he’d been talking while she fought off her panic attack. “Ah...hmm.” She cleared her throat to give herself a moment to calm down. “Why do you keep calling me by my last name?”
“Because I don’t know your first name,” he stated simply.
Oh, right. The flight attendants had used their last names. The prince had given her Zach’s name and then she’d read it on her spreadsheet.
“It’s Lindsay.”
A slow grin formed, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Pretty. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”
So obvious, yet the words still gave her a bit of a thrill. She pressed her lips together to hide her reaction. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“What?” All innocence.
“Please. That line is so old I think I heard it in kindergarten.”
She expected to see his dimple flash but got an intent stare instead. “It’s not a line when it’s true.”
A little thrill chased goose bumps across her skin. Oh, my, he was good.
She almost believed him.
Shaking her head at him, at herself, she slid past him and dropped into the window seat.
He slid into his seat, his big body filling up the small space. Thankfully they were in first class and a ten-inch console separated their seats, giving her some breathing space. Until he flicked some buttons and the console dropped down.
“That’s better.”
For who? She leaned away as he leaned closer. Just as she feared, she felt pinned in, crowded. When he dropped the tray down in front of her, the sense of being squeezed from all sides grew stronger. Not by claustrophobia but by awareness. His scent—man and chocolate—made her mouth water.
“So is it easy for you?” He half laughed, going back to their previous conversation. “To move on?”
“It’s not, actually. My mom problems are probably just as bad as or worse than your parent problems. Yet, here I am, jetting off to Italy.”
Mom’s words, not hers. Darlene couldn’t understand how Lindsay could leave and be gone for a month when Darlene’s next wedding was fast approaching. It didn’t matter that Lindsay had booked this event well before Darlene got engaged or that it was the wedding of the year—perhaps the decade—and a huge honor for Lindsay to be asked to handle it.
“I doubt it.”
“Really? My mother is my best customer.”
“Oh-hh.” He dragged the word out.
“Exactly. Soon I’ll be walking her down the aisle to husband number six.”
“Ouch. Is she a glutton for punishment?”
“Quite the opposite. My mother loves to be in love. The minute a marriage becomes work, it’s the beginning of the end. What I can’t get her to understand is that you have to work on your marriage from day one. Love needs to be fostered and nourished through respect and compromise.”
“Honesty, communication and loyalty are key.”
“Yes!” She nudged him in the arm. “You get it. Maybe you won’t be such a bad best man, after all.”
He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Thanks.”
“Anyway. I can waste a lot of time worrying about Mom or I can accept that it’s her life to live. Just as my life is mine to live.” She didn’t know why she was sharing this with him. Her mother’s love life wasn’t a secret. Far from it. But Lindsay rarely talked about her mother. “Until the next time she comes crying on my shoulder, I choose the latter.”
“At least she lets her suckers off the line.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He ran a hand around the back of his neck, loosening tight muscles. “It’s hard to let my parents just be when they keep harping on me to join the campaign trail.”
“They want you to run for office?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m to stop messing around with my little hobby and turn my mind to upholding the family name by running for the next open seat in congress.”
“Hobby? Didn’t I read an article that your company just landed a hundred-million-dollar government contract to upgrade electronic security for the military?”
“You did.” While he talked he opened the seating arrangement
