of her nose and gave him a feeble smile. “I-I’m not scared.”
He chuckled and then pointed to the book still resting on her tray table. “The Pteromerhanophobic Traveler,” he murmured. “Quite a title. Catchy. I’d assume by the little cartoon of the smiling airplane that the book is about people who can’t get enough of flying?”
For a moment she relaxed enough to really look at him—his shaggy dark hair and his sculpted mouth, pale blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. In comparison to the buttoned-down business attire most men in first class wore, his lived-in clothes made him look dangerous.
A shiver skittered down her spine. Lily had read thousands of romantic descriptions of male beauty, from Jane Austen to Joan Collins, but for the life of her, she couldn’t recall one that did this man justice. He was, for all intents and purposes, perfect.
“I-I’m sorry,” she murmured. “You’re right. I’m not a very good flyer.” But her tension had nothing at all to do with her fear of flying. She’d never been good with extremely handsome men. They always made her feel…clumsy and inept. And handsome men, especially men with beautiful smiles and even more beautiful eyes, made her lose her capacity to think in a rational manner. She always seemed to lose herself in thoughts of what they might look like naked.
“If anything is going to happen,” he said, “it’ll happen in the first few minutes after takeoff.”
“Yes, I know. In the first ninety seconds,” Lily said. “So if we’re going to die, it’s going to happen really soon. That makes me feel better.” She glanced over at him to see a smile break across his face.
“Now you’re beginning to make me scared.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “Why do you keep apologizing?”
“I’m sorry.” She took a sharp breath, then forced another smile.
A flight attendant stopped beside Aidan’s seat and gave him a warm smile as she set his drink down. Lily glanced across the aisle at another female passenger whose gaze was fixed intently on Aidan. It seemed every woman in his general vicinity found his drink order endlessly fascinating.
She sneaked a better look at his profile. So he shared some qualities with your basic Greek god, but handsome men were a dime a dozen in Los Angeles. She’d just never been so close to one. His elbow grazed hers and Lily gathered her resolve, refusing to move her arm off the armrest of her seat.
He turned back to her and she quickly averted her eyes as he caught her staring. “Would you like another?” he asked.
“Yes,” Lily said without thinking.
“Double vodka with a splash of cranberry juice?” the flight attendant asked.
“Just cranberry juice,” Lily replied, a blush rising in her cheeks. Already, the vodka had calmed her nerves and warmed her blood. But it wouldn’t do to have him thinking she was a lush.
“With just a little vodka,” Aidan said.
“I—I really don’t drink,” Lily said. “Only when I fly.”
“Me, too,” he replied. “Since we’re going to get drunk together, maybe I should introduce myself. My name is Aidan. Aidan Pierce.”
“I’m Lily Hart,” she said. She carefully placed her fingers into his palm. The moment she touched him, Lily felt a current race through her body. Frowning, she pulled her hand away, clenching her fingers into a fist. “Nice to meet you,” she murmured.
If only she knew how to flirt. There were probably ten or fifteen women on this flight who’d give up a year’s salary to be sitting exactly where she was. This man was going to be completely wasted on her.
Lily had never needed to flirt. It had never been required for the men who usually found her attractive. But a guy like Aidan probably expected it, maybe even enjoyed it—the witty banter, the offhand caresses, the veiled come-ons. Lily realized if she didn’t at least make an attempt, he’d walk away thinking she was…odd.
The flight attendant reappeared with her drink. Aidan handed her the cranberry juice, then he held up his beer in a toast. “To our safe arrival in New York.”
Lily gave him a hesitant smile. This wasn’t going that badly. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, he was flirting with her.
“So why are you headed to the other coast?” Aidan asked.
“I’m taking a little vacation,” Lily said. “In the Hamptons.”
“I have friends in the Hamptons,” he said. “It’s pretty wild in the summer. Lots of Hollywood people. So, are you staying with friends or did you rent a place?”
“I—I have a house. I mean, it’s my family’s house. Well, not really my family, but—I’ve been going there since I was fourteen. It’s near Eastport.” She took a sip of her drink. This was a conversation. Now it was time to ask him a question. “And where are you going?”
“The city,” he said. “I have a place in SoHo. Actually, I was supposed to have a meeting on this flight, but it was canceled at the last minute. And you must have gotten her seat.” He grinned. “Kind of a happy coincidence, don’t you think?”
And that was a compliment. Oh God, it was, wasn’t it? Or could she simply be reading a deeper meaning into his words? This was exactly how her fantasies always started, except she wasn’t usually drunk and she always looked like she’d just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. But this was close enough.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“A little,” Lily said. She reached out to set her drink down, but in her excited state, she missed the edge of the tray table and the glass slipped out of her hand. It tumbled off to the side and landed on Aidan’s leg, splashing her drink all over the front of his cargo pants.
Mortified, Lily grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the damp spot then realized where she was dabbing. She looked up into his gaze and caught his bemused smile.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“I can see we’re going to have to monitor your consumption.” Aidan took the glass from between his legs and set it down. Lily didn’t want another drink. Nor did she want to continue to make a fool of herself in front of this man. Suddenly, she felt the need to throw some cold water on her face and regroup.
She bent down and grabbed her tote, then stood. But as she did, her bag caught on the edge of Aidan’s tray table and his bottle of beer tumbled over, sending another round of drinks into his lap. “Sorry,” she murmured as she crawled over him into the aisle.
When she reached the bathroom, she stumbled inside and locked the door behind her. Lily sat down on the toilet seat and reached into her bag for one of her phobia books. But instead, she pulled out a hot-off-the-press copy of The Ten-Minute Seduction.
The book had hit the stores last week to little or no fanfare. She had hoped it might be a success after all the hard work she’d put into it. But really, what woman would need a book like this? Most men didn’t need to be seduced. They were usually quite willing to engage in sex whenever
