to introduce herself, but she couldn’t get her mouth to work. Remembering what was at stake, she conquered her nerves and offered her hand in greeting. “Hi,” she said, wearing her brightest, most dazzling smile. “I’m Tatiyana Washington.”
He nodded but didn’t speak. Jerk, she thought, put off by his cold demeanor. Markos gave her a blank look, making her feel small and insignificant, and Tatiyana wished her happy-go-lucky self hadn’t introduced herself first. Sensing some reserve in his manner, she toned down her excitement and spoke in a softer, quieter voice. “And you are—” she prompted.
“Working,” he snapped.
Embarrassed, her cheeks flushed with heat, she forced an apologetic smile onto her lips. “Not a problem. Sorry for bothering you—”
“Thanks.” Returning to his document, he picked up his fancy diamond pen and resumed writing, scowling as if she was a pesky fly he couldn’t get rid of.
Shocked by his rudeness, Tatiyana realized she’d never disliked anyone more than the curt divorce attorney, and made up her mind to get even with him before Flight 74 landed in Tampa. Deciding to play it cool, Tatiyana slipped on her sunglasses and settled back into her seat, pretending Markos didn’t exist. It didn’t work. She couldn’t stop stealing glances at him, watching him on the sly as he typed, and when their arms inadvertently touched and desire exploded inside her, Tatiyana feared she didn’t stand a chance against Markos Morretti.
Markos Morretti glanced around the first-class cabin, searching for an empty seat, but couldn’t find one anywhere. Dannazione, he thought, dragging a hand through his short, black hair. I’m screwed. He had motions to read and depositions to write, but everything about his seatmate was a distraction. Her floral fragrance, her bubbly, effervescent vibe, how she danced around in her seat to the music playing in her pink earbuds, her pretty, melodious voice.
Staggered by her beauty, all Markos could do was stare. She was stunning, well-put together in a white shorts set, bejeweled sandals, and a gold ankle bracelet that drew his gaze to her silky, brown legs. Her outfit screamed, “Look at Me,” and Markos did. He couldn’t stop undressing her with his eyes. He had an erection growing inside his boxer briefs, and the dark-skinned beauty was the reason why. What’s wrong with me? Why am I sweating a woman who looks like trouble? Who’s probably broken hearts in every state?
Markos felt guilty for snapping at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. It wasn’t Tatiyana’s fault he had a heavy caseload and an incompetent paralegal. The motion was riddled with spelling mistakes, and he had no choice but to revise the document Izzy had written. He made a mental note to have a stern talk with her when he returned to LA on Monday. He’d hired her as a favor to her mother but regretted it the first time Izzy Braunstein waltzed into his office an hour late, complaining about her boneheaded boyfriend.
Telling himself not to worry about it, Markos shook off his negative thoughts. His job was challenging, fast-paced and stressful at times, but he was a damn good attorney, and he was proud of his winning record. He spent his days meeting with potential and existing clients, drafting court documents, consulting with his staff and going to court. Although Markos loved his job, he needed a break. His brothers and cousins were en route to the Oasis Spa and Resort as well, and he was looking forward to their guys-only weekend.
Markos picked up his notebook determined to finish his work. Hired to represent the biggest pop star on the planet in her divorce, Markos knew the high-profile case could increase his popularity, and devoted all of his free time to plotting and strategizing how to win. The divorce proceedings had dragged on for eighteen long months, and he was growing tired of the case. But when he got into a heated argument with the opposing counsel in June, and the jerk threw a cup of water in his face, resulting in a courthouse brawl, Markos vowed to crush his opponent no matter the cost. His critics called him ruthless, claimed he was motivated by money, fame and power, but Markos didn’t care. He was a Morretti, and Morrettis ignored what the haters said. He gave a 100 percent to every case, regardless of his client’s net worth, and refused to let anyone outsmart him in court.
Like his thoughts, his eyes wandered to Tatiyana, instead of his notes. Tatiyana met his gaze, stared right at him. Sparks flew, proving their chemistry was real, and not a figment of his imagination. Markos felt an immediate attraction to her, a spark that couldn’t be denied, and struggled to keep his hands in his lap and off her curves. His gaze dipped from her face to her cleavage, resting at her bosom. Her animal-print scarf gave her ensemble a touch of class, but he fantasized about her naked, on his lap, riding him—
She sang in a low voice, snapping her fingers, rocking her body from side to side.
Markos plucked at his striped shirt. Dancing around in her seat, having a party for one, Tatiyana reminded him of a video vixen in a music video. Too bad she was probably high maintenance. One look at Tatiyana told Markos everything he needed to know. Skilled at reading people, he suspected she was materialistic and decided to keep his distance. Markos didn’t want what Tatiyana was offering. He was tired of women throwing themselves at him, and wished he could meet someone who didn’t want anything from him.
Still, he was intrigued and couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Excuse me.” Standing, Tatiyana stepped past him, heading up the aisle as if it were her own personal runway. Her scent overpowered his senses, sending his thoughts into overdrive. Leaning to the right, he admired her captivating strut, curious if she had a boyfriend.
His eyes flickered over her curves, cruising down her hips with deliberate intent. She strode toward the lavatory, giving him a terrific view of her from behind, tempting him to break the rules. Sweat clung to his skin, drenching the back of his short-sleeve shirt. Long after Tatiyana disappeared into the bathroom, he was thinking about her—her smoky eyes, her toned, slender shape, her mesmerizing walk, how her aura and physical beauty drew him in.
“Sir, are you finished with your lunch? I hope everything was to your liking...”
Markos straightened and regarded the flight attendant, hoping she didn’t see him ogling Tatiyana’s backside. “Yes, thanks, everything was great.”
To get his mind off Tatiyana, Markos stared out the window. The sky was clear, powder blue, and instantly calmed his mind. Hanging out with the guys was the perfect antidote for his stress. These days, all Markos did was work, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d cut loose. He had an active social life, but none of the women he was dating excited him. He kept females at a distance, hadn’t gotten close to anyone since Emme left, and didn’t plan to. Thoughts of his ex-girlfriend flooded his mind, and Markos wondered if the pain in his heart would ever subside.
Someone whistled, drawing Markos’s gaze to the front of the plane. Tatiyana was back, a sight to behold with that radiant, effervescent smile. A child raced up the aisle, slamming into Tatiyana, and she rocked back onto her heels. She dropped her purse, and its contents spilled onto the floor, flying everywhere.
Unbuckling his seat belt, Markos bent and picked up the items at his feet, handing them to her. Their fingers touched, brushing ever so lightly against each other. Tatiyana thanked him, but he could see the contempt on her face and knew she had her guard up. Her eyes bored into him, leaving him feeling vulnerable, exposed, as if she could see into his soul.
After he helped her pick up her stuff, she sat down, picked up the book on her seat and flipped it open.
“Italy for Dummies?” he said, unable to hide his amusement. “Are you planning a trip to Italy in the near
