“So, you’re rich, then?”
He laughed — properly, this time, not hidden behind his hand or muffled. “Why are you asking?”
I shrugged, taking a sip of my drink before setting it downgently. “That’s just the vibe you give off. You’ve got‘I own a yacht and have a mistress in Monaco’energy.”
The grin from his laugh stayed plastered to his cheeks. “I’d argue with that if it wasn’t half true. I don’t have a mistress.”
“Oh, good,” I said dryly. “Just the yacht, then.”
He chuckled as he brought his—bourbon? whiskey?—to his lips. “Last I checked, we’rebothin the first-class lounge, Sienna.”
I shot him a look before directing my gaze elsewhere. “There’s a difference between first-class rich and whatever…thisis,” I said, gesturing toward him.
“You say that like you fit into the first category.” He didn’t miss a beat. Just laid it out there, not like it was an insult, but a fact.
I scowled at him.
But then he spoke again. “You don’t. That’s clear. But I’d bet good money every man in this room’s wondered what you taste like anyway.”
I nearly choked on my saliva.
What I taste like?
Ishewondering what I taste like?
Suddenly, a voice crackled over the speakers above, blessedly saving me.
Now calling boarding for our First-Class passengers with StrathOne Air for the 7:15 pm flight to Naples, Italy.
I stood faster than I probably should have.
Gripped the handle of my carry-on in my hand and tugged at the bottom of my dress to make sure it hadn’t caught on anything.
Matt rose beside me with far too much easy grace, polished off the last of his drink, and set the glass on the table.
“After you,” he said, motioning toward the exit.
The temptation to flick him on the forehead almost won out.
The walk to the gate was quiet, him trailing behind me without a bag in sight.
I could feel his eyes on me as we scanned our passports and boarding passes.
Could feel himstaringas I walked down the gangway in front of him.
I glanced behind me when the feeling faded, catching a quick glimpse of him speaking to one of the attendants in the gangway, but kept moving.
I wasn’t going to be wooed by a random silver-haired mystery man with a voice like silk and hands that could probably make me forget how to say my own name.
Especially not one who seemed like he was already convinced hecould.
Except I’d already thought about it.
Twice.
Fuck, three times now.
“Here you are, Miss James. 1A. Enjoy the flight.”
