“Thank you for letting us tag along,” she said. “I promise we’re not complete pests.”
“Pests?” He managed a grin.
She laughed softly; the sound went straight through him.
Pure. Musical. Real. That same warmth stirred again, low and unsettling, as if her voice had reached the same nerve her touch had sparked.
“Customs is ready, sir,” an airport official called from the doorway, saving him from himself.
Justin released her fingers and cleared his throat. “Right. Let’s get going before they move our takeoff slot out.”
Miem bustled ahead, fanning herself with her passport. Suzette fell in beside her, digging through her bag as her bracelets gave a soft jingle, a delicate floral scent trailing behind her.
Lingering a step behind, he watched the gentle sway of her hips, the shimmer of her hair rippling down her back, and breathed in that sweet, intoxicating fragrance.
The warmth stirred again — not just under his skin this time, but somewhere deeper, where it had no business being.
He shoved a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath as he followed them. He’d thought the hardest part of today would be surviving another fan encounter.
Turns out, it was going to be pretending the boho blonde hadn’t just undone him completely.
2
It wasn’t at all what she expected. Yes, the luxury was there — the plush carpeting, deep leather seats, gleaming mahogany tables — but it was understated, quietly elegant rather than ostentatious. What surprised her were the details: a small bookcase filled with novels and glossy magazines, and a few colorful Afghans and cushions scattered about as though someone actually lived here. The faint scent of herbs mingled with polished wood and fresh coffee, softening the opulence and turning it into something warm and lived-in. A home in the sky, not a status symbol.
A uniformed attendant approached. “Welcome aboard, Mrs. Bosch, Mrs. Steyn.” Her cool tone belied her words. “Let me show you the seats. Once the captain gives the go-ahead, you can move to your cabins if you wish.”
Suzette frowned. “Our …cabins?”
JK appeared beside them. “You and Miem will share the bedroom and sitting areas at the back,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.
Suzette blinked at him. “But that’s your private— Oh no, we couldn’t possibly put you out.”
He smiled, a hint of amusement tugging at one corner of his mouth. “You’re not putting me out.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she protested, the words tumbling out before she could temper them. “You should have your own space.”
“These seats recline,” he said easily. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ll be in the cockpit part of the time, relieving the captain. You and Miem will be more comfortable in the back. The bedroom has a full bed, and the sofa converts into one. Plus, you’ll have your own bathroom. It’s a long flight.”
His casual certainty only made her more flustered. “Still, it feels … wrong. You’re the one doing us a favor, remember?”
JK’s gaze held hers, warm and unyielding. “It’s settled, Suzette. I insist.”
The way he said her name — quiet, firm, threaded with that easy authority — made her pulse skip. Drawing a steadying breath, she murmured, “All right then.”
She sank into the smooth leather seat facing Miem, still a little out of sorts after the brief exchange, and watched as JK spoke quietly with the attendant about flight time and dinner service.
Then the woman laid a hand on his forearm.
The sight scraped at something tender deep within. Suzette forced her gaze away, fiddling with the seatbelt strap.What a cliché.Of course he had something going on with the flight attendant. What else would a movie star do during an eighteen-hour flight?
Well, not on this trip he won’t,she thought with quiet satisfaction.
She looked up. And caught those warm hazel eyes fixed on her.
He smiled. Just a small, knowing curve of his mouth, but it sent a shiver down her spine.
Dammit. Now he’s a mind reader, too.
