“And your bourbon, nice and tidy.” She held onto the glass a beat longer than necessary after Westin’s fingers had wrapped around it.
“I slipped an extra finger in,” she added, standing with a coquettish smile. “Think you can take it?”
Heath choked on his sip of water, shattering any pretense that he remained oblivious to the foreplay. The minx merely smiled and winked before sashaying past them to serve the rest of the passengers.
His neighbor blew out an exhale and whispered, “Damn,” as he took a healthy swig of his drink.
“I think she likes you.”
Westin smiled around his second sip. “I’m getting that impression.”
“I’d say your stay in Puerto Rico is shaping up to be exciting.”
“Maybe.”
The shift in Westin’s tone pulled Heath from the particularly egregious grammar error he’d been correcting. He considered himself fairly astute, having years of practice deducing the underlying meaning of whatever slang was popular with his students. The faint trace of discomfort in thatmaybecame across as though through a bullhorn.
Outwardly, Westin appeared just as stunning and unruffled as ever, but there had been a change in his presence. Heathcould taste it almost as clearly as the gasoline aroma from Westin’s glass, which he gripped with enough pressure to turn the skin around his nail beds white.
Heath pondered the interesting turn of events. Was the love affair he’d assumed assured just smoke and mirrors? He’d known many closeted masters of illusions in his day, but Westin hadn’t tripped his sensors. Heath believed his interest in the attendant to be genuine. So what had soured the mood?
The attendant sashayed by them again, disappearing behind the curtain that obscured the galley from the corps d’elite. Though not before she’d cast a look over her shoulder that even the most obtuse would understand. Westin’s jaw worked side to side as he swirled the last of the liquid in the glass. Heath sipped his own beverage, dislodging a chunk of the thick anticipation that clogged his throat. Somewhere, a grandfather clock was ticking to the hour, and he could hear the steady rhythm in his mind while he waited for the outcome.
Staring into the amber liquid as though waiting for a sign, Westin finally muttered, “Fuck it,” and tossed back the last of the glass’s contents. Setting it onto the table with a dullthud,he stood, and Heath scrambled into the aisle to clear the way.
Radiating determination, Westin strode toward the galley, leaving a whisper of Louis VuittonImaginationin his wake.
four
. . .
Casting aside his momentary hesitation, Evan slipped into the little galley, where the attendant stood before a wall of locking cubicles, reorganizing a snack and drink cart.
He cleared his throat softly, and she turned. Big, brown eyes drifted down the length of his body as she caught her shimmery pink bottom lip with her teeth. He matched her smile as their gazes met.
A mile-high rendezvous wasn’t on Evan’s bucket list, despite being a frequent flier, but today of all days, he was open to trying new things. The attendant, Hannah, gave him the impression that she possessed some solid negotiating skills, and he was feeling incredibly persuadable.
Lucy running off with someone else had lit the local gossip channels on fire before the hotel staff had even finished clearing guests out of the bar. Standing in the wreckage of his life, in what had been their home together, Evan’s phone had lit up with one message after another until he’d turned the damned thing off and tossed it into his luggage.
“Something I can help you with, Mr. Westin?”
He wouldn’t be passing up any opportunities to clear his mind—or other body parts.
He dipped his head back toward the restroom doorway. “Hand soap looks a little low.”
“Well, that’s unacceptable.” She grabbed a slender bottle from one of the cupboards and approached him with a slink in her step. “On behalf of the airline, allow me to ensure you’re properly compensated.”
He held open the lavatory door and gave a quick glance over his shoulder, meeting his seatmate’s eyes for the briefest of seconds. Mr. Lennox had serious prude energy, but Evan didn’t take him for a snitch. No one else was paying them any mind, so he followed Hannah inside and locked the door.
She slowly unbuttoned the tight white blouse beneath her uniform vest. Her magnificent breasts spilled over the top of her lacy French lingerie, and his mouth watered. This was already worth the inevitable bruises he’d have from navigating in such tight quarters.
Peppermint flooded his senses as she pushed him against the sink and pressed her mouth to his. Tongue sliding between his lips, she tugged his shirt free from his pants and slipped her hands beneath the gauzy linen with a hum of approval.
“I knew you’d be amazing underneath these clothes.”
Fingertips followed the cut of his abs up to his chest, and the muscles danced beneath her light touch, then clenched as her nails dug into his skin on their way back down to his belt. He hissed at the burn, an appreciative grunt becoming a muffled laugh of surprise when she attacked the buckle with the same efficiency she’d shown in the pre-flight safety demo.
“No need to rush.”
