“Do you?” The Meridian navigates around a delivery drone, banking smoothly. “Because the last time you got that look on your face about a woman, it ended up on Page Six, and Julia had a meltdown that lasted three days.”
“This is different,” I say quietly, though I can’t pinpoint why.
“Famous last words.”
I don’t have a response to that, so I just watch the city pass beneath us and try not to think about why I’m so eager to see her again.
We touch down outside her hotel, the Meridian settling onto the street with barely a whisper. I spot her immediately—leather jacket, dark hair loose around her shoulders, standing on the sidewalk with her arms crossed and an expression that’s half suspicious, half curious.
Now that I don’t have Global Dynamix watching me like a hawk, I can properly take her in. She’s small, about a foot shorter than me, but there’s nothing small about those eyes Danny was harping on about—wide and dark, framed by side-swept bangs that make her look almost innocent. Her lips are full, slightly parted as she stares at the hovering car, and I find my gaze lingering there longer than it should. The leather jacket hugs her frame in a way that suggests curves underneath, a body that’s lean but soft in all the right places. She’s the kind of pretty thatsneaks up on you, making her cute one minute and devastatingly hot the next.
My kryptonite.
I open the door. “Ms. Baxter.”
“Mia,” she corrects automatically, her eyes still fixed on the car. “So, this is how the other half lives.”
“Meridian-Class hover car,” I tell her, almost proudly. “Global Dynamix prototype.”
“It’sfloating.”
“That’s what hover cars do.”
She tears her gaze away from the vehicle long enough to give me a pointed look. “And this is how you travel everywhere? Just floating about like you’re above it all?”
“Only when I’m not flying myself, of course.”
“Of course.” She approaches the car slowly, like it might bite her. “Is it safe?”
“Safer than anything on the ground. No traffic, no collisions. Magnetic propulsion, gravitational stabilization?—”
“You’re just saying science words now.”
I find myself giving her a genuine smile. “Get in. I promise it won’t bite.”
“What about you?” she asks without skipping a beat.
I nearly laugh. “Do I bite? That depends. Do you?”
“That depends too,” she says playfully.
She hesitates for another moment then squares her shoulders and climbs in. I slide in beside her and close the door, unable to keep from breathing in her scent. My sense of smell is preternatural, which means not only do I pick up on the smell of her coconut vanilla deodorant (and know exactly what brand), the honey-scent of her shampoo and conditioner, the fruity smell of her styling cream, and the various lotions she has on, I can also smellher. Her skin. Her essence, both sweet and sultry, like sunshine on a beach.
It’s fucking heavenly, a straight shot to my cock.
Easy now, I tell myself as Danny lifts us smoothly off the ground.Inappropriate erections are the last thing she needs to write about.
Mia thankfully doesn’t notice. Her hand shoots out to grip the edge of her seat as the city drops away. Her knuckles go white, her jaw tight, and I watch her fight to control her reaction. She’s trying so hard not to show fear, it’s oddly endearing.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” I assure her.
“And if not, there are sick bags in the back of the seats,” Danny offers from the front seat. He grins at her in the rearview mirror. “Danny Cordero, by the way. I’m the eye candy and occasional babysitter.”
“Hi,” she says shakily. “Mia Baxter. I’m the journalist who’s going to expose all his secrets.”
“Good luck with that,” he says. “The man is boring as hell.”
As we climb higher, I watch Mia’s expression shift. The tension in her face eases slightly as she takes in the view—the Chrysler Building catching the morning sun, Central Park spreading out like a green carpet, the Hudson glittering in the distance. Slowly, the fear turns to a look of wonder.
