“Adam?” Bella called from the golf cart.
He should have thought this through. He should turn them both around and stay home. But he was tired of what he should do. “Come on. You don’t want to miss this.” He climbed the steps and, after a quick word with the pilot, was handed a warm, wet towel for his face and hands. He cleaned his fingers but didn’t wash his face. The skin was sensitive to temperature changes, and he’d applied a liberal amount of cream to help reduce scarring.
Bella climbed aboard, her eyes wide. He glanced around at the off-white leather seating, the platinum accents, and the marbled paneling, and wondered if she’d ever been on a plane before. Surely she had. This was the modern age. She accepted the wet cloth from the flight attendant, her eyes dropping to the woman’s name tag, thanking her by name.
They settled in and the pilot trundled to the runway. Bella leaned her head back, her cheeks pale. He reached for her hand, hesitating before settling his fingers over hers. She’d taken his hand earlier but then released it at the first opportunity. His forwardness may not be welcome, and vulnerability caused his pulse to quicken.
Bella turned her hand under his so that their palms were together and gripped tight. “You know, my father told me never to get into an airplane with a strange man.”
Adam’s chest warmed and expanded. Despite her misgivings, she was a brave woman and she was teasing him. He rather liked being teased by her; it made him feel … special. Not in the same way he felt when he won a case or when his nickname whispered along behind him. This was gentle, like a caress. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not strange.”
She giggled. “I beg to differ.”
He lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “Tread lightly, counsel.”
Her cheeks took on a rosy hue. “Most men don’t have a private airplane in their back yard; therefore, you are strange.”
He leaned closer to her. “Most men want one, though.”
She considered his comment and ceded his point with an incline of her head. “And I’m not counsel—not yet anyway.”
“Why not? You’re certainly old enough.” He’d had Ben run a background check on her the moment he’d known she was in the castle.
She cringed. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“Twenty-seven is not an age to be embarrassed by. I quite enjoyed my twenty-seventh year.”
“You talk as if you’re fifty.”
“Now who’s cringing?”
She laughed. “Please, you have to know you’re young and handsome.” She sighed heavily. “And when you’re fifty, you’ll look more distinguished and your attractiveness will only grow.”
“I feel like I should apologize for something.”
Her mood lightened. “Not at all. I only wish women had the same courtesy to age with dignity.”
“I can’t imagine a wrinkle or seventy would dim your beauty.”
At this, her cheeks turned crimson, and he looked away, lest either of them read too much in the moment.
The flight attendant arrived with their lunch. She spent the next several minutes setting up their trays, adding place settings, and draping cloth napkins over their laps. Bella kept trying to do things for herself until Sarah scolded her with a look. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for Sarah to finish before she took a deep breath again.
Adam smothered his smile. Bella was an independent woman; that was for sure. He couldn’t help but contrast her to the women he normally dated, the ones who had easily let someone—mostly him—take care of them, and when he ran out of patience or time, they found another who was willing to take his place. What would it be like to be with a woman who didn’t need him for what he could provide, but wantedhim? Bella was that type of woman. He doubted she would be with a man who coddled her.
His gaze dropped to her bare left hand where a ring had once been. “Why aren’t you married?” There was no point in beating around the bush.
Bella’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth and the bit of salmon dropped back to her plate.
Adam maintained eye contact, wanting to see for himself what toll the broken engagement had taken on Bella. “When I first saw you, at the courthouse that day … you were rushing in to get married. What happened?”
“You remember?” she asked in surprise.
“I remember everything that happened that day.” He gestured to his cheek.
Bella set her fork next to her plate, her gaze on the tray top for a moment. “I’ve been so busy I’ve hardly had a chance to process it.” She took a small sip of water. “My fiancé, if you could call him that …” She tipped her head in contemplation. “I don’t suppose he did more than put a ring on my finger to earn the title.” She sipped again, and he got the feeling that she was sipping at a well of knowledge, looking back on her life much like she had looked over the beach this morning, picking out regrets and holding on to successes. “Charles wasn’t the man for me, and I think he figured it out long before I did.”
“What was wrong with him?” Adam was ready to measure himself against her yardstick.
