Crazy for You (3 page)

She stopped his hands with hers. “Just let me
get the big stuff off. It will dry on there and everything.”

Tasha watched as his gaze fell to her hand
for a moment. Then he removed his hand from beneath hers, finished
fastening the computer back together, and sat both it and his
briefcase at his feet. He looked at her in defiance. “Put on your
seat belt.”

Surprised, Tasha stared back at him.
“What?”

“Put on your seat belt. You’re a walking
disaster. The way things are going this plane will crash. Put on
your seat belt.” He reached down to securely fasten his with a loud
snap, his gaze still connected with hers.

Tasha did as she was told, breaking the
connection with his eyes. The seat belt sign was on anyway, she
reasoned. She wasn’t doing it because he’d ordered her to do it, or
anything. Then she glanced at him once more. He’d laid his head
back against the headrest, his eyes were closed, his fingers laced
together over his abdomen. She let her perusal drift slowly over
him, from head to knee—and was almost afraid to admit that she
liked what she saw. He was just too damned attractive for her own
good. Who would have thought it? A man in a suit? He appeared to be
asleep. But Tasha knew better.

He was avoiding her.

It was then, the calm after the storm, that
she realized that her heart was beating rapidly. And it wasn’t from
exhaustion. It was from sexual energy, pure and simple. The vibes
were good, as her mother would say. Even for a businessman.

Turning, she forced herself to look out the
window, and dismissed him as he did her. The airport raced rapidly
by and the plane nosed higher into the air.

****

Why was it, Andrew thought to himself as he
felt the plane rumble, lift, and become airborne, that he always
seemed to find himself seated next to a lunatic? It never failed.
In movies, at restaurants, and always on an airplane, crazy people
searched him out to sit next to him. Like he was a magnet or
something. A nut magnet.

Much to his chagrin, however, the magnetic
field appeared to be pulling in reverse. He was attached to
the
nut
.

He’d tried not to look at her as she’d
bumbled down the aisle. He’d heard the flight attendant point out
the seat next to his and had cringed. He hated being closed in,
that’s why he’d wanted the aisle and had been relieved when he’d
realized, as the plane was filling, that it might be empty. Being
slightly claustrophobic, the aisle and an empty seat next to him
always helped somewhat. But now, here she was. All five feet ten
inches or more of her, he guessed. Mostly legs, as he remembered
her standing next to him dressed in that ridiculous get-up: khaki
shorts, hiking boots and thick woolen socks, a Grateful Dead
T-shirt, obviously without the proper underwear beneath, a bandanna
around her neck and an Oakland A’s baseball cap with a long,
brunette pony-tail pulled through it on her head.

Whatever happened to femininity?

Legs. Andrew opened his eyes slightly and
risked a glance to his right. She was staring out the window; he
glanced lower. Yes, legs. And a lot of leg, actually, running all
the way up. She crossed one over the other and he groaned inwardly.
He tried to ignore the tightening in his groin and clamped his eyes
shut again. Those shorts did little to cover what seemed to be
miles and miles of nothing but tan, smooth, firm, luscious—and yes,
despite her ridiculous attire, very feminine—legs.

Andrew wrinkled his brow as he tried to
remember the last time he’d had legs like that wrapped around
him.

Never, he concluded. He’d never had legs like
that
wrapped around him. Too bad she was a nut, albeit a
beautiful nut. Thank God the flight was only three hours. He’d be
rid of her in Dallas.

Five

Over Dallas-Forth Worth

Tasha watched their descent. After three
hours of trying not to look at him, she finally glimpsed his way.
As the plane touched down, he jolted slightly in his seat and sat
upright. Perhaps he really had slept the whole time. She watched as
he removed his glasses, laid them in his lap, then rubbed his eyes
as if in an attempt to massage away a headache.

Definitely not a bad looking specimen, she
mused. If only she could get him out of that suit of armor and into
some comfortable clothing. He put his glasses on over those sexy
eyes of his and then reached to the floor to retrieve his things.
It was then Tasha noticed that the ring finger of his left hand was
conspicuously bare. Not that that meant anything in this day and
age, her own parents were proof of that, but perhaps....

“I’d like to pay for any damages to your
computer,” Tasha blurted out, interrupting her own thoughts.

He looked at her as if he’d forgotten she
were there. “No, it’s all right. It belongs to the company, they
have insurance, I’m sure.”

Tasha let her gaze rest on the cool blue of
his eyes underneath thick dark blond eyebrows. “Well, if you’re
sure. I can give you my address and you can contact me if—”

He waved his hand in the air. “No, really.
We’ll take care of it.” He turned away from her.

The plane taxied slowly and they waited as
the flight attendant instructed them to remain seated until the
craft had fully stopped and it was safe to stand, and reminded
everyone of the brief layover and for continuing passengers to stay
put. Tasha simply sat, and so did he. Finally, her seat mate looked
at her. “I can let you out to get your things now.”

Tasha shook her head. “I’m going on to the
next stop. You go ahead.”

His eyes widened as he continued to stare.
“I’m...I’m going on also.” She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and
down as he swallowed hard.

“Oh?”

“Miami?”

Tasha nodded. “Uh-huh. Miami.”

Clearing his throat, he stared past her out
the window. “Ah. Me, too.”

“Going home?” she queried.

He jerked his gaze back to her, then away
again quickly. “Uh, no. Business,” he said. “You?”

Tasha watched him fiddle nervously with his
tie and wondered why he’d just lied to her. She could tell. She
could always tell when people lied to her. “Vacation.”

“Ah.” He nodded, then faced back to the front
of the plane. A few people were hurrying off, and a few more people
hurried back on. Finally, the attendant addressed them again to
alert them of their flight status and takeoff. The seat belt sign
went back on.

“You have a name?” Tasha finally asked, tired
of the obligatory banter.

“Excuse me?”

“Name,” she replied. “Do you have one.”

He nodded, then held out his hand. For a
split second, Tasha thought she might have detected a hint of a
grin. “Ah, yes. Andrew Jacob Powell III.”

She should have guessed.

Tasha took his warm hand into hers, instantly
feeling the surging power as their flesh connected. He gripped
tighter and Tasha returned the clasp. “I’m Tasha,” she whispered,
still feeling the pulsing power between them. “Tasha Smith.”

Then quickly, as if her hand were burning
his, he let it go and pulled away. The plane jolted backward, then
turned toward the runway. Tasha felt the plane’s vibrations all
around her. At least she thought they were the plane’s vibrations.
Once again, they were airborne.

Six

Miami International Airport

A couple of hours later, Tasha reached above
the seat and pulled her backpack down to her side. In a hurry
passengers jostled her as they threaded themselves through the
aisle around her.
Rude people!
Turning toward the front of
the plane she caught just a glimpse of the back of Andrew Jacob
Powell III’s head as he exited.

Puzzled, Tasha drew her lips into a smirk and
followed the crowd out of the plane, through the ramp, and into the
Miami airport. Andrew Powell had jumped like a horse out of a gate
as soon as the plane rolled to a stop and before she’d even had a
chance to say, “So long,” he’d left.

What a strange man. Probably anal
retentive.

Couldn’t he have at least said something to
her?

Have a nice day?

Enjoy your vacation?

I like your legs?

Oh, yes, he definitely liked her legs. He
hadn’t stared at them for the past four hours for his health. He’d
tried to make her think he was asleep, but he hadn’t been. A girl
could tell.

Her eyes searched the crowd as they
collectively followed the signs to the baggage claim area. Although
she had no baggage to claim, she followed also, looking for
information about her connecting flight into Montego Bay. Still,
her eyes carefully darted back and forth over the crowd as she
moved along, telling herself that she wasn’t really looking for
him. She was simply...looking.

Was she? Was she looking for a man?
Geez...she’d always had a man in her adult life, didn’t she? She’d
just ended this thing with Mark, why was she even interested in
pursuing a man? It was most definitely not the right time in her
life to do that. But there was just something about Andrew Jacob
Powell III.

But poor Mark. He’d been her friend forever.
How could she have dismissed him so quickly?

Truth be known, Tasha, she told herself,
there was nothing quick about it. She’d contemplated the breakup
for way too long before she’d acted. And she’d not dismissed him
from her life. She still wanted him—for her best friend.

Not for her husband and lover.

Remember girl, that’s what this trip is all
about. This is the week to get your head together so you can face
Mark, tell him that you love him only for the life-long friend that
he is, so both of you can get on with your lives.

It wasn’t going to be easy facing Mark again,
but she knew she had to do it. And she desperately needed this week
to gather her courage.

Down the escalator a crowd had gathered at
the baggage area, ready to claim their luggage and be gone, but
Tasha kept walking, finally finding the information about her
connecting puddle-jumper, and began the search for her gate.

A few minutes later, she stepped out into the
bright Miami sunshine, and watched the small commuter aircraft
which was supposed to take her to Jamaica begin a slow taxi toward
the runway.

Without her.

****

With a thorough and contented sigh, Andrew
sank back into his seat. Closing his eyes, he let his head drift to
one side as he contemplated the past few hours.

He was glad to be off the larger aircraft,
away from the crowds, and on the smaller, more personal plane. He
felt less harried without so many people around. In fact, there was
only the two-man crew up front and three other passengers aboard.
Thankfully, he didn’t see any more potential “nuts” around to
bother him.

But even more, he was glad to be nearly
finished with this final leg of the trip. Two days ago he was
dreading this so-called vacation, now he was actually looking
forward to it, in an odd sort of way.

And, he was looking forward to a few hours of
solitude.

A nice, clean hotel room. A nice, hot shower.
And a nice, long nap. Later, he’d find something to eat and a
little nightlife, but until then, he wanted nothing but pure
solitude.

His day so far had been nothing but
chaos.

Shaking his head, he tried to rid any
lingering thoughts of the crazy brunette he’d shared the first
three-fourths of his trip with. She was so much the opposite of any
woman he’d ever dated—but there was something damned appealing
about her. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Of course, she was also nuttier than a
fruitcake.

Andrew opened his eyes again and watched the
Miami airport slowly roll by and realized, quite by accident, there
was a smile on his face.

Reaching up, he rubbed his hand over his
mouth, as though he could erase that smile altogether. Thing was,
the smile went much deeper than the surface, it was inside him.

No! he thought. There was absolutely nothing
about that woman that was appealing to him! Not a damned thing. She
was aggravating, annoying, and downright...earthy.

Not his type.

Definitely not his type.

Crazy. Yeah. She was crazy.

And so was he if he sat here thinking any
more about her. And smiling, to boot.

It was a moot point, anyway, because it would
have to be one damned, weird coincidence if he ever ran into that
woman again.

Abruptly, he jerked forward in his seat as
the small plane lurched to a sudden stop. Turning his attention to
the front of the plane, he noticed that there appeared to be some
sort of commotion going on outside. Some sort of skirmish. The
pilot argued with someone over the radio. His voice rose. Andrew
couldn’t make out what he was saying, exactly.

Something about a woman.

A late arrival.

Missed her flight.

The door quickly swung open and in one fell
swoop, into the plane lumbered one harried and out-of-breath Tasha
Smith.

She plopped into the seat beside him, turned,
and smiled broadly. He knew his eyes were rounder than silver
dollars.

“Well, what a coincidence,” she remarked.
“Isn’t this just...weird.”

One corner of her mouth drew up into a
smirk.

Andrew groaned and tried not to smile.

Seven

Somewhere over the Caribbean Sea

“...so, from the literature I have here about
Eden II, the Club Regale Resort at which we are both staying, it
says that when we get to the airport in Montego Bay, we can either
take the bus, or, if you prefer, there are car rentals, but I
understand it’s very expensive. Of course, it is a two-hour trip by
bus so, if you would prefer to rent a car, since we’re going to the
same place, then maybe we could split the difference and make it a
little more affordable for each of us and then we would have a car
while we’re at the resort in case either of us wants to—”