Heather Graham (14 page)

She shook her head slightly with disgust as she realized that she was at the airport. She paid her cab driver, turned in her luggage for a claim check, and hurried to the check-in counter.

She was dismayed to discover that her flight was not direct. There was a stop at Philadelphia with a thirty-minute layover. She would arrive not in Sarasota but in Tampa, where she could arrange for a car for the thirty- to sixty-minute drive south to Sarasota. It was ridiculous, but being in the dead of winter, everyone seemed to be traveling south, and it was the only flight she was going to get. Well, she thought, at least Raff had arranged for her to travel first-class.

Once seated on the wide-bodied jet, Katie kicked off her shoes, ordered a rum and Coke, and leaned back to relax. She decided immediately that she liked the first-class section of the airplane. The chair was comfortable enough to nap in, and she was, for the moment, all alone. Economy was filled, but first class was empty enough for each person to be alone in his or her two-seat row.

She wasn’t quite as thrilled when the jet took off and the pilot announced that the wind currents were rough, apologizing pleasantly for the inconvenience. Katie listened to every nuance of his voice. Did he sound scared? No. She decided to watch the stewardesses. As long as they kept smiling, it had to be okay.

But still she couldn’t relax. By the time the plane set down in Philadelphia, she had to argue with herself to keep from crawling off it—and she flew all the time.

She ordered another drink, deciding she’d just spend the night in Tampa and drive to Sarasota in the morning; halfway inebriated was going to be the only way to endure the rest of the trip.

She sipped at her drink as the passengers from Philadelphia boarded the plane, staring out the window as men added baggage below. She barely noticed at first when a coat was tossed on the seat beside her; when she did, she was just mildly annoyed that she wouldn’t have privacy for the second leg of the flight.

Then she saw the arms that had tossed the coat down—and the face and body attached to those arms.

“Oh, no!” she gasped. She wasn’t at all sure if the groan that followed was one of horror because she was totally unprepared for a confrontation and growing languorous from the rum or because, with one simple look, Kent Hart had made her ridiculously warm and nervous.

Kent was as surprised as she, but his reaction held no confusion whatsoever; he was annoyed. He didn’t take his seat. He stood in the aisle to rail at her, his hands on his hips.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded icily.

Katie braced herself and tried for a frosty smile to match his tone. “Flying,” she flipped sarcastically.

“Damn. What did they assign you to be … a leech?”

“Don’t be absurd. How could I have possibly known you were going to be on this plane?”

“Because reporters are worse than private eyes,” he retorted angrily. “You probably got the information from Sam. You just couldn’t stand it when I walked away from your almighty interview for something else in my life!”

“Oh, my God!” Katie said low and heatedly. “You are a sick, arrogant bastard! You’re the last thing in the world I’d discuss with Sam Loper, and I really couldn’t give a damn where you go or what you do!” Her voice—as always around him, it seemed—began to rise. Katie lowered it again quickly when she saw a stewardess coming toward them. More people were boarding the plane, and Kent made a large obstacle in the aisle.

The pretty stewardess spoke to Kent, her dimples flashing as she smiled. “Mr. Hart, is anything wrong? Perhaps we could arrange for different seating if there’s a problem?”

Katie didn’t know why, but she would have been absolutely mortified if he had asked for another seat.

He didn’t. Nor did he seem to respond to the gushing stewardess. He muttered out a “Sorry!,” ran a hand through his hair, and sank into his seat.

He stared straight ahead. Katie stared straight ahead. People continued to board the plane. She heard people muttering excitedly after they’d passed them, people who recognized Kent. But they all seemed discreet; no one stopped to demand an autograph. The only bad moment that occurred was when two teenagers went by. Delayed in the aisle just behind Katie and Kent, the two girls began to whisper and giggle.

“God! Is he handsome!”

“Oh, much better in the flesh!”

“What a body!”

Katie felt like smirking—she knew Kent was suffering a severe flash of embarrassment.

But her turn was coming. No one, it seemed, was safe from the girls’ speculations and observations.

“What about the woman?”

“Think she’s his wife? She could be … she’s something, too. Think she’s a real blond?”

“Don’t be silly—her hair is obviously bleached! And he’s not married, so you know she has to be his mistress! Or a ‘fly by night affair’!”

“Well, she’s lucky anyway …”

Lucky? Katie thought. She wanted to die! No, no—it wasn’t that serious, she amended in what constituted a silent prayer. One didn’t even think the word “die” when flying on a night like this!

I want to crawl under a chair … that’s what I want to do! she thought. Not die, God. I didn’t mean that!

She felt Kent’s eyes on her, so strongly that she had to turn to him. She was certain that she would snap something out …

But there was amusement in his eyes. It was so apparent that they had both heard the girls.

She didn’t yell or snap. She started laughing.

He reached out and touched her hair, curling a strand around his finger. “Is it bleached?” he asked with mock seriousness.

“Does it look bleached?” she demanded dryly. At least he was talking about her hair, she thought with relief—he could have picked up on the giggled words relating to their sexual status.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

Katie tugged the lock back from his grasp. “Don’t touch. People who accuse me of vile things are not allowed to touch.”

She realized how badly her words sounded the minute they were out of her mouth. She saw the corners of his mouth twitch, and she knew that she was in trouble. He lowered his head and leaned toward her so that he was almost whispering in her ear. “If I say nice things, I get to touch? Is that rule just for me—or anyone?”

A rush of blood heated Katie’s cheeks, and she almost cracked her plastic glass, the tension in her fingers was so great.

“Get your head over in your air space, will you please, Mr. Hart?”

“What are you doing here, then?”

“I told you—flying.”

“It has nothing to do with me?”

She snapped her head around so quickly that he felt the touch of her hair against his cheek.

“Obviously it has to do with you. I’m on my way to Florida, but I had no idea you’d be on this flight.”

His eyes were very intent and dark. A frown was deeply etched into his brow; he was tense but thoughtful. Returning his stare, Katie inadvertently did a little assessing herself. He was exceptionally striking tonight. His dark hair was a little damp, as if he had recently showered, jaw newly shaven and pleasantly scented with a soap or cologne that spoke subtly of something very male. He looked rested and almost relaxed. His jeans hugged his lean hips and long, sinewed legs; the tailored shirt beneath his gray cardigan was light and contrasted with the healthy bronze glow of his features. His mouth was compressed, too severe now, but when he did smile …

Her heart skipped a beat.

He sighed at last, folded his hands together, and shrugged. “It would be interesting to know exactly when you were telling the truth.”

“I really don’t run around lying,” Katie retorted.

“Isn’t it a lie every time you smile—at me?” he asked.

She sighed with exasperation. “I do have a sense of humor.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” he murmured cryptically.

A minute later they were taxiing out to the runway, and a flash of lightning suddenly arced through the sky. Katie cringed, digging her fingernails into the seat and closing her eyes. It was all she could do to keep from screaming.

The plane came to a stop, and the pilot came on the air to announce that due to delays from the weather conditions they would be on the ground awhile longer.

Kent noticed Katie’s hand first as it gripped the plush divider between them. Her nails, long with that peach and bronze polish, were digging into the upholstery. Then his gaze moved from her long, sexy legs to her blue A-line skirt and her soft silky blue blouse. It was then that he noticed her ashen face. Her eyes, reflecting the blue of her outfit, were huge in her pale and delicately lovely face. She was sitting stiffly, not about to bend.

And more than he had ever longed to do so before, he wished he could reach out and hold her, promise her that it would be all right.

“Are you afraid of flying?” he asked quietly.

“No—not usually,” she replied with a little smile.

Kent gave her a small smile. He couldn’t resist the temptation—the ache in his heart to reassure her was overwhelming. He placed his hand over hers, dwarfing it, then tugged it from its viselike grip on the armrest and held it warmly.

For a moment he felt resistance. Then she seemed to give in with relief. Her fingers curled around his.

“It won’t be that bad,” he whispered to her, and she nodded.

The wait wasn’t that long. The plane began to taxi again, the stewardesses took their seats, and they were soon up in the air. The pilot’s voice came to them again, warning in a casual, reassuring tone that it was going to be a slightly bumpy ride. They were free to move about the aircraft but should keep their safety belts fastened when seated.

Kent tugged slightly at Katie’s hand. “Want another drink?”

She moistened her lips. “Please.”

The stewardess rushed to them quickly when Kent lifted his hand. To Katie’s annoyance the pair began to carry on a flirtation—at her expense. Kent explained that Katie had suddenly acquired “flying nerves.”

To Katie’s mind, it took the stewardess too long to stop laughing and go about her business.

Kent caught her eyes, his own filled with mischief. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah, come on, Katie. You’re angry. Oh—I’m sorry. I guess it looks bad. Me chatting with our brunette friend when I seem to be with you.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Katie acquired the presence of mind to jerk her hand from his. She stared at him, dangerous sparks crystallizing in her eyes. “You forget that I traveled with my father. You’ll never acquire his following, Mr. Hart.”

Kent laughed easily. When the stewardess brought their drinks, he merely thanked her. Katie’s temper wasn’t appeased; the smile that accompanied his thanks could melt steel.

“How was dinner with Sam?” he suddenly asked.

“Fine,” she said shortly. “But if I’m supposed to be the spy, what are you doing with all the information?”

“Sam mentioned dinner to me.”

Katie didn’t respond. The airplane suddenly dropped, leaving her stomach up where it had been.

“It was just an air pocket,” Kent assured her gently. Katie finished her drink quickly. The rum burned her entire system, but at least it seemed to replace the organs she could have sworn she had lost.

“This could be a fun evening,” Kent teased her.

“A fun evening?” She shouldn’t have gulped down the drink—her head was spinning madly.

“Or many evenings … your choice.”

Katie looked at him. His eyes were very dark, sparkling with mischief. He was excessively handsome, though, and his voice was doing things to her spine again. Or was it just that her head was spinning so badly? She gave him a wicked smile in return, one that just touched her lips.

“What are you talking about?”

“Let me see, what were your choices? You can be my mistress, or a ‘fly by night affair.’ What’s your pleasure?”

“Another drink to dump over your head,” Katie said sweetly. But she wasn’t feeling at all vengeful.

They were interrupted, as dinner was brought. Something really nice with steak and seafood. Katie knew she couldn’t eat. First-class food and she couldn’t eat, she thought woefully. But she really couldn’t, and so as Kent commented on how delicious it all was, she stared out the window, telling him he was welcome to enjoy hers, too.

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Hey, you’re a growing football player.”

“No—I’m full-grown already. Too grown to overeat.”

The trays had just been taken away when it seemed that a vicious bolt of lightning came near to wrenching the plane from the sky. Katie paused and shut her eyes. Kent took her hand again.

“Honey, it really is safe,” he whispered gently.

“Then why do so many planes crash?”

“‘So many’ don’t,” he told her.

As if on cue to his words, the bumpy rise and pitch of the plane seemed to cease. Katie opened her eyes.

“We’re flying out of it,” he told her. “Want another drink?”

“Yes,” she murmured. “No—I shouldn’t.”

He shrugged. “What are you worried about?”

“Stumbling off the plane.”

She felt a tremendous warmth from his smile. “I’ll carry you.”

His shoulder seemed very large and very strong. She didn’t think about it, though; she just leaned her head against him. “Maybe I should sleep.”

He laughed. She heard him thanking the stewardess again, and then he was pressing another drink into her hand.

“Finish that and take a nap. You haven’t got anything to worry about. You were planning on following me to Sarasota anyway—I’ll drive you instead.”

Katie smiled languorously and sipped her drink. The plane seemed to be staying in the air, she was becoming drowsy, and she felt that she had all the security and strength she might need from the warm, muscled body that sheltered hers. Had she really clawed him once? It all seemed so silly now.

She finished her drink and pressed the glass back into his hands, fumbling a little as her eyes were half closed. He accepted it wordlessly. She curled more comfortably into her chair, using his chest and shoulder as a pillow.

She barely felt his fingers stroking through her hair. It was just a soft caress, as sweet as the sleepy euphoria seeping over her. His warmth, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath—all served to give her greater comfort.