Worth The Shot (The Bannister Brothers #2) (2 page)

She’d heard of having chemistry with someone, but she’d always thought that meant something like attraction. This was different. Sure, the instant attraction was there, too. But there was something more with him. Something that felt like real chemistry—like an actual electrical charge in the air between them. A connection.

Or like they were old souls that had always known each other. She didn’t feel uncomfortable or nervous around him like she sometimes did with really good-looking men. She felt at ease, relaxed, like they were already friends.

Okay, not totally relaxed. In fact, her inside were doing somersaults at the way he absently rubbed his thumb over her knuckle while he looked out the window. Her heart rate had doubled, but not from nerves. No, more like excitement and a crazy sexual energy.

Geez. Calm down, girl
. Maybe it wasn’t chemistry at all. Maybe it was just because she as tired and coming out of a bad relationship, or maybe it was because it was the middle of the night, or the stress of the storm, or because of the intimate space they shared in the dark plane.

He turned and grinned at her.

Zing
. Nope—it was none of that. It was pure chemistry. And she liked it. Really liked it.

Really liked him.

She couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt such an instant connection with someone so quickly.

The flight attendant walked up with a towel and passed it to Ben. “Here, this should help.” She also had a bag for trash, and Addison dumped their empty cups and the wet napkin inside.

Ben finished wiping off his shirt and passed the wet towel back to the attendant.

“The captain wants us to return to our seats and get buckled in for a bit,” the attendant told them. “Is there anything else you need before I sit down?”

Yes, a bucket of ice water to cool her down. Thoughts of Ben’s hard abs and thickly muscled arms filled her mind, and flickers of desire heated her insides. Yes, some ice water would be good—just pour it right on her head.

“Are we almost through the storm?” Ben asked.

“There’s a good-sized front moving through, and it may get worse before it gets better,” the attendant told him. “But there’s a seasoned pilot flying the plane, and he’ll get us safely on the ground. But keep your seatbelt buckled for now.” She smiled encouragingly and moved up the row.

The flight attendants dimmed the lights in the cabin, leaving only the glimmer of the running lights on the floor and the occasional reading lamp on, then buckled into their seats. A lot of the passengers were sleeping, the more seasoned travelers not bothered by the occasional turbulence.

Addison realized that she was still holding her seatmate’s hand—their linked fingers resting easily against his muscled leg.

Holy cow
. Everything about this guy was firm and strong. Except his tolerance of the bumpy flight.

She looked over at him, and he gave her another of his panty-melting grins. “I think we just need to get your mind off the flight,” she said.

“Okay, what do you suggest we do to take our minds off the bumpy ride?” He gave her a sly grin.

Zing.
Another shot of heat darted through her body. She shook her head. “I was thinking of starting some stimulating conversation. Let’s talk about something that will distract you.”

“All right. Like what?”

This was her chance to get to know him better. Get to know the
real
him. “Umm—so let’s not talk about any of the normal boring stuff—so nothing else about our jobs or our families. Let’s imagine that we’re somewhere else—not on a plane in the middle of a snow storm, but on a virtual vacation. If you could be anywhere else right now, where would it be?”

“Do I get to bring you with me on this virtual vacation thing?” His brown eyes sparkled with mischief.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry at the thought of being anywhere alone with him. Trying for nonchalance, she offered an easy shrug. “It’s your vacation.”

“All right.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head up to think. Addie had an insane urge to lean in and kiss his neck. He opened his eyes and narrowed them at her, almost as if he could read her lust-filled thoughts. “I’m picturing a sandy beach, warm water in the ocean, so probably Mexico. I can see you coming out of the water, hair wet, wearing a blue bikini. How am I doing?”

“Close. I do love the beaches in Mexico, but my bikini’s red.”

He grinned. “Damn. This virtual vacation is getting better and better.” He settled back in his seat, a little more at ease, her hand still solidly tucked in his. “I see a couple of lounge chairs, a big umbrella, I’m reading the latest thriller novel and you’re reading a steamy romance. A waiter wanders down the beach and brings us…” He cocked his head at her. “What?”

“Let’s see—in Mexico? Definitely frozen mudslides.”

“Excellent choice.” He licked his lips, and she almost came undone.

She needed to get a handle on this. Quit imagining him half-naked on the beach. Her mouth practically watered at the thought of his muscled body lying in a lounge chair next to her. And he’d said he’d be reading a book. A man reading a book was off-the-charts sexy in her mind.

“A day at the beach sounds great,” she said. “Then what?”

“Okay, after a day spent lounging on the beach, I think we need a night out. Dinner and dancing. I imagine we’re staying at a resort with all of that on site, so where am I taking you for dinner? Italian? Mexican? A steak? What’s your favorite?”

“Pizza is my most favorite food,” she answered, with no hesitation. “Doesn’t matter if it’s thin crust, thick, pan—as long as it’s got melted and gooey cheese on top—I love it.”

He chuckled. “All right, a girl that loves pizza and her steaks rare. I like it. I would have to agree. I’ll eat any kind of pizza. Anything except mushrooms. I hate mushrooms.”

Hated mushrooms? Good. Suddenly she liked him a little better.

“Any kind of Italian food is my favorite,” he said. “Bowls of pasta covered in sauce and cheese melted on everything. Sounds perfect.”

By the looks of his muscles, he could handle the carb load of a giant bowl of pasta.

“So, we have a big meal of pasta and chicken parmesan then go dancing. How about karaoke? Will this vacation involve bad singing?” she asked.

A laugh escaped his lips. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very good singer. In fact, I used to sing with my brother in his band. And I even play a little guitar.”

Oh, holy hotness
. Did he say he played guitar? Cute, muscles,
and
in a band? Could this guy even be real? “You’ll have to handle the karaoke then, because I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. So no singing for me.”

“Ah, everybody can sing. Maybe everyone shouldn’t record an album, but everybody can sing.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “So, after a day spent half-naked on the beach, a delicious meal covered in melted cheese, a night of dancing—where I’m sure you’re wearing an amazing backless dress—what happens next? It’s your turn. Tell me what happens after we go dancing.”

He asked the question with a naughty smirk. Almost as if he were daring her to take their virtual date to the next level.

She grinned back. “That’s easy.”

Leaning forward, his shoulder barely touched hers, and his voice was low and husky. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “We get a pizza, take it down to the beach, and watch the waves roll in while we talk all night.”

He laughed, a warm, hearty laugh, then squeezed her hand. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’d been thinking.”

The plane hit a hard pocket of turbulence, bumping and rocking, and his laughter died on his lips. He gripped her hand. “Shit.” He shrugged. “Sorry, I just hate this stuff.”

“I get it.” He looked so scared, she wanted to give him a hug, which would be a little awkward in the airplane seats. For now, it was enough to hold his hand. “Let’s try something new. Vacation was fun, but let’s get serious now.”

He grinned, his expression not serious at all. “Okay, I’m ready.”

She intentionally lowered her voice to a more serious tone. “Tell me your most embarrassing moment on a date.”

He laughed. “Oh—I see how it is. You’re really getting deep.” He stroked his chin, brushing the dark bristles of his day-old beard.

Dang. What was so flippin’ sexy about a scruff of dark beard on a guy’s face? It didn’t make sense, but she knew she liked it.

“So, this was a few years ago, back in college. I’d met this girl in my English Lit class and asked her out on a date. I really wanted to impress her, so I thought I’d dress up a little, throw on a little of the ‘good stuff’ aftershave.”

She settled into her seat, leaning toward him to listen to his story. He must have put on a little of the “good stuff” today as well, because he smelled amazing. All woodsy, with a hint of musk.

“Unfortunately, I must have had a growth spurt since arriving at college, because when I went to try on my favorite khakis, they seemed to have shrunk, just a little too short and a little too snug in the waist. But I’d already told her I was taking her to a nice restaurant, and I didn’t have time to do anything else, so I sucked it up and wore the pants, not thinking it would matter that much. That was my downfall—not thinking.

“I took her to this nice place. It was crowded, though, and our table was in the center of the room. Right as I sat down in the chair, I heard a rip and felt my pants give. I knew that I’d split them and would most likely have to stay seated in that chair for the rest of my life. No way was I getting up and walking out of that restaurant.”

She laughed, imagining the embarrassed college kid. “Oh, no. What did you do?”

He laughed along with her. “Oh man, I was so embarrassed, I couldn’t think straight. I could barely talk to her, couldn’t focus on what she was saying, and I sure couldn’t eat. All I could think about was how I was going to have to eventually get up and leave that restaurant with my pants split up the back. And to make matters worse—now, remember I was a college kid and didn’t make laundry a huge priority—I’d been at the bottom of my drawer with slim pickin’s and had put on a pair of boxers covered in green shamrocks.”

A laugh burst from her. “Oh, shoot. Doesn’t sound like they were very lucky for you that night.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no. There was no getting lucky for me that night, in any sense of the word. The girl thought I was an absolute idiot because I couldn’t hold a normal conversation. And when we finally did leave the restaurant, I was rushing so much to get out of there, I tripped on my own feet, and bumped into a waiter carrying a tray of food. The tray slipped, spilling all the food and splattering my traitorous pants with spaghetti sauce and meatballs. Luckily, my date had gotten out of the way, but it was awful. She claimed to suddenly not feel so well and asked if I could just take her home. And that, not surprisingly, was my last date with her. I threw the pants in the trash when I got home.”

He let out a sigh, his shoulders more relaxed. “Now I always make sure my pants fit before I go out on a date.”

How many dates did he go out on? He was so ridiculously cute, and charming, she imagined women were beating down his door to go on dates with him, split pants or no pants at all. The thought of him wearing only a pair of boxers covered in four-leaf clovers had her wishing she might be the one to get lucky. But maybe he was already getting lucky. Maybe he went on tons of dates. Or worse, had a girlfriend.

Don’t ask him. Keep your mouth shut.
She traced the lace on the armrest between them. “So, do you go out on a lot of dates? Or are you dating someone special?” Urrgg. Someone special? Really? She made it sound like the 1950s. She may as well have asked if he was currently going steady.

“Nope, no one special,” he said, a grin covering his face. “In fact, our virtual vacation date on the beach was the first date I’ve been on in months. I’ve been pretty focused on work lately.”

A happy thrill ran through her. “Me too.” She held up her hand. “But hey, no talking about work.” She peered out the window at the snow flurries. “I’ve got a new question. Since Christmas is almost here, let’s talk about favorite holiday traditions. At my house, we always get to open one present on Christmas Eve, and it’s always new pajamas. I think my mom wanted us to look nice in the pictures Christmas morning. But it’s a tradition now, and my mom has so much fun finding pajamas for us. And I love getting new jammies every year.”

He nodded. “I like that. It’s cool.” He narrowed his eyes, a naughty gleam sparking in them. “I’m imagining you in some Christmas pajamas right now. Skimpy, a little red velvet, a little lace, maybe a Santa hat.”

She laughed and bumped his shoulder with hers. Although the thought of her in his imagined pajamas and him in
no
pajamas had Christmas fantasies running wild in her head. “Good try. But more like head-to-toe cozy flannel. And fuzzy slippers.”

He shrugged. “I like my Christmas nightie idea better. And now I know what to ask for from Santa for Christmas this year.”

She liked the comfortable way he flirted with her. It heated her skin, made her thoughts go to places that involved bare skin and soft touches, but also made her laugh. He had an easy charm, playful—like he enjoyed making her feel good by teasing and flirting with her.