Chapter 3
ADELAIDE
“You really did charm the gate agent into sitting me next to you,” a devastatingly deep voice says.
I open my eyes from where I’m lounging in my seat.
Ace is standing in the aisle with a bag slung over one shoulder and a grin on his face that genuinely destroys my resolution to ignore him.
Every flight attendant within visual range has noticed him.
I watch it happening in real time, those quick little glances and the immediate pretending not to glance again.
He shoves his bag into the compartment above us and slides into the aisle seat beside me with that same loose, unhurried confidence, like every place he steps into just adjusts around him. Long legs. Broad shoulders.
“It was a boarding pass, not fate,” I tease.
His mouth curves. “You sure?”
I should let that go. Instead, I turn to look at him properly and say, “You do seem like someone who’d enjoy believing the universe is arranging women in your vicinity.”
His grin widens. “Only the ones with pink luggage and sharp mouths.”
Fire spreads through me. I really need to stop reacting to him like this.
He reaches into his jacket pocket. “Speaking of suspicious behavior.” He pulls out a small white paper bag and holds it up between us.
I blink at it. “What’s that?”
“My mystery gift.”
I laugh. “Okay?”
“I’m a man of depth.” He opens the bag and angles it toward me. “See’s Candies.”
I stare. “You bought candy?”
“The best kind.”
I peer into the bag and inhale the most delicious chocolate smell. I’m drooling already. “This is elite candy.”
“Correct answer.”
My stomach does a stupid little drop. “That is a very smooth answer for a man sitting in economy’s richer cousin, holding See’s.”
He laughs and jiggles the open bag closer toward me. “Take one.”
I do, because I’m not stupid, and it’s a chunky piece of chocolate candy. He watches me with that quiet focus. “You’re sharing your favorite candy with me on a flight we got thrown together on by chance.”
“Mm.”
“That’s either very generous or very dangerous.”
“Can’t it be both?”
I pop the chocolate into my mouth and actually close my eyes for a second. “Oh my God.”
He laughs under his breath. “That good?”
After a long moment of chewing and savoring, I swallow and open my eyes. “I need at least four more immediately.”
That gets a real chuckle out of him, wicked enough that a hot pulse rolls through me, deep in my belly.
God.
His laugh alone is going to send me into heat.
Who is this man?
Ace is still staring at me, far too entertained. “You fall hard.”
“For good chocolate? Absolutely.”
“Good to know.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth creasing, that strong jawline, the sparkling green-and-gold eyes. I’m in so much trouble.
I narrow my gaze and reach for another piece anyway. “You can’t weaponize candy against me. There are laws.”
“Pretty sure there aren’t.”
“There should be.”
His hand brushes mine as he takes one for himself, and the contact is brief, barely there, but enough to send another stupid little shock through me. My body has apparently decided we live here now, in this humiliating state of awareness.
“So this is your whole thing, then?” I ask.
He glances over. “Candy?”
“No. That you enjoy watching how people react to you.”
He studies me for a beat, not denying it, which is somehow worse. “Depends on the person.”
The words settle low and hot under my skin.
I should back off. I know I should. I’ve known him for what, an hour? Less? But something about him makes me lean in instead of away, like the part of me that usually plays it carefully has gone wandering off unsupervised.
“What about me?” I ask before I can stop myself.
His gaze holds mine. “With you,” he begins, voice low enough that it stays between us, “I’m enjoying it a lot.”
My pulse stumbles. I look away, because if I keep holding his stare like this, I’m going to do something embarrassing.
Outside the window, the tarmac is all gray light and drizzle, but in here, it feels close and charged. The plane is starting to move.
I clear my throat. “Why are you going to Oahu?”
He pops a chocolate into his mouth and settles back. “Going home.”
“You live there?”
“Yep.” He glances at me, and I grin.
“Lucky bastard to be living in paradise.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, and my heart beats faster.
“What about you?” he asks. “Vacation?”
“Sort of. Catching up with a friend. Escaping my life for a bit before it finds me and drags me back.”
“That bad?”
“Let’s just say that if I don’t get sunlight and a cocktail in the next twenty-four hours, someone may need to file paperwork.”
He laughs again, and that same hot, helpless wave rolls through me. This is actually ridiculous. I shift in my seat and fasten my belt a little tighter, like that is somehow going to help with the fact that this man smells like temptation and laughs like sin.
He notices the movement. His eyes dip over my face, my throat, then come back up, and there’s no mistaking the amusement there now. Or the interest.
We take off through the Seattle sky and come out above the clouds into actual sunlight, and it’s one of those moments that always get me—that specific second when the world below disappears and there’s just light and blue and you remember that the weather is only weather and there’s always something better above it.
I take a breath and feel the tension in my shoulders drop by a degree.
Ace watches me do it. He doesn’t say anything about it, just stares forward when I turn back, and I’m grateful for it.
Once we’re cruising, a flight attendant appears with a tray of drinks, and I get champagne because it’s first class and I’ve had a week. Ace selects the same without seeming to think about it.
“Okay,” I say. “What’s the worst line you’ve ever used on a woman?”
He turns his head slowly. “That sounded dangerously specific.”
“It was.”
His mouth curves. “You ask that question often?”
“Only when a man looks like he’s gotten away with nonsense because of his cheekbones alone.”
That gets a real grin out of him. “I see.”
“There’s also the voice. Very unfair advantage.”
He studies me for a second as though he’s deciding what to do with that. “You saying I’m dangerous, Adelaide?”
“Just that you look as if you know how to get what you want.”
He lets out a low laugh, then rubs a hand over his jaw. “There was one time I told a woman she had the kind of smile that made men forget their own names.”
I stare at him. “Okay, interesting.”
“I was twenty-three.”
“That is old enough to know better.”
“She liked it.”
“Did she?”
“She took my number.”
“Tragic.”
He laughs again. “You asked.”
“I did. I regret it deeply.”
“You’re lying,” he says.
“I’m being polite.”
“You’re enjoying this.” The annoying part is that he says it like he knows.
I grab another piece of candy from his bag and pop it into my mouth so I don’t answer too quickly. “Maybe I’m enjoying how confident you are about being embarrassed.”
He places a hand to his chest, mock-wounded. “That’s harsh.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.” His gaze slides over my face, warm with amusement. “Your turn.”
“I don’t use lines.”
“Bullshit.”
I smile sweetly. “See? That right there. Very attractive, deeply arrogant.”
“Everyone’s used one.”
“I haven’t.”
“What, you just walk up to people and let your personality do the work?”
“I’ve always preferred honesty.”
“That sounds risky.”
“It works better than rehearsed nonsense.”
He angles toward me a little. “So if you were flirting with someone, you’d just say what you were thinking?”
I should not be enjoying this as much as I am. I really, really shouldn’t. But there’s something about the way he asks it. Casual on the surface, not casual underneath. The butterflies are dancing in my stomach, and just being close to this man completely unravels me.
“Depends on the someone,” I admit.
His gaze holds mine. “Try me.”
A hot little shiver runs through me before I can stop it.
This man is going to be the reason my entire internal system files a formal complaint.
I lift one shoulder and pretend I’m not suddenly aware of every inch of space between us.
“Fine. I’d probably say he looks like the kind of man who’s been flirted with so often he thinks he can spot it before it happens. ”
His grin starts to slowly widen. Dangerous. “Can I?”
“I’m still deciding.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It’s cautious,” I say.
“Not from where I’m sitting.”
I hold his stare. “That’s because you think everything’s going your way.”
“Not everything.”
“No?”
His attention drops briefly to my mouth, then lifts again. “Not yet.”
My breath catches just enough that he notices. And because I’m not stupid, I take a sip of champagne I do not need. “That was smooth.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“It was to me.”
I laugh despite myself, and he leans back as if he’s pleased to have gotten it out of me.
God. There is something seriously wrong with how much I like this.
“Your turn,” he says. “Honesty, remember?”
I shift in my seat to face him, still smiling. “Fine. If I were flirting with you, I’d tell you that your face is a public safety issue and your confidence is hanging on by a thread from becoming completely insufferable.”
His laugh is immediate, rich enough to hit me low in the stomach. “And yet,” he replies, “you’d still be flirting with me.”
I let my gaze drift over him in a way that is absolutely deliberate now. “Maybe.”
He goes still for half a beat, and the look he gives me in return is hot enough to make my seat feel smaller.
“Champagne’s good,” I say.
His mouth kicks up into a smirk. “That’s your escape plan?”
“It’s working so far.”
“Not really.”
I glance at him. “You seem very sure of yourself.”
He leans closer. “Adelaide, if I wanted to use a line on you, you’d know.”
That lands somewhere deep and dangerous. I hold his gaze and pray my face isn’t giving away the fact that my entire body just lit up like a badly supervised electrical system.