CHAPTER 4
Claire
“May I help you put that up?”
Claire turned to the tall, handsome man who stood behind her in the airplane aisle. He raked a hand through his dark brown hair and looked at her with questioning hazel eyes that twinkled.
She nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
He grasped the handle of her carry-on and easily hoisted it into the overhead compartment.
“Anything else you want to put up here?”
“This, please.” Claire passed him her shopping bag.
He grinned. “Ethel M’s. My favorite. Wish I would have had time to pick some up for myself.” He placed the bag next to her carry-on. “Anything else?”
Claire shook her head.
She settled in the window seat, fastened her seat belt, and absently rummaged in her bag for the ChapStick, gazing out at the men loading luggage onto a conveyor.
Her lips were raw from last night, and she could still feel Ian deep inside her.
She pressed her thighs together, feeling fresh tingles at the memory.
She’d think she might have dreamed it if it was not for everything being so sore. But the evidence was there, along with so many images that flashed across her mind, replacing what was going on outside her window.
Ian, undressing deliberately for her, all the while holding her gaze, his blue eyes getting hotter by the second. Ian, gloriously naked, propping himself up on one elbow and saying, “Leave on the shoes and stockings. I get to take those off you. Now, take off that bodysuit and come here.”
And she had. Oh yes, she had, letting him take her over and over again, doing things to him she’d never done to any man, let alone enjoying it.
What had possessed her to do what she had done? Vegas? The champagne? The hurt of finding Doug screwing his ex-girlfriend in her kitchen? She covered her face, pressing her fingertips against her forehead.
“Nervous flyer?”
Claire blinked. It was the guy. He now sat next to her, his long legs nearly hitting the seat in front of him. Out of habit, she glanced at his left hand. No wedding ring.
She turned her head to look at him and gave him a polite smile. “No, just tired.”
Well, it was true. She’d barely napped an hour before she’d sneaked out. “I fly all the time.”
She left out the fact that takeoffs always unnerved her. Once she was in the air, though, she was fine.
He seemed nice, was good-looking, and in the past, she would have welcomed his attempts to draw her into a conversation. But right now, she wanted to be left alone to think.
God. One look at Ian, and she’d turned into someone she couldn’t recognize.
“I don’t fly very often,” he said. “But I’d like to.”
Claire didn’t respond. Several seconds passed.
“Where’s home?” the man asked.
He wasn’t giving up. She reached inside her pocket to withdraw her phone. Maybe she could pretend to have received a text. “Virginia.”
He grinned. “This plane is going to Orlando. Are you taking a tour of destination fun spots?”
She shook her head, this time unable to suppress a smile. “My mom lives there.”
“Ah. Visiting, then.”
“For a few days.” Tomorrow was her mother’s birthday. Claire never missed it.
He chuckled. “Yet another tourist.”
He did have a nice smile and perfect teeth. “I guess that’s home for you?” she asked.
“Sure is. Native Floridian, here.”
“Wow. I don’t believe I’ve ever met a native Floridian.”
He laughed. “We do exist, hidden among the transplants and the tourists. Orlando has changed a lot since I was a kid. Used to be mostly lush and green. Now, everywhere I look, they’re tearing vegetation down and building. I’m not complaining, though. It’s great for business.”
The flight attendant approached, carrying a tray. “Something to drink before takeoff? I have water, orange juice, and sparkling wine.”
Claire looked at the glasses of sparkling wine, and an unwanted image of Ian handing her a flute of champagne hit her full force. “Water, please.”
She accepted the small glass and took a sip, noting that the man also chose water. “Not partaking?” she asked.
Though it was only 7:00 a.m., several first-class passengers were opting for the wine, probably trying to get in one last bit of partying before leaving Las Vegas.
He finished the water in two gulps. “Too early for me. Plus, I have a scheduled surgery not long after we land.”
“Are you the doctor or the patient?”
“I’m sorry. I got distracted by …” His gaze flicked to her mouth. “I didn’t even introduce myself.” He held out his hand. “I’m the doctor. Jake Lang.”
“Claire Burns.” She took his hand. No sparks, but his grip was warm, and he had long, smooth, nicely groomed fingers.
“And what do you do, Claire Burns?”
“I’m an attorney.”
“What kind of law do you practice, if I may ask?” He was still holding her hand, forcing Claire to gently pull away.
“I’m a divorce attorney.”
He held her gaze. “I could have used you a couple of years ago, Miss Burns. Or, is it Mrs.?”
Maybe a conversation was a good idea. Perhaps this man could take her mind off her confusion about last night.
“It’s Miss.”
“Were you in Vegas for a conference?”
“No.”
His smile was slow. “Ah. For fun, then. Don’t worry, I won’t ask.”
Claire could sense it: this man was interested. Everything, including his body language, told her he was. A doctor. She almost wanted to laugh, imagining her mother’s excitement.
Stay away from attorneys, Claire. I have yet to see a successful marriage with a lawyer. Find yourself a nice doctor. And if he’s handsome, that would be a plus. But look for kindness first.
Maybe this was the guy her mother had always wanted her to find. Yet, as he spoke, her mind insisted on tuning him out and returning to Ian.
This morning, she had quickly fled without leaving a note or her number.
She’d never forget the picture Ian had presented, sleeping on his back, blond hair messy from all the times she’d pulled it, one hand on his chest, the other behind his head, his bicep looking big and powerful even in its relaxed state.
A bright red hickey marred his sculpted neck.
A hickey! What was she, a teenager?
Dear God. Given what she knew and dealt with daily, Ian was precisely who she should avoid. Passion that flared so hot and bright was often doomed to burn out. Not to mention, the man was an attorney.
She thought of Doug and the two men before him. Nope, no more attorneys. And no more relationships for a while. She had just gotten out of one and had no interest in answering Doug’s texts or calls. Strictly casual was working well for Sylvia. Maybe it could work for her as well.
The plane rolled down the runway, tipped up, and climbed into the sky.
In no time, the Vegas strip was left behind, the buildings and cars looking like colorful toys.
Claire watched them get smaller and smaller.
She spotted the unmistakable glass Lark Hotel, gleaming blue in the morning sun.
Surely, it was the pull of the swift ascent that made her stomach plummet.
In her hand, Claire’s phone buzzed. She raised it, surprised that she still had cell service, albeit just one bar. A text from her mother’s friend, Susan, who lived next door.
Susan: Are you on your way?
Claire: Just took off.
Susan: Thank God. Your mother was just admitted to the hospital.
Claire: Why? What happened?
Heart pounding, Claire stared at the screen. The lone bar disappeared, replaced by the notification of no service.