Chapter Eighteen
“The guilty always say they’re innocent,” Hawk told Alex in the car en route to the private airstrip where the jet was waiting for them.
Watching one woman all night shouldn’t have left him feeling spent.
But he was.
Primarily because there were so many people watching her.
Especially the man who whispered in her ear all night long.
“Melissa gains nothing by taking me away from the equation. Her kicks come from humiliating me, causing hell in my personal life. Leaking information to the tabloids is her speed. Bombs and AI-generated threats using my voice?” Alex shook her head. “She isn’t capable.”
Hawk couldn’t disagree more. “I learned a long time ago to never underestimate the ones that look innocent, shy, or appear to be unintelligent. Women pretending to be something they’re not isn’t anything new.”
“Same goes for men.”
“In my experience, the egos of men make them much more vocal about their abilities compared to a woman.”
Alex twisted in the seat and looked at him. “Women hide their capabilities from men, not other women. Especially women like Melissa. If she had presented herself as a strong, capable woman to my father, he never would have sought after her.”
“That doesn’t mean she isn’t,” Hawk pointed out.
“Maybe.”
The driver pulled them onto the tarmac, and Hawk jumped out to lend Alex a hand.
She thanked the driver before taking the steps onto the plane.
Inside, Hawk was hit with the smell of something savory.
The pilot stepped out of the cockpit and greeted them.
“Thank you, Carson,” Alex said.
A plate sat on a table in front of one of the chairs. The kind that was covered, like a dish from room service. Hawk assumed that was where the flavorful scent was coming from.
“I asked Carson to pick up something for you to eat,” Alex told Hawk.
“I hope you like your steak medium rare,” the pilot told him. “I figured you could nuke it in the microwave if it wasn’t done enough.”
Hawk’s stomach rumbled at the promise of food. The finger food that was passed around at the event before the meal was served had been his dinner.
And Alex had noticed.
“I appreciate it,” Hawk told Carson. But Hawk’s gaze was on Alex.
“No problem at all. We were still at the restaurant when Alex sent the message.”
Alex placed her purse and the bottle of wine she was holding on a chair and started to remove her coat.
Hawk stepped behind her and drew it from her shoulders while Carson closed the door to the aircraft.
Hawk lowered his voice. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
She paused and turned her head slightly to look at him over her shoulder. “Mini quiches aren’t enough for a meal.”
He hung her coat in the closet. When he turned back around, Alex handed him the bottle of wine. “Can you open this?”
Taking the bottle from her, he moved to the galley in search of a corkscrew. “How much did this one cost?”
“Nothing.” Alex sat and reached down to remove one shoe. “All the wine I bought is being sent. That was a parting gift.”
“This is a long way from free,” he said.
Alex set her shoes to the side and leaned back. “I still feel like I’m spending his money.”
“It’s your money now.”
“Yeah, but he gave it to me.”
Hawk pulled the cork free and found the wineglasses. “You work every day, Alex. You’re earning it. You don’t have to keep giving the dead guy credit.”
He handed her the glass and met her smile with one of his own. “Is that what I’m doing?” she asked.
“I’m just a casual observer, but yes.” He turned to put the wine in the galley.
“Do you like wine?” she asked.
“On occasion,” he told her.
“Red wine and red meat go together,” she said.
“I’m working.”
Alex rolled her eyes, stood, and put her full glass of wine on the table next to his meal and then moved beside him in the galley and reached for another wineglass.
“For the next hour and twenty minutes, you’re a guest. Besides .
..” She placed a hand on his chest and patted what was under her fingers.
“It would take more than one glass to affect this enough that you couldn’t do your job. ”
His pulse skipped when those dark eyes looked up into his.
“One,” he said quietly.
She placed the empty wineglass in his hand and stepped out of the galley.
The engines of the plane started up, and they both took their seats.
Ten minutes later, they were leveled off, and Hawk took his first bite. The food had cooled, but it was still hitting the spot.
“Did you enjoy your first wine auction?” he asked between bites.
“Aside from seeing Melissa, yes.”
Hawk thought of the man who had glued himself to her side the entire night.
“And your companion?” Hawk fished for information.
“My what?”
“Larry.” Hawk had asked around enough to know that Alex’s dinner buddy had never come to that event with the same woman twice.
Alex chuckled a little. “He looked more like a Larry than a Lawrence.” She sipped her wine. “He wasn’t my companion .”
Her voice held a hint of annoyance.
And that made Hawk grin. “He looked ... cozy.”
“Did he?”
Hawk hummed a yes to avoid talking with a full mouth.
“He wanted to be.”
That was obvious.
Hawk swallowed his food. “Not your type?” he asked.
“If I wanted dependents, I’d adopt children. Not date them.”
“So, he did ask you out.” And why was Hawk even talking about this?
As soon as the question hit his head, he dismissed it.
Because Alexandrea intrigued the hell out of him. And she deserved someone better than ... Larry .
Hawk took the last bite and looked up to find Alex staring at him.
“Was it good?” she asked.
“Delicious.”
“Do you think I should have told Larry yes?” she asked.
Hawk coughed on the steak that suddenly wasn’t going down easily.
He sipped the wine to ease the cough while Alex stared.
“What could a man like him possibly offer you?”
When she hesitated to answer, Hawk picked up his plate and took it to the galley.
Alex followed him with her empty wineglass. “You seem to have an opinion on this subject. What kind of man should I say yes to?”
“That’s easy.” He set the dish down and picked up the wine bottle to refill her glass. “A Viking.”
“Someone to lord over me.” Her tone held a rough edge.
“Someone to protect you with their own life.”
Surprise lit her eyes.
He took the glass from her fingertips and filled it halfway before handing it back.
She took it absently.
“Little Larry wasn’t that guy,” Hawk told her as he set the bottle down in a secure bottle holder.
She shook her head slowly, her lips parted. “No. Nowhere close.”
The plane hit a patch of thin air and lunged slightly.
Hawk reached for her glass with one hand and for her with the other.
The length of her body pressed against his. The hip he held felt like porcelain that would break if he squeezed too hard, and yet the rest of her promised an entirely different experience with that same squeeze.
Several moments passed, and neither of them moved.
Eyes locked, breath ... a little too fast.
Was that her body pressing even closer?
Damn . . .
Those eyes asked for what he knew he should avoid.
His lips parted.
As did hers.
Fuck.
A chime in the cabin from the cockpit sounded before Carson’s voice poured ice over them.
They stepped back. Let air take up the space where their bodies had touched.
“Ms. Stone, Mr. Bronson, we’re hitting some turbulence. Please keep your seat belts on.”
Back at their seats, Hawk finished his wine, and Alex stared at the dark beyond the window.
Their almost kiss was forgotten.