certain the captain took off before you stowed away.”
His beautiful cheeks balled into a grin. “It’s all about the sweet nothings you whisper in my ear.”
“My team needed the jet to check some leads. The chopper wouldn’t make the distance. The C-17 seemed like over kill for just me. Why are you here?” She needed him to turn so he’d see her outrage at his constant bulldozing of her life over the last twenty hours.
“Vail sent me to Anchorage, Alaska.” His greenish-brownish-blue eyes rained on her with the singular intensity of only the best Branch operatives.
She wished that gaze closer and farther at the same time. “He knows better.”
“I don’t take orders well,” he shrugged.
“As I recall, you take them very well.”
Why in the bloody fucking fiery pits of hell had she said that?
“Only from you.”
She’d gone to stitch him up and read him the riot act about making a move solo. But she’d really gone because she needed to see that he was okay. The moment she’d laid a hand on him her self-control vanished. And she controlled him instead.
He surrendered himself completely. The beauty of it, the simplicity of it had frightened her right out of England.
Khani tore her gaze from his and searched for the vested men, the luggage, anything to get her mind off Street’s large body so close to hers, so within reach. The engine rumbled to life, drowning out the sharpest screams of her desire. Slowly they rolled away from the gate and toward the runway. Her sleep plans parachuted off the plane, fell ten feet to the tarmac, and went splat. No way would her pulse calm enough to even relax into the seat.
The aircraft barreled into the sky and she continued staring out of the window as the world shrank, shoving her closer to Street then she ever expected to be after she left home. One minute down. Two hours and forty-six minutes to go. Thank goodness he knew when to shut his mouth.
In an effort to maintain her sanity, Khani forced her mind away from Street and onto her goal. Find Zeke. Sure he’d vanished for weeks, months at a time, but he always warned her before he left. If he ever told her he’d call or meet her someplace, he did. No exceptions. She stared at the patchwork fields, and then the blank ceiling of clouds, and wondered what the hell had happened to him.
“Pretzels or peanuts?” a saucy voice asked.
How had she missed the ever entertaining this-is-how-we-make-you-feel-like-you-have-a-fighting-chance-if-we-crash directives and the beginning of cabin service? They were the highlights of any commercial flight. That and watching drunk people get dragged off the airbus.
“Yes,” Street smiled. Either he didn’t know it was an either-or question or didn’t care.
“It looks like you need my whole stash or a steak and baked potato.” The redhead with boobs up to her chin offered a handful of peanut and pretzel packs.
“I can always go for a steak.” His wide hand rubbed over his flat abdomen.
Khani couldn’t take the time to evaluate the move on a scale of sexy because the attendant’s pupils dilated.
“I bet you can go for lots of things.” Ashley—the nametag on her ta-tas gave her away—leaned in, leading with the money-makers.
“For the love.” Khani couldn’t help herself. “Have some respect.”
“Oh God.” One of Ashley’s hands flew to her bosom. “I didn’t know you two were together. I’m so sorry.”
“We’re not.” Khani sighed. “I mean,” she whispered, “have some respect for yourself. You don’t know his first name and you’re ready to throw down in the bathroom.”
Ashley’s pouty mouth gaped like a fish seizing its last breaths. She spun on her heels and dashed up the aisle.
Street swiveled his head at Khani. “Way to go. No peanuts or pretzels for you.”
“Shut it.” She folded her arms over her middle and stewed. Why had she said anything? Street’s shenanigans and Ashley’s quick-draw weren’t her concern.
His beautiful cheeks balled into a grin. “It’s all about the sweet nothings you whisper in my ear.”
“My team needed the jet to check some leads. The chopper wouldn’t make the distance. The C-17 seemed like over kill for just me. Why are you here?” She needed him to turn so he’d see her outrage at his constant bulldozing of her life over the last twenty hours.
“Vail sent me to Anchorage, Alaska.” His greenish-brownish-blue eyes rained on her with the singular intensity of only the best Branch operatives.
She wished that gaze closer and farther at the same time. “He knows better.”
“I don’t take orders well,” he shrugged.
“As I recall, you take them very well.”
Why in the bloody fucking fiery pits of hell had she said that?
“Only from you.”
She’d gone to stitch him up and read him the riot act about making a move solo. But she’d really gone because she needed to see that he was okay. The moment she’d laid a hand on him her self-control vanished. And she controlled him instead.
He surrendered himself completely. The beauty of it, the simplicity of it had frightened her right out of England.
Khani tore her gaze from his and searched for the vested men, the luggage, anything to get her mind off Street’s large body so close to hers, so within reach. The engine rumbled to life, drowning out the sharpest screams of her desire. Slowly they rolled away from the gate and toward the runway. Her sleep plans parachuted off the plane, fell ten feet to the tarmac, and went splat. No way would her pulse calm enough to even relax into the seat.
The aircraft barreled into the sky and she continued staring out of the window as the world shrank, shoving her closer to Street then she ever expected to be after she left home. One minute down. Two hours and forty-six minutes to go. Thank goodness he knew when to shut his mouth.
In an effort to maintain her sanity, Khani forced her mind away from Street and onto her goal. Find Zeke. Sure he’d vanished for weeks, months at a time, but he always warned her before he left. If he ever told her he’d call or meet her someplace, he did. No exceptions. She stared at the patchwork fields, and then the blank ceiling of clouds, and wondered what the hell had happened to him.
“Pretzels or peanuts?” a saucy voice asked.
How had she missed the ever entertaining this-is-how-we-make-you-feel-like-you-have-a-fighting-chance-if-we-crash directives and the beginning of cabin service? They were the highlights of any commercial flight. That and watching drunk people get dragged off the airbus.
“Yes,” Street smiled. Either he didn’t know it was an either-or question or didn’t care.
“It looks like you need my whole stash or a steak and baked potato.” The redhead with boobs up to her chin offered a handful of peanut and pretzel packs.
“I can always go for a steak.” His wide hand rubbed over his flat abdomen.
Khani couldn’t take the time to evaluate the move on a scale of sexy because the attendant’s pupils dilated.
“I bet you can go for lots of things.” Ashley—the nametag on her ta-tas gave her away—leaned in, leading with the money-makers.
“For the love.” Khani couldn’t help herself. “Have some respect.”
“Oh God.” One of Ashley’s hands flew to her bosom. “I didn’t know you two were together. I’m so sorry.”
“We’re not.” Khani sighed. “I mean,” she whispered, “have some respect for yourself. You don’t know his first name and you’re ready to throw down in the bathroom.”
Ashley’s pouty mouth gaped like a fish seizing its last breaths. She spun on her heels and dashed up the aisle.
Street swiveled his head at Khani. “Way to go. No peanuts or pretzels for you.”
“Shut it.” She folded her arms over her middle and stewed. Why had she said anything? Street’s shenanigans and Ashley’s quick-draw weren’t her concern.
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