by DRAYER, GINA
"So you weren't lying about the storm bothering you."
"I get motion sick. I fly a lot, but I hate flying in bad weather. To be honest, I prefer driving. It's more interesting scenery, and it's on the ground," she said through clenched teeth.
"You know, statistically—"
"If you tell me flying is safer than driving, I'm going to make you go back and sit with Chatty Cathy."
"Okay, okay." Matt held up his hands in surrender. After a few seconds, the plane leveled off again, and the woman beside him relaxed, but only a bit. "I'm at a disadvantage here. I never got your name."
"Beth." She released her kung fu grip from the armrest to shake his hand. Her slender hand was icy cold and sweaty at the same time. She yanked back her hand and quickly wiped it on her jeans before returning to her death grip. "Sorry."
"Not a problem," he said and tried to tamp down the urge to grab her hand again. People didn't go around holding stranger's hands, no matter how cute or vulnerable they looked. "And thank you, Beth. You were right. I needed rescuing. Now you look like you could use some help. Is there anything I can do? Maybe the taser wielding flight attendant can bring us some wine."
"Why, Matt, are you trying to get me drunk?"
"That's not what—"
The plane bounced up and down, like a car on uneven pavement, jostling him forward. Beth reached up and started rubbing the charm around her neck, clearly agitated. "Just talk," she said, then pressed her eyes shut and took long, slow breaths. "Talk about anything. I need something to keep my mind occupied, instead of thinking about Bernoulli's principle and whether the plane is going to fall out of the sky. Why don't you tell me about yourself?"
He wished she would have asked for a drink. Matt was terrible at small talk. Matt spent his days working with computers. Outside of his office, and the occasional function his mother begged him to attend, he didn't socialize. And to be honest, he preferred it that way. There wasn't anything worse than trying to entertain someone with mindless chatter.
If he was forced into social situations, he usually resorted to asking a few probing personal questions. After one or two, he was usually off the hook because people loved to talk about themselves. But she wanted him to do the talking.
After several seconds of silence, Beth opened her eyes to make sure that he hadn't left. He was staring down at his hand, looking a little pale and sweaty himself. Maybe he was bothered by the turbulence, too.
"Are you from Chicago?" she prompted, trying to get the conversation moving.
"Yes."
"Have you always lived there?" she asked, coaxing him a little more.
"I was born there," he said. "But I left for a few years during college."
He wasn't making this easy, that was for sure. It was obvious he was uncomfortable carrying the conversation. No wonder the woman he was sitting with ran roughshod over him.
"But you live in Chicago now, right?"
As if a light bulb went off, Matt finally caught on and started filling in the gaps. "Yes, I came back after school. My whole family lives in Chicago. I thought about staying on the East Coast after college, but I had the opportunity to start a business with some friends. We—"
The plane did a quick drop, and Beth grabbed his hand. She didn't care that he was a stranger. She needed human contact. To her relief, Matt didn't pull away. Instead, he squeezed her hand gently and continued talking.
"We started a marketing company several years ago. We focus mainly on web design, social media marketing, and other online strategies. At the time we opened, there were only a few marketing agencies that offered anything like that, so it wasn't an easy sell. For the first few years, it was hard to convince large companies that they needed to have an integrated strategy that included an online and social media presence."
Matt continued to talk about his company with real passion, and Beth began to relax. She hadn't even noticed the weather change until the captain's voice came over the intercom.
"Looks like we've finally cleared that storm. I'm going to turn off the seatbelt light, and your flight attendants will be by with beverage service in just a few minutes. The weather put us behind schedule, but I'm hoping to make up some of that time. It looks like we'll be landing at noon local time."
Reluctantly, Beth let go of Matt's hand. She rubbed her palm absently. The residual warmth from their joining was a lingering reminder of their physical contact.
She took some time to study the man while he was ordering his drink. She had noticed him at the terminal. It was hard to miss those broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms. But she'd dismissed him out of hand. And he wasn't anything like the men she dated these days. Matt was handsome. He looked like he just stepped off a GQ or Men's Fitness cover. His dark shaggy hair was messy, but not in the forced way that was so popular these days. It came to him naturally. But what stood out most were his striking blue-green eyes that seemed to shift color in the light. She could get lost in those eyes.
But after Robert, Beth tried to avoid men like Matt: smart, sexy and driven. Men like that wanted something different than she could give. It was best to steer clear.
"And what about you?" he asked after a long period of silence. "Are you a native Chicagoan?"
She'd been staring so long she hadn't even noticed the flight attendant had moved on.
"I'm a transplant," she said. "My mom's from the area. She moved back after my parents divorced. But I spent most of my childhood in Africa."
"Africa?"
From the expression on Matt's face, you would have thought she said she grew up on Mars. "Yes, Africa. My father is a doctor and worked for an organization that helped train midwives in African villages."
"That's different. Is that where the necklace came from? Is it some kind of protective charm or something?"
She fingered the necklace again and smiled. "I doubt it. But my father had it made for me before we left Africa. He said since it was carved out of ebony, it was like carrying a little part of Africa back home with us. That was a long time ago."
"But, you do live in Chicago now? What is it you do for a living?"
"Cause trouble," she said with a wicked grin.
"What?"
"Sorry, that's what my mother always says. She doesn't approve of my life choices. But that's a whole other conversation. I don't actually work in Chicago. It's just where I hang my hat. I'm with a nonprofit and travel out of the country a lot."
Beth started to tell him about her work with the Clean Water Project. Now it was time to see where Matt fell on the patriarchal scale. The minute she brought up her job; most guys fell into one of two categories (and sometimes both). They either thought she was an environmental zealot and backed away very slowly or they tried to tell her the places she traveled weren't safe for women. It was almost like a game with her. And it was an easy way to weed out the bad ones.
"So you've been living in the jungles of Brazil for the past year?" he asked with a bewildered look on his face. He shook his head slowly. Beth sighed, disappointed. He fell into the "that's too dangerous for a woman" camp, and she couldn't help the pang of disappointment. But then he surprised her. "What a fantastic job. I bet you have some great stories. Do you stay in the same place for long?"
"A month or two in each village. As a project manager, I travel between different teams. I had a base camp in a village outside of Imperatriz."
"Just you? You didn't have any problems with armed militants or whatever?"
"I had Alejandro. He was my driver, but he also protected me."
"A driver? That's it?" Matt asked.
"He wasn't just a driver. I'm not completely stupid. I contracted him through a private security firm." Plus, it was the only way she could appease her mother. Beth may have stretched the truth a little and let her mother believe there was a whole security team traveling with her, and not just one guy in a beat-up pickup truck. But the less Mom knew, the better. "We play it safe, and for the most part they leave us
alone. The locals are happy for the help. These well and sewer systems save lives."
"And you do all this traveling, but are afraid to fly?" he said with a laugh.
"I'm not afraid to fly. I just get motion sick, and… Okay, I do get a little nervous. But you shouldn't let fear hold you back from something you love. Don't you think?"
"A hero and philosopher," he said with a slight bow of the head. "So tell me a little about Brazil. I've always wanted to go."
Matt had retreated back to captive listener, but unlike with Poppy, he seemed genuinely interested in her stories. The conversation continued, and the next hour flew by. She'd completely forgotten about her motion sickness until the captain came on again, announcing their arrival. Landing was the worst part. The change in altitude always caused her stomach to turn.
Matt must have caught on to her shift in mood. Without fanfare, he reached down and entwined his finger with hers. She looked to their hands and back up to his face as he smiled reassuringly. It was a sweet and surprisingly intimate gesture from a man she'd met a couple hours ago. And she thought, not for the first time, about how easy it was to like him.
"Just a few more minutes and we'll be back on the ground," he said, giving her hand a firm squeeze as if he routinely held hands with sick women.
Maybe she was reading too much into it. Most likely he was trying to distract her because he didn't want her hyperventilating or hurling on him. And it worked; she could almost forget that they were encased in 200 tons of steel plummeting toward the ground, until the wheels made contact.
"That flight sucked, but I'm glad you sat next to me. I'm not sure I could have made that whole flight without Laura having to duct tape me to the seat. Maybe I should bring you along for all my trips."
She meant it as a joke, but Matt frowned. "I won't be flying back to Chicago from this airport."
God, he was the sweetest guy ever. He didn't even know her and seemed ready to act as her flying companion at the drop of a hat. Without thinking, Beth leaned over and kissed him.
It was a big mistake. What was supposed to be just a platonic gesture of thanks, quickly morphed into something else. Beth had to fight the urge to crawl into his lap and take more. His lips were firm and tasted of the bourbon he'd sipped during the flight. And damn if he didn't smell like sex on a stick.
Reluctantly, she pulled back and smiled, hoping the heat she was feeling all over her body didn't show in her face. "You've done more than enough. Thank you."
Matt didn't say anything. Instead, he unbuckled his seatbelt and retrieved a bag from the overhead compartment. After rifling through it, he handed her a card. "When you get home, call me. If I'm not back yet, my assistant will get the message to me. I'd like to see you again." He looked down at his watch and sighed. "I'd love to get a drink now that we're back on the ground, but with the delay, I'm running late."
"Oh." She looked down at the card. Matt Carver, Chief Creative Officer. "Well, thanks again for sitting with me, Matt. I hope the rest of your trip is good."
"It was my pleasure, Beth. I'll look forward to hearing from you." He turned and shuffled off the plane with the other first-class passengers.
As she collected her carry on and made her way downstairs, Beth hoped she'd see him. She wanted to let him know she'd be out of the country for a month. She wanted… Hell, she wasn't sure what she wanted.
But by the time she made it to baggage claim, Matt was gone.
Chapter 2
Modern Girl Tip #3: BE BOLD—So you've found potential fling material? Vacation is not the time to be timid. Make the first move. Let him know you're interested. You only have a limited amount of time.
Matt already regretted taking this cruise with his family. But this Friday marked Martha and Bill Carver's fortieth wedding anniversary, and the only thing his mother had asked from her children was to come on this cruise with them. Matt couldn't say no.
As soon as the ship pulled away from the dock, the orchestrated chaos that was his family started. And he was stuck in the middle of it with no escape.
Dinner was the worst. The volume at their table had reached a level usually only found at a six-year-old's birthday party at Chuck E Cheese. All he wanted to do was nail down the schedule for the next couple of days so he could get some work done, but he couldn't get through five words before someone interrupted him.
"Tomorrow, after breakfast, everyone was going…"
"Matty, are you still seeing that girl from Lincoln Park?" his mother asked. "She seemed like such a nice girl."
"No, Ma. I wasn't seeing her. Sarah was just my date for the Hospital Gala," Matt said and turned back to his brother Jason, trying once again. "So, tomorrow morning there's a tour of the ship, but what about the time between lunch and…"
"Mike, stop making goo-goo at Holly. Rebecca is escaping," Mom said and waved a spoon in front of Matt's face, pointing to the place her precocious two-year-old granddaughter was making her grand escape. Rebecca's twin brother noticed the commotion and started crying, desperate to follow his sister.
"Later, I promise. We can get the twins checked in at the nursery." Holly, his sister, winked at her husband, Mike. "Then I'll have you all to myself."
"If you're going to have free time," Bridget jumped in. "I could use some help with a few last minute things with the reception."
"Sarah? Was that the tall blonde or the busty redhead? It's hard for me to keep track," Terry said, talking over the wailing child. "You do have great taste, Matt. I'm going to take all the credit. Everyone knows you learn that kind of thing from your uncle."
"He's not a frat boy anymore," Mom said. "Matt needs to think about his future. By the time Bill was his age, we'd already been married ten years and had two kids."
"Martha, leave the boy alone." Dad spoke up from across the table. "Matt doesn't have time to think about marriage. He's growing a business. If he doesn't stay focused, he's liable to lose everything. Marketing," he said with an exasperated sigh.
You would have thought Matt was a professional gambler the way his father went on. "The business is doing fine, Dad."
"Sure it is now, but what about next year? Marketing is a fickle business. Have you thought any more about investing in real estate? I know the market's depressed right now, but that's exactly when you need to invest. I was thinking some long term investments like commercial real estate."
"I'm very happy with my investments, Dad."
Matt hated it when his father started giving him financial advice as though he was still a twenty-one-year-old who'd just come into his inheritance. It didn't matter that he had made more money with the sale of his software than his father had in the last twenty years, his father still thought he was living off his trust fund.
"Sweetheart, Matt's company is doing fine. Those boys are smart. Why, Matt even told me they've signed with that large department store downtown. He's even expanding his team. Which is exactly why he needs to focus on starting a family." Mom looked right at him and pulled out the Mom knows best look. "Dating and going out with your friends is all well and good while you're young, but you're getting older. Is it too much to ask that all my kids are settled before I'm shipped off to the nursing home? If you don't watch out, it will be too late."
"My God, woman, it sounds like you're writing his eulogy," Dad said, pointing his fork at her. "The boy is only thirty-five. There's still plenty of time for that."
"I'm siding with Bill here, sis," Terry added, slapping Matt on the back. "Enjoy your freedom while you can."
"Says the lifelong bachelor," Mom scoffed at her brother. "One day you're going to wake up and regret not getting married, Terry. I don't want you to be unhappy, Matt. What you're really missing in your life is a home."
"I have a home, Mom."
"That empty apartment is not a home. It's cold and sterile. Your apartment needs a woman's touch. Someone who can warm the place up and make it a home."
Matt shot a desperate glance across the table, ho
ping his brother might jump in, but the asshole smiled and winked at their sister. He picked up Bridget's hand, the one with the huge wedding set, and kissed it. "Mom's right. Bridget has made me the happiest man in the world. Finding her was the best thing that ever happened to me."
The traitorous bastard. Oh, he was going to pay for that one. Matt was pretty sure his mother giving him relationship advice was punishment in the sixth circle of hell. He was starting to pine for his father's investment advice. Anything would be better than this conversation.
"I'm not unhappy, Mom. I like the peace and quiet."
"Kitty, I'm so glad Bridget invited you." His mom turned, ignoring him.
"I'm so honored to be included on your family trip," Kitty said.
"Please call me Martha. And you're Bridget's sister, which makes you family. I hope you didn't leave a boyfriend at home. I'm sure we could have accommodated one more person." She wasn't smooth and the subtext of what she was asking didn't get past Matt. And by the way Kitty turned and eyed him, he could tell she knew exactly what his mother was getting at.
"No, Mrs… Uhm, Martha. No boyfriend at home." Kitty smiled at Matt, turning the charm up to an eleven. "It's so hard to find men of quality these days. You should be given a medal. Not only do you have two devastatingly handsome sons, they are both gentlemen."
Mom beamed at the compliment. "Don't you live on Lake Shore? That's just a few blocks from Matt. I bet you guys pass each other all the time. I bet you have a lot in common."
"You know, we haven't had a chance to entertain since we got the new apartment. Why don't Jason and I have you and Kitty for brunch when we get back from our trip?" Bridget added. "Our Best Man and Maid of Honor should be the first people we invite over."
Great, now both his mom and Bridget were conspiring. Matt had hoped the nagging wouldn't begin until they reached international waters. And now that Bridget was in on the act, he wasn't sure he'd last fourteen days. This was exactly why he only saw them at Sunday brunches.