by Regina Cole
“Wait a minute,” Eliza said, yanking open the side zipper. “Aha!”
The boarding pass wasn’t the only thing in that pocket, though, and before she could snag the pass and pull it free, the weight of her tablet pulled the zippered flap out of her hand. A clatter rang through the corridor as her tablet landed face-first on the polished floor.
“Ohmygod,” she moaned as she bent over to pick it up, praying that the protective case had taken the brunt of the fall.
“Here, let me get that for you.” An incredibly deep voice from right behind her made her jump. The bag slipped from her shoulder and bounced free, pill bottles and panties scattering in a four-foot radius.
“Did I startle you? I’m so sorry.”
She looked up then. The sexy voice belonged to an extremely well-muscled guy in dark-washed jeans and a sage-green sweater that almost matched his eyes. His light brown hair was tousled in that careless but gorgeous way, and as he knelt down beside her she had the strangest urge to run her fingers through it.
“I saw your tablet fall, thought I could lend a hand since you’ve got yours full. Looks like I just made it worse, though. Here, let me help you.” He reached for the nearest object that had fallen out of her bag, which just happened to be one of her brand-new black lace thongs.
“No!” she squawked in alarm. “No, don’t touch that.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean—”
“Please, just let me get it.” Not trusting her ankles to support her with the damn heels, Eliza began the humiliating task of crawling on the airport floor to retrieve her belongings.
“I’d be happy to help you; after all, it’s my fault.” The guy reached for her bag.
She jerked it back, her nerves jangling. “No, no, please, really. It’s fine.” She shoved stuff into her bag as fast as she could, well aware that the burning in her cheeks meant they were a nuclear shade of pink. Hell, she might even be as pink as that bikini. That might be a good name for it—mortification magenta.
“All right, if you’re sure.” The guy looked a little disappointed, but Eliza couldn’t form the words of an apology. It was like a giant wad of idiocy had wedged itself in her throat. She’d made an ass of herself in this huge airport, and now she was going to be late to catch her connection if she didn’t hurry. What the hell would she do if she missed her flight? He watched her for a while, but then with an apologetic smile, turned and walked away. She couldn’t help but mentally kick herself as she watched him leave.
Once everything was shoved back into her bag—including her thankfully undamaged tablet—she couldn’t zip it anymore, but she struggled to her feet and hustled to the gate anyway. When she finally arrived at C-4, boarding had already begun, so she joined the last of the line.
“Have a nice flight,” the gate attendant said as he scanned her pass.
“Thanks.” Eliza caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. At least that fall hadn’t messed up her new outfit. And her hair, which she’d taken a helluva long time to flat-iron that morning before leaving, still looked shiny and bouncy. That little dose of relief lasted all the way down the Jetway and even as she stepped onto the plane.
But as she moved down the aisle, looking for seat 22B, her relief burned up and the smoke turned into a mixture of embarrassment and despair.
The hot guy who had caused her to spill her whole bag in the middle of the terminal was sitting in none other than seat 22A.
This was a five-hour flight. She was going to have to sit next to this guy for five freaking hours, all the while remembering how she’d acted like a total klutz.
Sometimes life really sucked.
Chapter 2
A sudden noise made Chandler Morse glance upward. There, in the aisle, stood the woman he’d tried to help earlier. Her cheeks were red, the corners of her full lips pulled down as she sank into the seat beside him.
Well, this is a nice surprise. The sight of her pert ass as she bent over to pick up her tablet had fired him like nothing had in a very long time. His divorce had strung out over a year, and while he couldn’t deny that it was the best thing for him, he couldn’t bring himself to break the vows he’d sworn to until the ink was dry. But for some reason this woman had drawn his eye. Maybe it was the blush. Or the way her full hips flared, framed so well by that form-fitting skirt. He couldn’t deny things hadn’t gone well earlier, but he’d done his best to apologize. Maybe being stuck beside him on a plane for a few hours would help her forget about that unfortunate accident.
“Hey, nice to see you again,” Chandler said, but she didn’t look over at him. Her cheeks reddened further as she shoved her open bag beneath the seat in front of her.
His lips curled into a smile as she fumbled in her bag, trying to rearrange the contents so it would zip again. Her black sweater was V-necked, the loose knit large enough that he could occasionally see flashes of skin. Her dark hair swung with her movements, catching the late morning light that shone through the small window beside him. And her ass, well, that was curved and tight and his palms fairly itched to touch it.
She sat up then, and he pretended to be very interested in the flight attendant giving the safety talk at the front of the plane.
“Mind shutting the window shade?”
He glanced over at her. She was squinting in the brightness that glared off the airplane wing.
“Sure,” Chandler said with an easy smile. He slid the shade down.
“Thanks.” She unfolded her boarding pass and smoothed it across her lap. It was easy to read her name.
Eliza Jackson. He tried it out silently. It suited her. Eliza. Liza. Nice name for a beautiful woman.
“So, where are you from?”
Chandler’s question was met with silence as the plane rounded onto the runway.
Finally, Eliza glanced over at him, her dark lashes shuttering her eyes. “Um, the Midwest.”
Undaunted by her non-answer, Chandler smiled. “Nice. I’m from North Carolina. Thus the slight drawl.” He gave his trademark grin, the one that never failed to get a woman to smile back at him even if she didn’t want to.
Nothing from Eliza. She seemed determined to focus on the floor, or the seat back in front of her. Basically anything to keep from looking at him. Of course, he couldn’t really blame her, but he was disappointed anyway. Had his failed marriage screwed up his game that bad? The aircraft picked up speed as it moved down the runway.
He tried again. “I live near the coast, the Outer Banks. You ever been? They’re some of the most beautiful beaches in the world.”
“No. I haven’t.” She closed her eyes as the plane lifted off, her knuckles white as they gripped the armrests.
Chandler watched her as the plane trembled with the effort of its ascent. A little line appeared between her brows, as if she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the process of flying. He wanted to reach over and grab her hand, reassure her, maybe even see if her lips were as soft as they looked.
Instead, he opted for conversation.
“Ever been to Hawaii before?”
She shook her head, not bothering to open her eyes.
Undaunted, he continued. “Me, either. It’s kind of a forced vacation for me.” He snorted a little. Working vacation, more like. His cousin was getting married, and Chandler had been roped into playing the role of best man. Fortunately, his job as private investigator could be flexible, when he needed it to be. “Are you vacationing?”
“Not really,” she bit out as the plane hit a decent-sized bump. She tucked her chin into her chest. Like she was trying to make herself as small as possible until this was over.
A longing built in his chest, and he almost reached over to pull her tight against his side, protect her from the fear. He crossed his arms to keep from doing something stupid. So what if they had chemistry? Right now she obviously needed to get through the takeoff. He’d wait until the plane had leveled off, and then he’d attempt conversation again. Draw her out. Get her phone number,
if the fates were kind.
But when she finally opened her eyes, Eliza reached into the seat pocket and grabbed the first magazine she came to. Crossing her legs away from him, she turned on one hip, clearly marking their conversation as over.
Chandler blew out a breath. Oh well. He’d fucked that one royally when he scared her into dropping her panties all over LAX. The mental image caused him to smile again. She’d squawked like a chicken when he almost grabbed that thong. It was worth it to see her beautiful cheeks go pink.
Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the seat. Might as well get some rest. There was a dinner tonight at the resort so the wedding party could get to know one another. And if he knew Gregory, it would be wild, full of booze, and run really late. A nap was definitely in his best interest.
Too bad Eliza wouldn’t be joining him. A little bedtime fun with her would definitely make his dreams sweeter.
* * *
The sudden jolt of the flight’s touchdown woke him. Chandler blinked blearily, then stretched as much as the small area allowed him to. His arm brushed by Eliza’s, and as he started to mumble an apology, he was struck by the sight of her face.
She was looking straight into his eyes. Her irises were such a deep, dark brown, like expensive chocolates. Caught in her gaze for a moment, he waited.
“Nice nap?”
“It was,” Chandler said, stretching as the plane slowed its headlong roll up the landing strip. “Did you enjoy the flight?”
“Not really,” she said, fumbling with her seat belt. “Flying’s not really my thing.”
“You should fly next to me more.” He grinned. “I’ll keep you safe.”
The smarmy line was meant to prick her, and it did the job.
“By the way, you snore,” she snapped and bent down to retrieve her bag.
“You’re lying,” he said calmly as he unfastened his belt. “I’ve never snored in my life.”
She had the good grace to blush, and Chandler grinned at the sight. But the instant the plane stopped, she launched herself out of her seat to move into the aisle. Unfortunately for her, the rest of the passengers had the same idea, and she was forced to stand there, halfway in the aisle, with nowhere to go until the line started moving.
Well, it was unlucky for her, but it was damn incredible for Chandler. Her ass was now at eye level, and he definitely enjoyed the view.
Her toe tapped impatiently, and when the crowd of people finally began to thin, Chandler stood and moved behind her into the aisle.
“I’m Chandler, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Chandler, but I’ve got to grab my bag and catch the shuttle. So, see ya. Have a good trip.”
She turned left inside the terminal, taking short, choppy steps that echoed inside the crowded Hawaiian airport. Sensing that now wasn’t the time to push her, Chandler waited a minute or two before following.
Hell, it wasn’t his fault his shuttle was in the same direction. And besides, now he could continue to enjoy the view.
* * *
Eliza wanted to punch something. God, could that have gone any worse? While her sexy neighbor slept, she’d centered herself, intending to practice her bombshell routine on him when he woke. It had started out promising enough, but then he’d had to pick at her. She’d promised herself on this trip she’d be confident, happy, completely the opposite of Eliza from Appledale, Ohio. But that plan had imploded as soon as Chandler started teasing her.
A groan escaped her and she stopped right in front of a Coke machine. It was probably just self-defense. For the last few months, any time a guy had come up to her, she’d tried her best to keep them at arm’s length. After her relationship with Tyler had gone down the crapper, she couldn’t stand the thought of letting another man that close. But Chandler . . . He was nice. He seemed normal. He was hotter than hell, and sweet, and funny. Everything inside her had screamed he looked way too good for her, and she should stay far, far away.
Biting her lip, Eliza glanced over her shoulder. Maybe she should go find Chandler and apologize for snapping at him. It wasn’t his fault she’d completely lost all interpersonal skills over the past six months.
The crowd shifted and moved, and she had to duck sideways to avoid being run over by one of those golf-cart security cars. No sign of Chandler. Oh well. Maybe it was for the best, so she didn’t embarrass herself in front of him again. There was still time for her to salvage this trip, so she’d do it. New Eliza mask firmly in place, she turned down the corridor toward the baggage claim.
Bree had said that the resort shuttle would be there to pick up her and another wedding party member, and she didn’t want to keep anyone waiting.
The baggage claim area was crowded, and Eliza scanned the moving carousel for her bag. It tumbled to the bottom of the wheel all the way on the other side. Eliza muttered, “Excuse me,” about seventeen times before she was able to get to the edge of the conveyor belt.
Her bag was on top of another, and as she reached for it a kid climbed onto the edge, overbalancing and knocking into her. Her outstretched hand grabbed for the handle and missed as she righted herself.
“Are you okay?” Her question to the kid went unanswered as the child’s mother grabbed his arm and dragged him back from the carousel, yelling the whole time. Poor boy. Eliza turned back to the conveyor belt and sighed. Now she’d have to wait for it to come around again.
“This is yours, right?”
“Chandler?”
It was him—big, incredible smile; broad shoulders; and all. He’d grabbed her bag and was now holding it out to her.
“I saw that kid bump into you. It’s not your day, is it?”
“Um, it’s not that bad.” Eliza smiled as she took the bag from him. “Thanks a lot, I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. It was the least I could do.”
Together they moved through the crowd at the baggage claim toward the airport exit. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Eliza glanced up at Chandler. This was her chance. His eyes were bright as they looked forward, strong, defined jaw dusted with just a hint of five o’clock shadow. God, he was hot. He was way out of her league. But maybe . . .
“Listen, I should really . . .”
She was about to say “apologize” when she caught sight of the van at the curb. The driver was holding a sign that said “Jackson” and “Morse.” The clear escape route definitely appealed to her inner coward. A few more minutes of prep would go a long way to helping her conquer her doubts. Not with Chandler, but maybe the next guy would be easier for her to communicate with.
“Sorry, that’s me. But it was really nice to meet you. Thanks for everything,” she said, and hustled over to the van. Yeah, so she’d meant to explain, but this was a neat way to get out of it. There’d been enough humiliation in her life over the past half a year without adding this particular slice of humble pie to it. She’d make it to the resort in plenty of time to change for the evening’s dinner party, and never have to see the handsome Chandler again.
She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“Hi,” she said to the driver as he took her bag. “I’m Eliza Jackson, for the Hough-Trailwick wedding?”
“Of course.” He smiled. “Welcome to Hawaii. Please, take a seat inside.”
With the aid of the handle by the door, she climbed into the van, choosing to take the bench nearer the back of the vehicle. Her hands trembled a little as she unzipped her bag and started digging for her cell phone. It was kind of a relief to know that the awkwardness with Chandler was over. He’d been way too nice, too attractive. It was damn intimidating. A shaky sigh escaped her as she pulled her phone free. She needed to start small, and Chandler had been anything but.
Hopefully Bree was right, and there would be single guys at the wedding she could try again with. This week was supposed to be about letting go of the past and being a completely new Eliza. And she could do that now, if she focused and tried really h
ard to forget about her awkward—
“Hey there.” Chandler grinned at her as he climbed into the van. “I guess we’re going to the same resort. My cousin Gregory is getting married there this weekend, to Sabrina Hough.”
“Oh shit,” Eliza said, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
Chandler barked a laugh as he settled into the bench in front of her. “That good, huh?”
The van door slammed as the driver moved around the vehicle, finally climbing into the front seat. “Next stop, Hau’oli Resort!”
Eliza tried to focus on regulating her breathing, but it was hard to do. Chandler started up a friendly conversation with the driver, and she couldn’t be happier to be left out of the chat. God, this was a nightmare.
How was she supposed to be this different, confident person when he would be there all week long? He’d seen her clumsy, awkward, blushing like a fool. She wanted to melt into the seat cushions and disappear.
When the van finally pulled into the lot of the resort, she almost screamed with relief. All she wanted was to run to her room and hide for the rest of the day, possibly the rest of her life.
Chandler climbed out of the van first, and stood there waiting.
“Please move. Just walk to the back of the van, grab your bag, and go,” Eliza begged in a tiny whisper as she yanked her bag onto her shoulder.
But he didn’t respond to her pleas for mercy, just stood there and waited for her to emerge from the van door. And when he extended his hand to help her down, damn it, she couldn’t help but be grateful for his assistance.
“Thanks,” she said, not daring to look him in the eye.
“My pleasure.” His accent was soft, not twangy at all, giving a pleasing, lengthy mellowness to his words. And as she passed by to retrieve her suitcase, the cologne that had been teasing her the entire flight tantalized her nostrils. It was light but musky, a delicious masculine scent that made her want to burrow her head against his chest and breathe him in.