Unable to Resist

by Cassie Graham

  Studying the calories on the candy bar I purchased, I glance up to see Duane still talking on his phone. I don’t want to intrude, so I walk around to find something for Duane to read on the plane. There isn’t a bookstore far from our gate, so I make my way there, picking up a few manly looking magazines.

  As I approach, Duane has his arms crossed over his chest, covering his mouth with his hand.

  “No, I told you not to call me again. I mean it. Unless it’s work related, there is no other reason to contact me.” He pauses, as if he senses me.

  I feel the need to break the tension, so I hold up my bag of goodies, wiggling a bit. His scowl disappears and a smile stretches across his face, seeming amused.

  The person on the other end of the phone talks again and he huffs. “No. Listen to me. Stop calling.” He ends the call and tucks the phone into the front pocket of his jeans. “Hey, sorry about that.”

  Questions bubble in my throat, but it’s not my place.

  “It’s fine, really. It’s none of my business.”

  But, oh how I want him to be my business.

  When I hand Duane his water, chocolate and magazines, a small smile forms at the corner of his mouth, and he thanks me. Before he can shove them in his carry-on, the flight attendants call our section, and we get up to board the plane.

  The corridor to the plane is long and our breathing echoes in the empty space. Why are we the only ones walking to our section? I look down at my ticket. Duane booked us first class tickets.

  This can’t be right.

  There are only two seats per row, and a lot of space between the seats around us. I’ve never flown like this, obviously. That last time I flew, the guy next to me was so…big; he was filling my seat as well. It was uncomfortable at best. Now I can freaking lie down in my seat if I want to? Absurd. Yet, fantastic.

  “You didn’t have to do this.” I look to Duane, feeling a little teary-eyed. The whole situation is superfluous but so appreciated.

  Duane smiles and brushes his calloused fingers over my cheeks, then quickly pulls them away. “Yes I did.” A playful smirk settles on his face. “Now shut up, and pick a seat.”

  Bossy ass.

  His sudden physical boldness conflicts my jumbled brain. I’d love to know what he’s thinking. I can’t get a clear read on him, and it’s driving me crazy.

  Could he be thinking all the same insane thoughts that have been floating through my muddled mind?

  “Mind if I take the window seat? I’d like to see Arizona as we fly in.” I ask over my shoulder as we reach my desired row.

  Okay—I’m struggling. The damn bag is stuck on something, and I can’t shut the bin. A few choice words leave my mouth, under my breath. Duane, amused, takes the bag from my twisted hands and slides it easily into the bin. I give him a stern look.

  He gestures for me to sit, ignoring my facial threat. “Of course, anything you want, but we have a connecting flight in Texas.”

  Oh. Right. I slide in and buckle my seat belt. “I’ve never seen Texas from above. Thank you, kind sir.”

  He winks. “You got it, Darlin’.”

  Thumbing through one of Duane’s magazines, I waste time until cabin is full with the rest of its passengers. Moments later, the captain announces over the intercom that we are clear for departure.

  My heart begins to race and I white-knuckle the armrest. A plane can explode during takeoff, right? What if we hit birds? God, I hope that Sully guy is flying this plane. Wait, he retired, didn’t he? Shit, I’m screwed.

  “Ann.” Duane snaps me out of my ridiculous contemplations and I shift my eyes off of the moving ground outside.

  “Look at me. Everything will be okay.”

  I mentally pffft but don’t turn away from the moving ground.

  Can he fly a plane? Actually, I wouldn’t put it past him.

  “I’m right here, look in my eyes and breathe.”

  I take a deep breath and listen to his soothing words, letting them calm me. I close my eyes and continue to breathe like he says.

  “No, look at me, Ann.”

  My eyes spring open at the demand, and I look at Duane’s smiling face. Guess I don’t listen so well after all.

  “Breathe.” He takes a deep breath himself and squares his shoulders. “What’s your favorite color?” He asks.

  I breathe in. “What? Why?”

  “Don’t think, just answer the question.”

  “Okay, purple.”

  “When was the first time you rode a horse?”

  “I don’t know. Probably three.”

  “Do you remember the horse’s name?”

  “Yeah, Skip.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “What street did you live on as a kid?”

  “Tatum.” I still own that same house, actually. Dad left it to me in his will.

  “Meat or vegetarian?”

  I give him a leveled look. “Meat, geeze.”

  “Cowboy boots or heels?”

  “Ugh, cowboy boots. Heels and I have a very complicated relationship.” As in, I can’t walk in them without face planting on the ground.

  “Look out your window.”

  When I do, we’re far above the ground, in the air. The pressure from the ascent registers in my brain and my ears pop.

  I turn in my seat, baffled. “Holy crap. How did you do that?”

  He shrugs. “You just needed a distraction.”

  “Well, that’s kind of amazing.”

  Duane bumps my shoulder with his and he pulls out his iPod. Putting his headphones in, he tilts his head back and shuts his eyes. He looks so young with his eyes closed. With the signs of worry gone, he looks so youthful.

  With him completely enamored in his music, I take my time to studying his stunning face. His dark bronze hair falls just a bit onto his forehead. It’s long enough for me to run my hands through, and I find my hand inching toward his body. I snatch it back as soon as I realize what I’m doing; it seems to have a mind of its own.

  His long eyelashes twitch on his ample cheekbones while his beautiful eyes are hidden from me. I silently pray that he opens his eyes, so I can see them one last time. Just in case we fall out of the sky.

  Neither happens, so I continue to gaze at his beautiful face.

  I haven’t kissed a man in well over a year and even that wasn’t anything to write home about. I’ve gone on a total of five dates in the past seven years and never got past first base. It’s all my doing, of course. I didn’t want to go further than that. It is a sad thought, nonetheless. I’m officially a hermit.

  His bottom lip is a bit fuller than the top, and it makes him look all the more masculine. It looks like he might have split it open a couple of times, there’s a faint scar near the corner. My mind reels wondering when and how it happened.

  Oh God, I kind of want to kiss him now that I’m taking inventory of all of his qualities.

  I sigh in frustration and lean my head back against the plush, comfortable seat. The dark blue cushion is comfy under my ass but, out of habit, I bring my feet up under me, and take my eReader out of my bag.

  As hard as I try to ignore them, I can’t help but notice Duane’s side-glances and smiles. Then, there are other times when I can’t ignore him because he purposefully bumps my knee with his, or brushes his arm against mine.

  “Ann, want to listen?” Duane asks as he takes out an ear bud an hour into our flight.

  Nodding my head, I set my eReader down and take the bud from him, eager to hear what he has playing.

  Luke Bryan belts from the headphones, singing about wanting to change for a woman because she makes him want to be a better man. Interesting choice. I sneak a peek at Duane, but his face tells me nothing. It must just be a coincidence.

  We spend the rest of the flight listening to the plethora of rock and country music that Duane’s iPod houses.

  Entertaining ourselves during our short layover in Texas isn’t d
ifficult when we pass the time singing songs that we know with each other. I think he likes to listen to me more than anything, though. There are times when he’d stop just to listen to my harmonies, and I let him get away with it. I don’t know why, but his interest makes me want to sing for him.

  When I let myself listen to him, I hear that he has an amazing voice; I can see myself singing on stage with him. It’s raspy and low with a bit of a twang, the perfect combination of country and rock.

  When it’s time for us to board our plane, I’ve learned a lot about Duane, just by his music. He’s a country boy at heart, with everything from George Strait to The Band Perry playing at any given time. Then there are random songs by Good Charlotte and The Civil Wars. He even has a couple Britney songs. Although, that one surprised me a little. He’s such a manly-man. Who would have thought he liked Britney freaking Spears?

  I stare at him for explanation.

  He puts his hands up, waving them frantically in front of him. “I swear. I have no idea how this got on my iPod.”

  I call bullshit. “Uh huh, sure. You’re a secret Britney lover. It’s alright, I like her too.”

  He blushes and looks down at his iPod to change the song. “Okay, so I listen to her while I’m working out. Her songs have a good beat.”

  “I knew it!” I exclaim. I can’t even begin to explain why I think it’s so great that he has Britney songs, but it is. I touch his knee and squeeze in teasing manner. “It’s alright, your secret is safe with me, Cowboy.”

  His eyes shine at the nickname. He brings his finger to his lower lips and rubs lightly.

  Lucky finger.

  We sit in first class once again, I by the window.

  Duane involuntarily puts my bag in the overhead compartment, and takes a seat next to me. “Ready to take off?”

  Knowing he’s sitting next to me makes the terrifying ass thought of falling out of the sky a bit more bearable. “I think so.”

  This time, when the pilot tells us we are about to take off, Duane grabs my hand.

  Even though I know I shouldn’t, I shut my eyes and put my head on his shoulder.

  His breath catches.

  I count to five and figure I must have crossed a line. I open my eyes to apologize, but, to my complete shock, he finally takes a big breath and kisses the crown of my head.

  As the plane begins to lift into the air, Duane shifts us and puts his arm around my shoulders to hold me close. His warmth emits through my body and I instantly calm, closing my eyes again.

  When I open my eyes again, the armrest is lifted, and my head is on Duane’s chest. A silent snore escapes Duane’s mouth, and I grin. Did he fall asleep like this? His arm is still wrapped around me but my arm is also gripping his middle. Does he know we are this close? I squeeze him and smile at the moan that radiates from his chest. His arm tightens around my shoulders and I let all thought of what should not be happening drift away, and live in the fact that I love what is happening now.

  I snuggle further into his embrace, and quickly fall asleep.

  “Hey, Red, Darlin’, we’re here.”

  Duane’s voice drifts into my ears. I shift in my seat, and open my eyes. Red? As unoriginal as it sounds, no one has ever called me that. And, in this moment, I’m grateful. Yawning, I cover my mouth and look at Duane. He’s got a sweet smile playing on his lips. Clearing my throat, I force myself to look away.

  He gave me a nickname. Damn him. He has no idea that he’s slowly but surely breaking down all of the walls I so meticulously put up all of those years ago.

  We both don’t acknowledge the fact we fell asleep in each other’s arms when we grab our bags and head to the baggage claim at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix.

  When I find my bag, I snatch it up before Duane can take it away from me. I turn to give him a challenging look. He smirks at me and shakes his head. Taking the victory, I throw my bag over my shoulder, and slam straight into Jason. I’m so stunned by the impact that I lose my footing and trip over my feet. Bracing my arms in front of my face, I hit the floor with a thud. People around the carousel stop to gawk at me, and I duck my head in mortification.

  “Holy shit, baby girl. You okay?” Jason asks.

  “Red, Jesus. Let me help you up. Are you hurt?” Duane says when he offers me his hand.

  Both men are looking down at me with worried expressions but my eyes automatically shift to Duane’s hazel ones.

  Oh, God. Is it possible to die from humiliation? Only I would face plant in front of the most appetizing man in the world. He’s got to think I’m seriously unattractive—and insanely clumsy.

  There’s no denying it now. I’m a hot-mess.

  I’m still staring at Duane when Jason clears his throat. My eyes move to Jason’s amused smile and I grumble. Grabbing Duane’s hand, he pulls me up and assesses the damage.

  Once he sees that I’m not broken, the side of his mouth curves into a smile. “Dammit Red, are you okay?” He frantically asks.

  I look away and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I hide my face behind my hands and break out into a fit of giggles. There’s a very good chance I’m losing it. It being—well, my sanity.

  “Oh my hell, did I seriously just fall over my own feet?”

  “Why, yes, yes you did ma’am. And it was funny as hell.” Tugging at my hands, Duane beams.

  I scowl at him, but there’s a smile behind it. I push his shoulder and mutter, “ass,” as I bend to pick up my bag. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Speedy Duane gets to the bag before me and takes it into his hands.

  Sneaky hot bastard.

  With an unforgiving look, he asks, “Really, though, are you okay?”

  I dust my ass off. “I’m fine, more embarrassed than anything.”

  Duane, once again, tucks that damn strand of hair behind my ear. “No need to be embarrassed.”

  Easy for him to say. I’m the one constantly falling in front of him. First at his office and now at the airport. Oh God, was that just this morning? I’ve lost my marbles. Maybe I need a longer nap.

  “Yeah well I—”

  “Uhhh, hello?”

  My head jerks to the side. Jason is waving his hands in front of his body trying to get my attention.

  Shit, he’s been standing there watching us the entire time. Dammit. Seriously? I know I’m going to hear about this later.

  I throw a wink at Duane and turn for my best friend.

  “Jase. I’m sorry.” I run into his arms to hug him. “Hi.”

  He kisses me on the cheek and holds me at arm’s length.

  “You look different,” he states.

  I look down at myself, wondering what the hell he means. “What are you talking about?”

  Jason’s eyes roam over my face, with a smile. “You just look different.”

  “Different, good? Or different, bad?” I have no idea what he is talking about. I look down again.

  He cups his chin with his left hand and twists me from side to side with his right. “Good. Definitely good.” He decides.

  His conclusion throws me for a loop, but I put it away for later dissection.

  “Duane,” I call, motioning for him to join us.

  His predatory-like walk makes me think he might be jealous of Jason. He doesn’t need to be, but it’s sweet. My assumption is validated when he places his hand on the small of my back, almost staking claim.

  Jason notices the gesture, his eyes wide, but says nothing. I’m sure he’s just adding this to the long list of crap he’ll bring up later when we’re alone. Not looking forward to that, let me tell you.

  I give Jason a ‘shut-your-dirty-mouth’ look before I open my own mouth to introduce the two men. Jason understands my death glare and flashes his movie star smile. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Jason, this is Duane, my…” I pause and look at Duane. He’s my lawyer. Obviously, but the lines seem to be blurring a bit. “He’s my...”

  “I’m her lawyer, Duane Rynard. Nice to meet you.” He
cuts in, moving his hand from the small of my back to extend it out to Jason. I feel the loss immediately.

  Jason shakes Duane’s hand and smirks, looking at me.

  The psychic ass knows. Dammit.

  “Hey man, yeah, nice to meet you, too.”

  I roll my eyes and turn for the exit, leaving Jason to smirk at the space I once occupied.

  I hear the two men follow me, but I’m alone when I step out into the hot Arizona heat. It’s late September and unlike most of the country, it’s still blazing hot. Perspiration immediately oozes from my forehead and I wipe it away with the back of my hand.

  Duane steps to the right of me on the curb of the terminal. “Holy shit, it’s hot here,” he states while he slides his aviator sunglasses on.

  Stupid sexy lawyer man with sexy sunglasses. Damn him and his hotness.

  I turn to my left toward Jason.

  “Yeah, but you get used to it. Right, Ann?” He questions.

  His bright blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight and I wonder how he’s still single. He’s tall, taller than Duane by a few inches. He’s got short black hair and a muscular body. The five o’ clock stubble of facial hair is pretty sexy, if I do say so myself. I’ve always found Jason attractive. How could I not? The guy is good-looking, plus he can act and sing most people off of any stage. I’m pretty sure that’s big points in the ol’ pro’s column for any woman.

  I’ve just never wanted to be that woman. He’s a great guy, but there’s no—spark and that’s fine with me. I don’t ever want to lose him. I’m fairly certain he agrees, which is why we work so well.

  “I guess so, but I’m used to Nashville weather. It’s pretty damn hot. I forgot just how sticky it gets when it rains here.”

  “Yeah, it rained a bit this morning, that’s why it’s so muggy.”

  Duane jokes and grasps the air. “I feel like I can touch the air. It’s thick. How the hell do you breathe?”

  I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow. “Through your mouth.”

  “Thanks for the tip, Red.” He playfully bumps me with his hip.

  I open my mouth to retort, but the valet pulls up with Jason’s black Volvo C70. I’m not a big fan of cars, I’ve always been a truck kind-of-girl, but I love this car. It’s sleek, sexy and incredibly stylish.