that might beep when she passed through the metal detectors and slow her trip. Before she even neared the scanners she methodically pulled out her laptop and cell phone, then slipped off her jacket as well.
She settled into a chair by the gate an hour prior to takeoff just as the airlines always instructed. By the time they called for first-class preboarding, Riley still hadn’t arrived. Sophie’s stomach cramped.
Frustrated and annoyed by his lack of consideration, she gathered her things and settled into her seat on the plane. Telling herself she didn’t care that he’d stood her up, she pulled out her travel-size pillow and placed it behind her head, settling in for the two and a half hour flight.
Seconds before the cabin doors closed, Riley made his entrance. Oblivious to how late he was, he strode onto the plane. As if on cue, a female flight attendant ushered him to his seat as if he was a visiting dignitary. The rest of the women attendants then fawned over the handsome football star, asking for his autograph and fluffing his pillow and covering his legs with a blanket. Even the pilots took time out of the cockpit to meet him.
Riley Nash didn’t have to worry about following the rules other people lived by, and with each favor bestowed upon him, Sophie would bet he lost more of the manners and sense of courtesy others deserved. All he had to do was charm everyone around him and all was forgiven.
She couldn’t forget that easily. All this scene did was reinforce what Sophie already knew: a man like Riley flirted as easily as a candy man bestowed treats to children. All the times he’d sought Sophie out at the office, it had been to feed his ego, not because he had some kind of interest in her. And she admitted to herself now, that had been the little hope she’d held on to deep in her heart. That the great Riley Nash had some secret crush on her the same way she had on him.
Fat chance. His flirting with the flight attendants showed her that all the times he’d come on to her, it’d been an act. Just Riley Nash, football star, looking for more attention. Well, he wouldn’t receive any more special treatment from her, she decided, and after takeoff, Sophie buried herself in a book and outwardly ignored her traveling companion.
Inwardly, she was completely aware of him. Once again, it didn’t matter that her emotions were bruised or that her mind warned her to steer clear. Every feminine instinct she possessed was on high alert. Riley’s body was big and snug in the next seat and his arm constantly brushed against hers, disturbing her peace. More than once she glanced over to see if he’d noticed the sparks and heat she felt so strongly. Not a flicker of emotion showed in his expression. There was not a hint of a reaction to touching her, damn the man.
And she damned herself for wanting anything from him at all. She shut her book and closed her eyes but the simmering awareness remained, made more potent by his alluring cologne. She sighed and shifted in her seat, trying to get more comfortable.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” a female voice asked.
The flight attendant’s question was a welcome distraction. “Red wine, please,” she said.
“Another Scotch, thanks.” Riley winked at the woman who flushed pink.
“Be right back,” she promised, placing a hand on his shoulder and letting it linger before striding down the aisle.
“Oh, brother,” Sophie muttered, unable to control her reaction.
He glanced over. “What are the chances that this drink’ll take some of the starch out of your shorts?” he asked, his Southern accent coming through.
“Excuse me?”
He turned toward her, his arm leaning against hers, his amazing eyes studying her through thick lashes. “You’ve been sitting there like a prima donna from the minute I got on this flight. You haven’t said two words to me, including hello, and your pretty little nose is so high in the air I’m surprised you don’t have altitude sickness. Drop the attitude and we might have some fun on this trip.”
She opened her mouth then closed it again. She ought to be offended by his words, but she knew he had a point. She’d been a bitch from the get-go and not just because she was uptight about Spencer being gone.
She hated to admit it but she was hurt by the realization that she was nothing special to Riley Nash. And the sad fact was, if he did corner her and turn that potent sex appeal her way, she’d be a goner for sure.
She looked at his freshly shaven face and imagined how her hand would feel caressing his skin. “Do you really think my nose is cute?” she heard herself ask and almost cringed.
He chuckled, flashing one dimple in his cheek. “Cuter than your personality at the moment. Elizabeth with PMS is more pleasant than you’ve been and, trust me, that’s saying a lot.”
She swallowed. “Who’s Elizabeth?”
He paused a beat. Then another. Finally he said, “My thirteen-year-old daughter.”
Sophie breathed out a sigh, promising herself it wasn’t one of relief that he’d been referring to a daughter and not a girlfriend. She racked her brain in an attempt to remember what, if anything, she knew about Riley’s past and surprisingly she came up blank.
Like father like son, she thought. She didn’t know much about Spencer’s past, either.
Riley was her uncle’s client and her sexual nemesis and verbal sparring partner, but he was an enigma. An athlete she’d always opted to stay away from, mostly because he shattered the illusion of control she held on to. The illusion that allowed her to function without worrying about either the people she loved leaving her or the important things in her life falling apart.
“Here you go.” The flight attendant returned. She placed their drinks on their tables, pausing by Riley’s aisle seat. “Can I get you anything else?” The woman barely offered Sophie a glance and when it came to Riley, she wasn’t talking about food or drink.
“No thanks, but I’ll be sure and ring your bell if I think of anything,” Riley said in that sexy voice of his.
The flight attendant smiled and headed to the row behind them.
Sophie tried to relax and took a long sip of her red wine, savoring the flavor when suddenly the flight turned bumpy, the plane jostling in the air.