A tone chimes indicating we’re high enough I can take off my seat belt. I’m actually in the private entertainment suite that sits behind the main cabin. Farther back is my private master bedroom if I want to rest. I move from my club chair, plop down on a leather couch that runs the length of the entertainment suite, and focus my attention out the window at the scenery below. It’s a patchwork of various shades of green, which is a testament we’re still over the warmer lower states that stay green in winter.
I settle back against the wall, settling a cushion against my stomach and swinging my legs onto the couch. I prop one leg over the other and wrap my arms around the cushion as I stare out the window, musing about what my one-night stand would look like.
I definitely think the way to go is to make another trip. I like the sound of Greece, and I haven’t been since my parents took me on vacation when I was thirteen. Except when I go this time, I’ll have to make sure my dad doesn’t hire Jameson for security. Not that he would. My understanding is the only reason they’re involved is because the US government insisted upon it. But on the off chance he’s so impressed with their job on this trip, I don’t want him hiring them again.
It’s best I go on with my life and stay away from Jackson Gale. He’s just going to have to be a fantasy, and let’s be honest, he’s probably not even that great of a fantasy to begin with. He’s hot, confident, commanding, and pushes all my buttons, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a hundred guys better than him out there waiting for me.
And who knows? Maybe I’ll fall in love with one.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve never been the type who would let Marius hook me up or who’d find a hot, random Grecian. I just don’t have it in me. Wishful thinking at best.
“Those look like some deep thoughts.”
I hear Jackson’s voice from the doorway that separates the main cabin from the entertainment suite. My head jerks his way, and I find him casually leaning against the doorjamb, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.
“Not so deep,” I reply.
Absolute truth.
Thinking about Jackson and sex and one-night stands and bucket lists… it’s about as shallow as it gets.
“Got a minute to talk?” he asks somberly.
I swing my feet off the couch and sit a little straighter. I give him a tentative smile and motion him in. “Of course. Have a seat.”
Jackson glances over his shoulder into the main cabin, and it seems that he makes eye contact with somebody. Probably Paul. He then gives a short nod, which tells me that Paul knows he’s back here to have a conversation.
Not surprising, though.
Jackson steps all the way into the entertainment suite and closes the door behind him.
Now that is surprising.
In a million years, I can’t think of what type of conversation we’d need to have outside of the eyes and ears of Paul and the flight attendants. A tiny flutter of apprehension laced with curiosity stirs in my belly.
I expect Jackson to take a seat on the other end of the couch or in one of the club chairs opposite me. Instead, he leans back against the door he just closed and once again puts his hands into his pockets. For the very briefest of moments, something flickers across his face, and he seems a bit unsure of himself.
Very anti-Jackson, so my apprehension ratchets up a few notches.
But then that look is gone, and maybe I only imagined it. He’s staring me directly in the eye, a firm set to his jaw. “We need to talk about your little plan to have a one-night stand somewhere during the rest of this trip.”
My mouth hangs open. Surely he has to know I was teasing. But as I take in his stiff spine, the tiny muscle ticking at the corner of his jaw, and the slight layer of ice over his beautiful eyes, I can tell he doesn’t know I was joking. I can also tell he’s pissed.
Which I actually find amusing.
Jackson Gale is bent out of shape at the thought of me doing something he cannot. The power that comes from that knowledge almost makes me giddy.
He’s going to regret bringing this up.
I settle back onto the couch, comfortably drawing my feet up and tossing the cushion to the side. I give him a sweet smile. “Exactly what did you want to talk about with regard to my desire to have a one-night stand?”
“That you’re not going to do it,” he says adamantly. He then pushes off the door, turns away from me, and reaches back to the doorknob as if the conversation is over and he’s ready to leave. As an aside, he says, “Don’t even plan on it.”