The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

I smile softly as the air swirls between us.

“And then you spoke . . . and ruined everything.”

What?

I burst out laughing. “I ruined everything? How did I ruin everything?”

“You’re bossy, with a sarcastic snark.”

“What’s the problem with that?” I stammer in outrage.

“Well, I’m bossy and sarcastic.” He shrugs.

“And?”

“And I don’t want to date myself. I like sweet, demure girls, the ones who do what I say.”

“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “The ones who clean the house and have sex on Saturdays.”

“Precisely.”

I laugh and hold my glass up to clink with his. “You’re not bad for a boring old guy with weird shoes.”

He laughs. “And you’re not bad for a young, hot smart-ass.”

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“Do you want to watch Magic Mike XXL with me?” I ask.

“I suppose, although I should let you know . . . I am an ex-stripper myself, so this is nothing new for me.”

“Really?” I try to hide my smile. “You’re good on a pole?”

His eyes hold mine. “My pole work is the best in the country.”

The air crackles between us, and I have to concentrate on stopping my inebriated mouth from saying something slutty.

He pushes the screen and taps through to Magic Mike XXL . . . and I smile broadly. This man is so unexpected.

First class is definitely the way to fly.

Six hours later

“Okay, next question. The weirdest place you’ve ever had sex?” he whispers.

I smirk. “You can’t ask me that.”

“Yes, I can. I just did.”

“It’s rude.”

“Says who?” He looks around. “It’s just a question, and nobody is listening.”

Jim and I have talked and whispered and laughed our way through the entire flight. “Hmm.” I think out loud. “That’s a tough one.”

“Why?”

“I’m on a bit of a drought at the moment. I can hardly remember any sex.”