One of the dogs—the Dachshund—was en route to his sister, Kat. She lived on the Upper East Side with her husband, his buddy Bryan, and the small dog was a gift for their twin daughters. Nate would have liked to have a dog himself, some kind of scrappy breed like a Border Collie that could catch Frisbees in the park and go for long runs along the West Side bike path with him. But he traveled far too often to be able to give a dog a good home. He did this instead; chauffeured pets in style to their new homes. His small contribution to the world.
He returned to his seat, the flight attendant having cleared their plates. Casey was wearing a short jean skirt and high-heeled sandals. He didn’t try as hard today to refrain from staring, but he did give himself a three-count for a quick perusal before returning his focus to her eyes.
“Some day, I’ll have a mutt of my own.” He nearly dropped his hand on top of hers, and clasped it, like they were on a date. He resisted, and, not for the first time on this flight, he wondered if she was refraining too. Not from holding hands, but from talking about the night before and the mind-blowing physical connection they’d shared. Neither one had mentioned it this morning. She’d rushed out of his room to shower and pack. He’d had early meetings on the property. While his trip to New Orleans had started a few days before hers had, he was done with business by mid-morning, so he’d simply made a few final calls and then they’d taken off for the airport.
The dogs had distracted them most of the flight. They’d barked on takeoff, then needed, understandably, some petting and comfort once airborne. Still, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say next to Casey. Or if anything needed to be said. He knew his way around women, but this project with Casey was a little . . . unconventional. Should he ask when their next lesson would be or simply tell her the time to arrive and what to wear?
Tight leather skirt, no panties, and heels. Oh hell, there went any semblance of concentration.
“When you get this mutt of your own someday, what will you name him?” she asked, twirling a strand of her hair around a finger. Maybe she was nervous, too. Wait, was he nervous? Hell no. Nate didn’t get nervous.
“Fred,” he said dryly.
She rolled her eyes. “How about Paul?”
“Or maybe just Mark. I always thought it would be funny to give a dog a completely human name, and then when you’re in Central Park to call him back to you. Not with C’mere Fido, or C’mere Max, but C’Mere Mark. Come on now, Ethan.”
Casey smiled and laughed, kicking her leg back and forth, like a pendulum. Okay, she was nervous. He needed to say something.
Instead, his brain tripped on the name he’d just shared. Ethan. “That reminds me. I haven’t seen Ethan Holmes in a while.”
“Ethan at the Victoria Hotels, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We worked together at the Luxe, back when I was VP of biz dev. He was in operations, and we were both up for the top job. Good guy, but I haven’t talked to him much since he left when he didn’t get the CEO gig.”
“I hear Victoria is trying to revamp its image a little. That the chain is seen as a bit stuffy, and they want to appeal to a younger crowd.”
“Yeah. I heard that too. I should check in. See if he wants to catch a Yankees game. We had a vendor who gave us tickets to his box seats. I’ll have to give him a shout when I get back.”
“So Ethan’s a no-go then for your future dog’s name,” she said with a wry smile.
He snapped his fingers. “I know what to name my future dog. Jim, after the comedian,” he mused, and her eyes lit up.
“His show was so great. Remember?” she said, nudging him. “We were laughing all night when I took you to see him.”
For his birthday last year when he’d turned thirty-two, she’d taken him to a Jim Gaffigan stand-up show, and they were nearly doubled over during his Hot Pockets bit. It occurred to him then that he was hunting for any sort of connection, and that even suggesting he’d name a dog someday after a gift she’d given him was his roundabout way of tying this conversation back to them.
But he didn’t plan to psychoanalyze the fact that he wasn’t sure what to say to the woman he’d made cry out his name last night. Deep down, he already knew why he was struggling to broach the topic. Because he could talk to her about anything—about dogs, and books, and business, and women, and men, and he’d been able to do that long before he’d seen her beautiful body bared just for him. He didn’t want last night to have messed up their ability to talk.
“Casey,” he said, turning to look her in the eyes.
“Yes?”
“About last night . . .”
Her eyes widened in fear. “You didn’t like it?”
His heartbeat quickened. That was the last thing he needed her to think. “Don’t even go there,” he said, scooting closer to her on the smooth leather seats in the plane. The big jet hummed quietly as it soared through blue skies. The attendant had retreated to the front of the cabin, giving them privacy.
She brought her hand to her chest and breathed out hard. “Good. Because I thought . . .”
“You thought what? That I was going to say you were too forward? Too direct?”
Red inched across her cheeks. She nodded.
“But you weren’t either of those,” he said, his lips curving up as he raised his hand, brushing a finger down her cheek. “You did great.”
“I did?”
He nodded. “Yes. What did you think? Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yes. So much.”
“How did it feel to let go?”
“Honestly?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Uh-oh. Now it was his turn to worry. Maybe he should have finished things off last night because what if she didn’t enjoy the kind of sex she wanted to try? What if last night had been his only chance to be with her and he’d blown it by waiting? Fucking idiot. What kind of guy denies a woman who’s hot for a no-strings one-night stand? This one.
“Yes. Honestly,” he said, steeling himself.
She brought her face closer, their foreheads nearly touching. His chest tightened, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent. Her sweet lips were so close to his ear, as she whispered, “Nate Harper, you gave me the best orgasm of my life last night. It was better than any of my toys, and that’s saying something, because those bad boys are top-notch.”
A bolt of lust tore through his chest, like lightning heating up the sky. Desire and pride surged in him, and he was ready to go again. Now. Tonight. Anytime. He wasn’t going to miss his chance.