“Okay. This way.”
He indicated the end of the hallway, which Megan could see opened into a large waiting area, where she knew Josh would be. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Could she pull this off? Would he fall for her ploy? For all she knew, he could have given up on her and invited another woman to go with him to Hilton Head. They hadn't communicated since he had left her office with that challenge ringing in her ears: “We're not on the island yet, Megan. Don't make any vows you won't be able to keep.”
She recalled that taunt now as she squared her shoulders and entered the wide lobby. He was pacing back and forth in front of the plate-glass window overlooking the runway, looking like an expectant father.
The moment he saw her, the tension in his face relaxed into a broad smile, and he came striding toward her. His casual tan slacks were too well tailored not to call attention to the length and muscular perfection of his legs. Nor could anyone be impervious to the breadth and strength of his chest and shoulders beneath the soft yellow polo shirt. The sunglasses perched atop his head mussed his hair and gave him a rakish aspect, as did the crooked eyebrow, which arched now as he smiled winningly.
“Hello, Megan.” The nervous gladness in his greeting, which came out in a rush, made him sound relieved. Hadn't he been expecting her?
She smiled, convincing herself that the sudden pounding of her heart was due, not to his speaking her name in that invariably intimate way, but to her nervousness over the plan that she must now enact. “Hi, Josh.” Her lashes curtained her eyes only briefly before she lifted them in what she hoped was a flirtatious manner.
If his penetrating stare was any indication, he was captivated, if not stunned, by her uncharacteristic warmth. “How have you been?” he asked.
“Well. You?” she replied, looking openly into the eyes that poured like golden honey over her upturned face.
“Busy. Bishop's like a kid going off to kindergarten. For my sake as well as his, I'll be glad when Seascape is in full swing.”
His mouth tilted up in a roguish way, and Megan's fingertips tingled with an urge to touch his lips. Her lashes fluttered again, this time involuntarily. “Th$$$ thank you for the Stewart account. Mr. Stewart told me you had highly recommended us on the grounds of our high ratings.”
“You're welcome, but I was only being honest. The ratings taken in May show that your eleven-o'clock newscast is now number one in the market. Stewart's advertising dollar couldn't be spent in a better place.”
This conversation was meaningless, and they both knew it. Megan could barely keep her eyes off him, while his were transmitting messages that pumped adrenaline through her body. To get back on track, she winced and shifted the straps of her luggage to a more comfortable position.
“Here.” He responded immediately, and she couldn't help but he impressed by his manners. “I'm sorry. Let me take that” He reached to relieve her of the luggage, slipping the strap down her arm. Was it her imagination or did his fingers graze the side of her breast? If not, why had her nipples sprung to life beneath their lacy confinement?
“Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him tremulously. Some women might enjoy simpering like witless fools, but to her it was demeaning. She didn't want to be coddled, did she?
“Bishop has provided cold drinks, wine or beer for us. Would you like something?”
“No, thank you … Josh.”
Tearing her eyes from his, she glanced at the cluster of people waiting for the airplane to take off. She recognized representatives from television stations as well as executives from the business and banking worlds and journalists from major newspapers. Among them were several attractive women, including Laura Wray, travel editor for the Atlanta Constitution.
Megan didn't think Josh was escorting one of these women. He had been alone when she arrived. Still, she needed to put that one worry to rest. She wet her lips nervously and was taken slightly aback to see the sudden flare of interest in Josh's eyes. “Are you … I mean … is anyone … with you?”
Again his lips lifted into a grin. He glanced over his shoulder, and the travel editor raised her wineglass in a silent salute. Josh nodded in acknowledgment and turned back to Megan, his smile wider. “No,” he said.“That is, not until now.”
Letting jealousy have its way, Megan narrowed her gaze speculatively as she assessed the tall, willowy newspaper columnist. “Ms. Wray seems more than a little attentive where you're concerned.” Had she ever heard their names linked together? There had been so many, she couldn't remember if Laura Wray was among Josh's stable of women. “Are you sure she hasn't made plans for you once we get to Hilton Head?” she asked, cocking her head to one side, a gesture that she knew arched her throat attractively.
“She may very well have made plans, but she didn't consult me. And unless her plans are that you and I spend a great deal of time alone together, they don't coincide with mine.” He took a step closer, until she had to lift her chin a notch higher to look up at him. “I'm glad you came, Megan,” he said with soft urgency.
For a moment high emotion prevented her from speaking. “Are you?”
“Yes. More than you can imagine.”
“I'm glad I came, too.”
“Up until the last minute I was afraid you wouldn't. I wanted to call every day but was afraid I'd only pester you into not coming. It's been hell to stay away from you for two weeks, but I thought you needed that time to think about what this trip could mean to us.”
“I wouldn't have missed it.” The intensity with which he looked at her mouth made her motivations for going to Hilton Head nebulous and her thinking unclear. What should have been indelibly imprinted on her brain became blurred. Josh always had that effect on her.
“I think they're ready for us to board,” he said, breaking into her turbulent thoughts. “Come on. Let's get a good seat.”
He hoisted her bags onto his shoulder and, placing his hand in the middle of her back, propelled her toward the tarmac, where the corporate jet whirred in readiness.
Only a few of the other guests had preceded them to the steps going into the airplane. As Megan walked ahead of him, she felt Josh's hand slide from her back to her waist and then for an instant to the curve of her hip. She credited her momentary vertigo to rebellion over his familiar gesture.
Once inside the aircraft, she scanned the seats available. Laura Wray was already settled in one row of seats near the front. “Hello, Josh,” she said in a low drawl.