I move up the stairs carefully—my stilettos want to drop through the gridded holes in the steps so I have to go slowly. Once inside, my eyes sweep the space, noting the details. The luxury I had expected. Private jets are already the last word in insane wealth, so it makes sense that this one should reflect that. The seats are white leather, arranged like a lounge area, spacious and comfortable. There’s a wide corridor that leads to the back of the plane. I walk down it, my eyes continuing to note the details even as I scan for Theo. I pass a bedroom and my temperature lifts, then a boardroom, and a cinema with a couple of treadmills, then a bathroom that bears no resemblance to the utilitarian décor you see on commercial planes, even in the first-class cabin. This could be in a five-star hotel—lightweight construction with pale timber, but a large shower cubicle, all luxurious and elegant.
No Theo.
I spin around and move back down the corridor in time to see him emerging from the cockpit. He probably started the day wearing a suit but, in deference to the day’s heat, he’s shed the jacket and tie and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing tanned, toned forearms that make my mouth go dry. His hair is in its usual bun, his hips narrow, his chest muscled, his body so familiar to me that, despite the clothes he wears, I can visualise him naked and heat pools between my legs in immediate response.
‘Hey.’ His grin is my undoing. So sexy. So him. I admit to myself how glad I am he’s done this, how glad I am that our plans aren’t cancelled.
‘This is a surprise.’ Understatement.
‘I like Paris.’
I laugh. ‘But...’
‘No rain checks,’ he murmurs, pulling me towards him, and I inhale everything about him, imprinting it on my mind, my body responding instantly, filling with need and familiarity, with comfort and pleasure. Happiness that comes not just from the expectation of physical fulfilment but from everything else—the overall sense of rightness that fills me because he’s here and I’m here and suddenly this trip to Paris feels like so much more than a business necessity.
‘Still—’ my voice is breathy ‘—this is kind of overkill, right?’
‘Is there any such thing?’
Is there? It doesn’t feel like it. ‘I guess not.’
His kiss is quick, his smile infectious. ‘Sit down. We’re taking off.’
He moves back towards the cockpit.
‘Wait. You’re not...flying this thing?’
He grins. ‘Not today.’
I stare at him.
‘But thanks for the vote of confidence.’ His wink is teasing. I poke my tongue out and choose a seat at random. There are seat belts embedded in each lounge chair.
A few minutes later the engine purrs to life, the door is clicked shut and a hostess brings me a glass of champagne. I sip it and then Theo is back, striding out of the cockpit, taking the seat beside me with that same charming boyish grin on his handsome face. My pulse throbs.
‘You do fly, though?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Seriously?’
‘You’re surprised by that?’
‘You’re not a pilot, so...’
‘I started flying when I was just a kid. Fifteen. I was pretty obsessed, actually.’
‘Really?’
‘Mmm. I had a simulator installed when I was ten. It was good, but nothing beats the feeling of being in the cockpit as you take off, fly
ing through the clouds.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s very energising.’
His passion is captivating.
I can’t help myself. I reach out and put my hand on his knee, drawing imaginary circles. ‘You didn’t think about doing it for a living?’
‘Nah. I get the best of both worlds now. I fly whenever I want, but it’s not my whole life.’