First Class Sin. Cara Lockwood
then with two bubbling plastic cups, tiny slices of lime floating in each one. “Here you go, sir,” she said, handing one to Law and the other to Juliana. Law reached into his pocket for his wallet, but Sari held up a hand in protest.
“No, no. On the house, sir.” She bustled away, leaving Juliana with another perplexed look on her face.
“Apparently, I should make a note always to travel with you,” she joked.
“You’re welcome anytime.” Law realized he meant this. It wasn’t just formality as he held up his plastic glass in a toast. “To not dying.”
“Yet,” Juliana breathed as she touched her cup to his and took a big sip. “We still have...how much time to go?”
“I think one patch of bad luck is probably all we’re allotted this trip,” he said, swallowing the crisp, but potent, vodka down.
“I hope you’re right.” Juliana sounded rueful. She took another long drink, her hand still shaking slightly. He wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure how. Crack a joke? “I was supposed to do work on this flight.” She nodded toward the laptop stowed under the seat in front of her. “But...”
“Work can wait,” Law said, voice firm. “We almost died. So, work can wait.” He clinked his plastic cup against hers. Before he knew it, they’d both downed their drinks, though it still hadn’t taken an edge off his nerves. Even when the pilot turned off the fasten seat belt sign, he still felt a tad uneasy.
“My life just flashed before my eyes and, I’ll be honest with you, I didn’t like what I saw,” Law admitted.
“Why?”
“All work. No play. Hardly anything real about my life. Find the person I’m supposed to spend my life with,” he said, taking another deep dreg of vodka. That’s why I need to sell Blue Sky. Get on with my life, my real life. Make something real. Preferably with a woman who hates corporate spreadsheets. “Somehow, feels like a wasted life.”
“You think love is the answer?” Her light brown eyes showed skepticism.
“What’s the point of life, if not love? To make real connections with people.” The cabin around them darkened as the pilot dimmed the lights for those wanting to sleep the evening flight away. Juliana glanced around and so did Law. He saw all the people staring at the screens of their small devices, now seemingly back to normal after the plane nearly fell from the sky. It amazed him that something so profound could happen, and then normality snapped back; people acted as if nothing important had happened.
“You know... I...” Juliana shook her head. “I think I need to go to the bathroom. Do you mind?” She nodded toward the aisle. Law stood so she could shuffle by. As she did, he got a whiff of her perfume, something crisp and sweet. Grapefruit, maybe? Whatever it was, he liked it. As she brushed by him, her hip slid by his groin, making all his senses come to life. Down, boy, he told himself. Down. This is business, remember? Not play.
He watched as she slipped into the empty bathroom behind his seat, noticing how her hand shook as she turned the latch. He knew then something was wrong.
Juliana was not okay as she shut the bathroom door behind her and slid the lock into place. Her whole body felt like jelly, like it might melt into a puddle, and she was too addled to even notice this bathroom was extra-roomy, a detail she would have normally jotted down in her head for the future report. She’d never experienced turbulence that bad before and she’d been convinced she was going to die. The stress of it, added to everything else that happened this week, hit her like a falling concrete slab. She’d worked so hard to pretend everything was okay, that she could handle anything life and work threw at her, that she didn’t realize her body was trying to tell her she couldn’t, actually, do it all.
The panic that settled in her throat burst forth now as tears streamed down her face. She couldn’t control the sobs anymore as they racked her small frame. I almost died. This tin bird almost became my coffin. The thought choked her and she was powerless. Juliana felt like she couldn’t breathe. She clawed at the neckline of her tunic, trying to get some air to her collarbone. She prided herself on being in control of her emotions, cool and calm, and now they flooded her like a tidal wave. What would some of her coworkers say about her now? The ice queen has lost it. She cried now and felt like she might keep on crying.
I nearly died. She couldn’t get the horrible thought out of her mind. I nearly died, and the last man to touch me was Garrison. That thought made her sick, suddenly. Because Garrison had touched her without her permission. Without her invitation. It had been entirely on his terms. Everything was always on his terms. Her projects. Her promotions. And now her body? The unfairness of it ripped through her like a blade. The thought made her want to hyperventilate. Suddenly, she felt like she couldn’t get enough air.
Why was she panicking? The plane didn’t fall out of the sky. She’s fine. You’re fine, she silently told herself, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she swiped at the tears glistening on her cheeks. Garrison is a thousand miles away. Besides, he didn’t rape you. He just grabbed you and tried to kiss you. What’s the big deal?
Yet it had shaken her to her core. She didn’t know why.
Maybe it was she felt so out of control; everything seemed to be spiraling away from her. It was probably just lack of sleep, stress of the Blue Sky project. Maybe Garrison didn’t even have anything to do with it. She’d dealt with men like Garrison before. She could do it again.
Then she heard a soft knock on the door.
“Juliana? It’s me. Law. Are you okay?”
“Y-yes,” she sniffed, grabbing a wad of tissues from the bathroom dispenser and crushing them to her face.
“Can I come in?” he offered.
She felt white-hot panic. He’d see her like this—a mess. Her mascara was running down her face; her cheeks were blotchy and red. All she needed now was for the sexy Aussie to see her at her worst.
“Look, you don’t know me. But I know you’re upset. Let me help.”
His voice sounded strangely soothing, even through the door. She bit her lower lip, considering. When would she ever see the man again? Who cared if he saw her crying? The comfort he offered beckoned like the warm beacon of a lighthouse. She carefully slid the lock open. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He opened his arms and she leaned into them, feeling his warm embrace, instantly feeling stronger, better, more whole. This human connection, as much as she wanted to deny it, meant something. She’d spent the past many months without anything more than polite social banter, or work-focused conversation, but nothing deep. Nothing meaningful.
He squeezed her tight, and she felt all the muscles in his chest, his strong arms around her offering the promise of comfort and security. She felt so small in his arms, so protected. Instantly, her tears dried as she hugged him back, thankful for the human contact. This was on her terms. She wanted this: Law’s arms around her. Suddenly, she very much wanted something for herself. Something on her terms. She realized, with a shock, she wanted Law.
Right here. Right now.
Her terms.
Her body screamed for something tangible, for a connection that went beyond just a hug.
She tilted her head up then. He glanced down at her and swiped a tear from her cheek. The gesture was so gentle, so inviting, that she wanted to show him how much she appreciated it. And she wanted...more. Juliana glanced at his lips, full, sensual, and suddenly felt consumed with the idea that she wanted to feel them. Taste them. Know them. She was doing this because she wanted to.
She stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.
THE