there . . .
She shifted her weight, lifted her remaining limb up . . .
The plane decided that was the perfect moment to hit a pocket of unstable air. Shannon tried to correct her weight, grabbed for the back of the seat in front of her. A second shift in the airplane and someone’s glass rolled on the floor. Shannon lost it.
“What the . . .”
Her ass landed in Mr. Phone’s lap.
His hands on her hips.
Humiliation boiled in her veins.
Victor was dreaming.
Or at least he was before his eyes popped open to the stunning woman next to him who now sat in his lap.
Or more to the point, was scrambling off his lap.
“What in the . . . ?”
“I’m so sorry.”
Victor reached for the button to lower his leg rest and somehow caught his seatmate a second time . . . or maybe the way the plane tilted had her losing her balance again.
He couldn’t stop his hands from moving to help her off of him any more than he could stop his pulse from jumping in his chest.
She grabbed ahold of the seats in front of her.
Someone close by started laughing.
The woman scrambled and fell into her seat. When she turned his way, the crimson color on her cheeks gave away her embarrassment.
“That was awkward,” he said, trying to make light of what happened.
She lifted her chin a little higher and tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind her ear.
“You could have waited to stretch out until after I returned. It isn’t like I could have gone far.”
“So it’s my fault.”
“Well, you certainly didn’t consider how I might get back into my seat.”
How rich was that? She fell in his lap and blamed him. Story of my life. “My apologies, Miss . . .”
“Annoyed.” She turned to look out the window.
Victor bit back a laugh. Chuckling at her might not be the best way to spend the duration of the flight. “I’m sorry, Miss Annoyed. I didn’t realize that you’d gotten up.”
She huffed out a breath and waved at the flight attendant. “I’ll have that glass of wine now, please.”
The attendant snickered. “I’ll keep your glass full.”
Victor glanced around at the other passengers, many of which were trying not to watch him and his annoyed companion.
He stopped the attendant from running off. “Excuse me.”
The attendant turned, her lips pinched.
Okay . . . apparently he was doing a good job of frustrating more than one female today. “Gin and tonic?” he asked.
She hesitated.
“Please,” Miss Annoyed said for him.
“Sorry. Please.”
The flight attendant flashed a smile. “Of course.”
He checked his watch. “I slept for an hour?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen asleep on an airplane.
“Excuse me?” Miss Annoyed was still unhappy with him.
He pointed to his watch. “Did I really sleep for an hour?”
She turned to give him the full face of her disapproval. “You did.”
Miss Annoyed was model beautiful. High cheekbones, full lips . . . the depth of her eyes seemed to take everything in around her. She was what Victor would label conceited, privileged, and out of his league.
The flight attendant arrived with their drinks, and he took the opportunity to glance at her left hand.
No wedding ring.
He wasn’t surprised. She didn’t seem to have a warm bone to spare.
Not that he was interested.
He thanked the woman handing him his drink and attempted to calm his fidgeting fingers. Flying wasn’t one of his strong suits. Years of hearing his father talk about the airplane parts he’d machined in his career, and insinuate his lack of trust in a chunk of steel defying gravity, made it hard to relax. It didn’t matter that Victor flew all over the world, several times a year. It still bothered him and made him more chatty than he cared to admit.
Only his seatmate didn’t seem all that interested in conversation.
Not that her scowl kept him from trying. “What takes you to Cancun?”
She regarded him out of the corner of her eye. For a minute, he didn’t think she’d answer. She opened her mouth to respond, and hesitated.
“You don’t look like you’re on vacation.” She wore slacks and a button up shirt. Something he would expect his assistant to show up to work in.
She looked down at herself, then back at him.
“Neither do you,” she told him.
Victor loosened the tie her comment reminded him he was wearing. Truth was, he’d dressed that morning on autopilot. If it wasn’t for the packed bag at the door leading into his garage, he might