Layover (Open Skies #1) - Becca Jameson Page 0,1

a thing for men in uniform. I’m dying to roll around between the sheets with one of them.”

“And you think if you sleep with one of these guys, you’ll get it out of your system? Seems like a risky idea.”

Libby nodded. “That’s my plan.”

“What are you going to tell your mom when you end up falling for him?”

Libby cringed. “Not gonna happen. My parents would have a coronary if I dated a man like that cool drink of water. He has so many strikes against him, my mother would drop dead. He’s full-blooded American for one thing, and white.”

“Might I remind you that you’re full-blooded American too,” Christa pointed out. “It’s not a race.”

Libby laughed. “To my mother it is. ‘Guatemalans must stick together,’” she began in her mother’s authoritative tone. ‘It’s time for you to find a nice man from our country and settle down. I’m not getting any younger. I need grandbabies.’”

Christa winced. “Yeah, your mom does kinda sound like that.”

“And the crazy thing is that she was born in the US too. I guess the fact that she lived in a less diverse community growing up caused her to absorb more of the traditional Guatemalan ways of thinking. I thought maybe she would lighten up after her parents passed away, but noooo. If anything, she lays it on even thicker.”

“Shit. He’s coming this way,” Christa whispered.

Libby sat up straighter, smoothing her hands down her dress, over her thighs. She hoped her makeup looked okay. She hadn’t reapplied lipstick since they’d finished dinner.

Suddenly, she felt a bit silly and presumptuous. It wasn’t like her to pick out a man from across a room and set her sights on him. She honestly hadn’t dated any white guys. Nor had she dated anyone as formidable as this man.

His gaze was definitely set on her as he approached, his swagger slightly cocky, his lips tipped up almost in a smirk. Maybe he was no different than the macho guys she was used to, but somehow he had a different vibe. Her body had come alive more and more throughout the evening. By now, she was buzzing with arousal. Most of the men she’d dated made her cringe and shrink away from them within minutes. Not this one. By the time he reached their table, Libby was no longer breathing. She had to tip her head way back to meet his gaze.

He turned toward Christa. “I haven’t had a chance to meet you two yet.” He held out a hand. “Jason Nixon.”

At least Libby had his name right in her head.

Christa shook his hand in her small pale one, barely managing to murmur, “Christa Boyce.” She took a step back, pointing over her shoulder. “I’m just gonna go get a drink.” She fled so fast it was a wonder a breeze didn’t hit Libby in the face.

Jason turned his attention toward Libby once again and took her hand next. “And you are?”

“Libby. Libby Garcia,” she stammered, loving the feel of his firm handshake. His hand was darn near twice the size of hers. Granted, everything about her was petite. She was four eleven and proportionately dainty. Most of the time that fact drove her crazy, and she worked hard to make up for her size with personality. With Jason, she suddenly didn’t mind. He seemed huge and powerful, and she liked it.

“Libby. Is that short for Elizabeth?”

She shook her head and cleared her throat. “No. Libertad.”

“Ah, Hispanic. Libertad. Liberty. I love that.” His accent was nearly perfect.

Her eyes widened. For one thing, no one ever loved her weird name. And for another thing, Jason Nixon apparently spoke at least enough Spanish to correctly pronounce and translate Liberty. Interesting. “Thank you,” she managed to murmur as he released her fingers.

“Nice to meet you, Libby. Save a dance for me tomorrow night?”

She nearly choked as she stared at his raised eyebrow. She was not going to chicken out. She was so totally going to lay it on thick with this hunk. “Absolutely. Looking forward to it.”

Chapter 1

Twenty-four hours later…

Libby slid her palms up and down Jason’s back as soon as he’d tugged off his uniform jacket and draped it over the back of the one chair in his hotel room. He was as hard as she’d imagined. Every inch of him rock solid. Muscular. Fit. Her mouth watered. A frantic yearning to have more of him consumed her.

He hadn’t even kissed her yet, but she could tell by the hungry look in his eyes