One Night With a Billionaire - By VickiLewis Thompson Page 0,32
warmth that mirrored his shone from those gray depths. Then, as if she was censoring the emotion, her gaze gentled to friendliness.
“Good dreams?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“About me?”
“Egotist! I’m not telling.” She grinned at him.
He had his answer. She’d been dreaming about him, and the glow of happiness in her eyes when she’d first opened them gave him hope. “Ready to eat?”
“You know it.”
He’d looked forward to offering her the gourmet food onboard his plane, and she was gratifyingly appreciative of the cheese soufflé, glazed fruit, and steamed veggies. The chocolate lava cake, though, sent her over the moon.
She leaned close. “It’s almost better than sex,” she murmured with a furtive glance at Suzanne, the cabin attendant.
“Almost.” He winked at her. “But not quite.”
“No, not quite.” Her smile flashed, but she looked away quickly, as if not wanting to meet his gaze.
Hm. He hadn’t considered this trip from her point of view, but now he realized it could seem like slow torture, a long, excruciating good-bye. That wasn’t fair, when he had a totally different scenario in mind. He put down his spoon. “It’s not over, Melanie.”
“You mean lunch? There’s more?” But then she met his gaze, and saw how serious he was. All merriment left her expression. “Yes, it is. We both know that, so you don’t have to pretend. I was happy to accept your offer of a ride home, but when we get there, we’ll each move back into our respective worlds. It’s okay. I completely understand.”
“No, you don’t. I—”
“I’m grateful for all we’ve shared. You’re a wonderful host. You showed me Paris as no one else could have, and I’ll never forget it.”
“You’re talking as if we’ll never see each other again!”
“I doubt that we will.” Her expression seemed absolutely blank. Was she protecting her feelings? Or was she actually as okay with that idea as she sounded?
He’d expected an argument, but not this solid wall of resistance. And his timing sucked. He’d started this discussion while they both sat, seat belts fastened, so they could eat a messy chocolate lava cake. Worse yet, Suzanne hovered within earshot.
He called over to the flight attendant. “Suzanne, would you please take our trays? Keep the deserts warm. We’ll finish them later. And please give us some privacy.”
Melanie glanced at him in alarm. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything.” Once the trays were gone he unbuckled his seat belt and got up. Then he crouched down in front of Melanie’s chair. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to talk to you, but I didn’t stop to think that you’d spend the whole blessed flight anticipating the end of our relationship.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not, either. I had a nice nap, and a wonderful meal. I promise you I’m not brooding about what happens after we land.”
“No, you wouldn’t do that.” He took both her hands in his. “You’re not a brooder. It’s one of the many things that I love about you.”
Her eyes grew wide and she began to tremble. “Drew . . .”
He forged on. Might as well lay all his cards on the table. “I love other things, too, like the way you really look at the world around you with wonder in your eyes, and your fierce independence, and your spirit of adventure, and your lack of concern about luxury, and the way you react to me in bed.”
She stared at him as her whole body quivered.
He gripped her hands more tightly. “I love you, Melanie Shaw. I never thought I’d fall in love with a cowgirl, but it looks like I have. I began to love you that first morning, and that love has grown stronger every hour of every day we’ve spent together. But I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I said that too soon, so I’ve been hoping to find a moment when this speech would make sense to you.” He searched her expression for some sign, some flicker of understanding. “I’m powerfully afraid this isn’t that moment.”
She blinked. “You love me?”
“Yes. I know it’s fast, darlin’, but I’m a fast mover. I don’t expect you to love me back, at least not yet. All I ask is a chance. Just . . .” His throat closed with fear as he realized how much was at stake. “Just give me a chance.”
She continued to gaze at him without speaking.
He waited, massaging her cold hands, letting her see the caring in his expression, and praying that she would accept that he was not a raving lunatic, just