The Millionaire's Proposal. Trish Wylie

wielded a well-worn passport he waved back in front of her face as he got comfy again. ‘I need this back. So be warned—I’ll wrestle you for it if I have to.’

      ‘Duly noted.’ She reached for it, but Ronan moved it just out of her reach.

      ‘Let’s make a fair exchange.’

      ‘Oh-h-h,’ Kerry laughed throatily, ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘Picture that bad?’

      ‘Are you suggesting I don’t photograph well?’

      He examined her face for a moment, the same low intimacy returning to his voice. ‘I doubt it.’

      Kerry felt warmth building on her cheeks, which she’d always thought for a woman her age was just plain old sad. That very thought then bringing her in a straight line to her excuse.

      ‘Didn’t anyone tell you not to ask a lady her age?’

      He frowned in amused confusion, tapping his passport off the knuckles of his hand. ‘And when did I do that?’

      ‘My date of birth is in my passport.’

      ‘Ah…’

      ‘And anyway, you have an aisle seat—you could make a faster getaway. Someone told me recently that giving your passport to a stranger is a bad idea when travelling alone.’

      There was a low chuckle of very male laughter, the sound making her smile at him again. Should she have to hazard a guess, Kerry would say that the ‘flirting with women on planes’ thing was pretty successful for him. Maybe the short relationships suited his lifestyle?

      ‘Do I get a name?’

      She spoke slowly, ‘You already have a name, Ronan.’

      ‘Your name.’

      ‘We’ll see…’ She waggled her fingers again.

      His stunning eyes narrowed briefly, the passport still tapping against his large hand. ‘I’ll swap you a look at my passport for your name.’

      ‘Once I’ve confirmed you are who you say you are, I’ll reveal my secret identity—how does that sound?’

      ‘That—’ he smiled again, forcing another smile from her in response before he added ‘—is a deal.’

      When her fingers closed around the end of the proffered passport he held on, waiting for her lashes to lift before adding, ‘And I’m not the only one capable of a little flirting on a plane, am I?’

      Tugging it free, she informed him with a haughty lift of her nose, ‘You obviously bring out my dark side.’

      ‘Not sure I’d agree with that.’

      Kerry shook her head, dropping her chin to flip through the passport and discovering page after page of stamps from varying countries around the globe. ‘Have you really been to all these places?’

      ‘Nah, I make my own stamps—it’s a hobby of mine.’ He chuckled again when she glared at him. ‘It’s easier to write a travel guide for a country if you’ve been there, I find. I tried it from home but no one ever came to visit my kitchen after I wrote the guide for there—which is a shame really,’ cos I had some great package deals going.’

      Kerry continued reading all the country names, trying to imagine what it must have been like to have visited so many places and seen so many things. It had to have made for an exciting life; he’d make one heck of a dinner guest. And it was yet another thing she could find attractive about him, because even if their ‘relationship’ was only going to last for the duration of the flight, she had to admit he was pretty irresistible on many levels—full of charm, in possession of a fully working sense of humour, capable of giving as good as he got, sexy as sin…a walking fountain of knowledge when it came to travelling…

      Be silly not to take advantage of the latter, really.

      When she found the photograph page she laughed softly. ‘Oh, dear—now that’s bad.’

      Ronan leaned in to look over her shoulder, his upper arm pressed against her shoulder. ‘Just needs a row of numbers across the bottom, doesn’t it? And a couple of shots from either side to make up the set.’

      Kerry turned her face towards his, her gaze searching his eyes back and forth while she breathed in deep breaths of his scent. ‘Voice of experience?’

      His smile was slow and oozing with blatantly male sexuality, the brush of thick lashes against tanned skin deliberately slow, she was certain. And when he spoke it was with that deep, rumbling, intimate tone again, the air between them seeming to vibrate and—well—sizzle a little, frankly.

      ‘Not in that area, no,’ he stage-whispered, ‘but I did get detention after school on a pretty regular basis. Just don’t tell anyone in case it affects my ability to get into some countries, okay?’

      ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

      When she answered in an equally low stage whisper, her gaze tangled with his again, a shiver of something running up her spine, radiating outwards, leaving her skin tingling and a strange tightness in her chest.

      What was that? She’d never been so very aware of a man on such a cellular level before and it was—a little unsettling, actually.

      ‘Could I ask you to put your tray down, please, sir?’

      The voice of a stewardess broke the charged silence, forcing Ronan back into his allocated space before he lowered his tray, a smile aimed up at the pretty blonde as she served him his meal. He wasn’t the least bit tempted to flirt with her, he noticed, not the way he had with the woman beside him. It was something unusual for him— not that he hadn’t been known to make small talk with someone on a long-haul flight if they hadn’t handed out the usual ‘leave me alone’ signals of burying their nose in a paperback or plugging in headphones.

      But she was—intriguing, he supposed was the right word. What was someone like her doing travelling alone? No rings anywhere, he’d noted, so it would be a boyfriend rather than husband meeting her in New York if there was one. But something told him there wasn’t either one or she wouldn’t be flirting back with him the way she was. Women who blushed as prettily as she had weren’t players in that league, were they?

      Business trip, then—visiting friends maybe.

      Only one way to find out, so once they had their meals in front of them he turned his head to look at her again. ‘What takes you to the Big Apple?’

      She handed him his passport, which he tucked between his thighs without removing his gaze from her face. She should be well used to men looking at her, as pretty as she was with gleaming chestnut hair waving around her fine features and the full mouth with a constant upward curve suggesting she smiled more often than not.

      ‘It’s on my fantasy list.’

      It took considerable effort to keep a strangled edge out of his voice. ‘Your what?’

      Because his furtive imagination had just gone straight to Sinville with that one.

      ‘Kind of like fantasy football only with destinations instead of players.’ She nodded, tucking a strand of richly coloured hair behind her ear so he could see a small earring dangling against the skin of her neck as she leaned forward to examine what was on her tray—the simple sight intensely sensual. ‘I’ve spent so long burying myself in work that this trip is made up entirely of places off the top of the list.’

      Ronan watched as she flashed him a sideways glance and a small smile that warmed the hints of russet in her large brown eyes. ‘I’m going round the world.’

      And the husky sense of satisfaction in her voice was a pleasure to his ears. ‘Alone?’

      ‘Now, if you were