But Not For Me. Annette Broadrick

looking amused. “You were clutching the arms of your seat so hard when we took off that you actually left permanent dents where your fingernails dug into the leather.”

      She quickly checked the arms to make sure she hadn’t done that very thing when his laughter made her realize she’d given herself away.

      “I don’t fly very often,” she admitted, still trying to hang on to her dignity, which appeared to be slipping rapidly away.

      “Oh, I’m well aware of that. I’m also aware how close you were to mutiny when we boarded.”

      “That’s because there is no good reason for me to be on this trip,” she replied, feeling defensive.

      “I can think of several off the top of my head but this isn’t the time to go into them.”

      She stared wildly around the cabin and tightly gripped the arms of her seat. “Why?” she demanded.

      He gave her that lopsided grin of his—the one that usually melted her heart no matter how aggravated she might be with him—and said, “Captain says we’ll be landing in another thirty minutes or so. Thought you’d want to know.”

      She nodded and stood. “Thank you,” she said, gathering her dignity like a cloak around her. “I’ll go and freshen up.” She went back to the rest room and waited until the door closed firmly behind her before she faced herself in the mirror.

      Her reflection wasn’t a reassuring sight. Somehow she’d managed to turn a rather bilious color of green. No doubt the altitude contributed to the sickly pallor.

      She quickly used the facilities, washed her hands and face, and tried to rub some color—other than green—into her face before she had to return to the cabin.

      There were times when Brad caught her off guard with his acute observations of her. Now that she was going to be in his company for most of the next few days, she needed to watch her every word and expression. He didn’t need to see beneath her professional facade any more than he already had.

      After patting her face dry, combing her hair and reapplying her lipstick, Rachel returned to her seat. Brad was already seated next to her. As soon as she buckled herself in, he took her right hand firmly in his large left one and said, “Hang on, Rachel, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

      She had no idea whether he was referring to her mysterious stalker or to the interminable flight but it really didn’t matter.

      He was too late. Something had happened to her over which Brad Phillips had no control. He held her vulnerable heart in his grasp, if he but knew.