His Final Seduction. Lori Wilde

      Happiness flowed over her. Mutely, she nodded. He’d remembered her name.

      “You’ve changed,” he said, giving her the once-over with an appreciative light dancing in his eyes. She wasn’t the only one who’d changed. He’d gone from lean and lanky to muscular and broad-shouldered. “No more braces.”

      Her body flushed hot at his appraisal. “I got them off when I was a sophomore.”

      “No more pigtails.” His hand went to her hair, his fingertips briefly skimming her neck.

      Goose bumps set up camp on her forearms, and her breathing grew so shallow she was practically panting. “Left those behind with the private school uniform,” she managed to say.

      “You don’t have library books clutched in your arms. Did you lose your love of reading?”

      “Nope. Nothing’s changed there, but I’ve upgraded to an e-book reader. Got it stashed in my purse for the plane ride.”

      “And you lost the glasses. LASIK or contact lenses?”

      “LASIK,” she said.

      “Me, too.”

      “It’s amazing you recognized me at all.”

      “Those eyes are the same.” He nodded as if speaking the wisdom of the ages. “So deep blue that they’re almost purple. Like a Colorado mountain stream. Not many people in the world have eyes like that. The minute I looked into them, I knew it was you.”

      He remembered her.

      She shouldn’t have found the idea so thrilling, but she did. Her junior high crush remembered her. Her heart did a crazy little rumba.

      Oh, just stop it. You’re being silly.

      “You know,” he said. “I’d love to stop and talk. Catch up on old times…”

      What old times? She hadn’t spoken ten words to him the entire year he’d lived in Burleson and hung out with her brother. She’d been far too shy.

      “Find out what Keith is up to these days, but…” He glanced at his watch. “I’m late for work. Maybe we could hook up later.” His comment had been mildly made, but it threw her off to think of meeting up with him again.

      “Maybe.” She breathed hopefully even as her brain churned cruel taunts. Get a grip. He’s not interested in you. He’s just being polite. Why would a guy like him be interested in you? He’s traveled the world over. Been in the military. Probably been with dozens—maybe even hundreds—of women. He’s seen and done things you could never dream of. You could never hold the attention of a guy like that. If you couldn’t hold on to someone as bland as Brian, you don’t have a prayer with Quint.

      He pulled a card from the pocket of his houndstooth sport jacket—he just had to be a snappy dresser, as well as good-looking—and passed it over to her. “Give me a call when you get back in town.”

      Yeah, right. She’d find the courage to do that about the same time hell froze over. Still, she palmed the card, clutched it tight.

      “See ya.” He picked up his carry-on, raised a hand in farewell and took off.

      Stunned, Jorgie felt as if she’d been clipped in a drive-by. What was that?

      “Omigod, who’s the hottie?” Avery asked as she sidled up to Jorgie. Simultaneously, they both cocked their heads to watch Quint walk away, the fabric of his slacks molding to his butt. They sighed in unison.

      “That,” Jorgie explained, “was Quint Mason.”

      “Quint Mason of Spin The Bottle fame? Get outta town.” Avery gave her a playful shove.

      Jorgie pointed to her luggage. “I’m working on it.”

      Avery giggled. “You know what I mean. This is incredible.”

      “How so?”

      “Seriously. It’s kismet, fate, serendipity. I mean we were just talking about him and poof…here he is. What are the odds?”

      “Well, actually,” Jorgie said, her mathematical accountant’s mind kicking in, “the probability isn’t as slim as you might think, given that Quint works in the airline industry and DFW is the biggest airport in the state. He probably passes through here every morning on his way to work.”

      “Yeah, but what are the odds that you’d be standing here when he sauntered by?”

      “I could do a statistical analysis if you wanted…”

      Avery plastered her palms over both ears. “No, no, please spare me. Numbers make my head explode.”

      “It’s really just like that phenomena where you decide to buy a certain kind of car—”

      “Spyder, I want a Spyder.”

      “You decide to buy a Spyder,” Jorgie played along, “and suddenly everywhere you look the place is crawling with Spyders.”

      “Pun intended?”

      “You know me. I can’t resist wordplay.”

      “You can’t resist anything brainiacish.”

      “Anyway…” Jorgie ignored that comment. “If we hadn’t been talking about Quint, then I probably would never have noticed him. He would have walked right on by. Just like if you weren’t dying to own a Spyder, you wouldn’t notice every single one of them that drove past.”

      “Except that he didn’t walk right on by, he ran smack-dab into you.”

      “You saw that?”

      “The whole airport saw it.”

      Jorgie winced. She hated being the center of attention and nothing embarrassed her more than public humiliation. Unlike Avery, who courted the spotlight with glee.

      “Don’t obsess about it,” Avery said, accurately reading her. “No one cares that your skirt was practically up around your waist.”

      Jorgie groaned.

      “Look at the bright side. At least you don’t wear thongs. Come on. Let’s get through security before the line gets any longer. Our plane starts boarding in fifteen minutes.”

      Avery was right. No point obsessing over something she couldn’t change. She needed to live in the moment. Get fired up about her trip. She was going to Venice. What more could a woman ask for?

      By the time they were through the checkpoint and found their gate at Eros Air, boarding was already in progress.

      “Hey,” Avery said, nudging Jorgie in the side. “Isn’t that your guy?”

      “What guy?”

      “Mr. Handsome over there by the gate attendant.”

      Jorgie focused on the jetway. Sure enough, it was Quint Mason getting on the plane. Her plane. To Venice. What was he doing on her plane? Quint had said he was late for work. Did he work for Eros? Was he a pilot, or a navigator, or a flight attendant? But he wasn’t in uniform.

      Jorgie frowned and looked at her ticket. “Are we at the right gate?”

      “E37. That’s you.”

      She focused back on Avery. “What do you mean, that’s me?”

      “This is your gate.”

      “My gate?” She raised an eyebrow.

      Avery shifted her weight. “My gate’s at E34.”

      “Your gate?” She sounded like a parrot.

      “I decided at the last minute I’d rather go on the Make Love Like A Movie Star tour. I’m going to Hollywood.”

      Avery’s statement shocked her so much Jorgie didn’t immediately