His Final Seduction. Lori Wilde

let go just as his fingers touched hers. He caught a whiff of her delicate perfume. And he was jonesing for something sweet.

      “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft as a caress.

      He was aware of a humming noise inside his brain, fraught with sexual energy. He stared at her lips, full and pink and shiny with gloss. His heart skipped another beat. What was the deal here? Was he developing a heart condition?

      Frowning, Quint ripped his gaze from her distracting lips and fell into the pool of her deep blue eyes. He just stood there staring, her suitcase raised over his head, the bag braced against the cargo bin and his forearms.

      Snap out of it, Mason. A woman hadn’t left him this thunderstruck since high school.

      “Is there a problem?” She lifted a hand to push back a tendril of hair from her face, the pink bracelets at her wrist jangling as they brushed against each other.

      “Um…” Do something, don’t just stand there. The aisle was clogging up behind her. Immediate, he shoved her suitcase into the overhead bin and clicked it closed.

      “Thank you,” she said, then sat down and snapped on her seat belt. She picked up the in-flight magazine and started flipping through it.

      Not knowing what else do, he mumbled, “You’re welcome,” and went back to his seat.

      Still feeling a bit off balance by the intensity of his attraction, Quint settled into his seat and mentally pried his mind off Jorgie and put it where it belonged.

      On his job.

      He was an air marshal on private security detail for the Lockhart Agency. For the last ten weeks, he and his fellow air marshals had been on assignment for Eros Airlines and Fantasy Adventure Vacations. The company’s catchphrase was Something Sexy In The Air, and they specialized in catering to a high-end clientele that didn’t mind spending money indulging their passionate sides.

      But over the course of the past several months, the airline’s owner, Taylor Milton, had gotten anonymous threatening letters at the same time someone had been sabotaging her four international resorts. She’d been reluctant to take her problems to the police and risk adverse publicity. To keep things discreet, she’d hired the Lockhart Agency to protect her interests.

      The air marshals were undercover, both on the planes and at the resorts. Quint’s cover identity was an instructor at the Venetian resort, teaching a daily course in How To Make Love Like Casanova. This was his third stint at the assignment. Quint had to admit he’d had a helluva good time, instructing men on how to be great lovers and flirting with the ladies to show off his skills. The only major drawback to the setup was the morality clause he’d been obligated to sign. No sex with the guests. For a sensualist like Quint, that was something of a challenge.

      The sabotages had been fairly minor, mere inconveniences than anything else, until a month ago when someone had planted a small bomb at the Tokyo resort. The bomb had been found, the resort vacated and the explosive neutralized with no harm done, but clearly, the situation had escalated. Taylor Milton had beefed up security at the resorts and ever since then, there’d been no new occurrences and the threatening letters had stopped. It was eerie, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

      Quint noticed no one took the seat beside Jorgie, but otherwise, the plane was full. Once they were airborne, he sent a text to his coworker Jake Stewart, who was at this very moment boarding a plane to Los Angeles for Eros’s Make Love Like A Movie Star tour.

      Any lookers? he typed into his BlackBerry.

      Is that all you think about? Jake returned his text.

      Quint laughed. Pretty much.

      Casanova fits you to a T.

      Get back on the horse, man. Jake had been divorced for over a year and as far as Quint knew he hadn’t dated. He’d been bugging him to let loose and just have a fling, but Jake was one of those Dudley Do-Right types who never broke the rules.

      Two words, Jake texted back. Morality Clause.

      So, any lookers?

      Yeah.

      That took him by surprise. Quint smiled. Yeah?

      Not my type.

      All the better.

      Door’s closing. Later.

      Chuckling, Quint put his BlackBerry away. The flight attendant was distributing drinks and he heard Jorgie order a Bloody Mary. After she’d been served her drink, he took the bottle of water the attendant gave him and slipped into the seat beside her. “Rough night?”

      She looked startled to see him.

      He nodded at her drink. “A Bloody Mary is a common hangover cure.”

      “No.” She shook her head. “In fact, I rarely drink…”

      “Fear of flying?”

      “Not at all.”

      “The mystery deepens. You don’t seem the type to drink alcohol at nine in the morning.”

      “Precisely.”

      “I’m not following you.”

      “I’m doing things I wouldn’t normally do.”

      “Ah.” He nodded. “Bad breakup.”

      “How do you know that?”

      “You’re traveling alone and drinking Bloody Marys and headed to an Eros resort. Common cure for a bad breakup.”

      “So you’re saying I’m a cliché?”

      He shrugged, grinned.

      “I wasn’t meant to be traveling alone. Actually my friend Avery was supposed to come with me, but at the last minute she changed her ticket, hopped on a plane to another Eros resort, leaving me holding the bag. I think I’m due for a Bloody Mary, don’t you?”

      “Drink up. I’ll order you another.”

      She looked at the water bottle in his hand. “You’re not drinking?”

      “Not in the mood.” He kept grinning. “But you go right ahead.”

      “That grin gets you laid a lot, doesn’t it?”

      Whoa, he hadn’t expected that from the girl next door. His admiration shot up a notch. “I do all right.”

      “You haven’t changed a bit since high school.”

      “It doesn’t sound like a compliment the way you say it.”

      “What’s not complimentary about being a twenty-nine-old man with a high school mentality?”

      “Ouch, kitten. Withdraw the claws. I’m not the guy who done you wrong.”

      “No, but you’re the one who decided to sit here. Better be prepared to take a little mortar fire or head back to where you came from.”

      This was getting really interesting. Quint leaned back in his seat, buckled up his seat belt. He could do his job just as easily sitting here as in the last row. “It’s a long flight and I’m all ears.”

      “You ever been engaged, Quint?” A disgruntled expression crossed her face and he found himself wishing he could hunt down the ex-boyfriend who’d dumped her and punch him out.

      “Nope.”

      “Ever come close?”

      “Nope.”

      “Ever want to get married?”

      “Never crossed my mind.”

      She took a sip of her Bloody Mary, pointed a finger at him. “Smart man.”

      “So,” he said, quickly changing the subject. “How’s Keith? I saw him at our ten-year high school reunion and we had a few drinks. Shot the breeze, but we haven’t