LITMIR.BIZ

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Even first class wasn’t designed for men of his size. She wondered vaguely if he was a professional athlete. Colin Cannon had descended from a pretty spectacular gene pool, and despite the immaculate suit, his body wasn’t that of a man who sat behind a desk for most of his day.

      Their eyes met and a shiver of feminine appreciation traveled up her spine. She was as aware of him as if they were sitting next to each other, knees touching. It was strange, feeling as though everyone else on the plane were extras in a private little drama between the two of them. How could she feel such a powerful connection to a person with whom she’d exchanged only a few words?

      She couldn’t, she decided, dragging her gaze from his. It was an illusion brought on by the thin air, fatigue and nerves over the unfinished wedding details that still needed to be handled. She tried to put the man out of her mind as the final and longest leg of their flight got under way, tending to the passengers in her section, including the high-maintenance, sniping couple.

      By the time her shift had ended somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, the Osbournes had, mercifully, fallen asleep along with most of the other passengers. The cabin was dark except for the lone reading light illuminating the man in 4A. He appeared to be immersed in some sort of thick, bound report, his head bent in thought, his hands moving occasionally to mark a page.

      She wanted to ask him what business he was in or if he needed a blanket, anything to hear the pleasing inflection of his accent. Her body tingled, strained toward him, even with multiple rows of seats dividing them. It was an alien feeling. She never flirted with passengers or took advantage of the many opportunities to hook up with single and married men during her travels. She had always been faithful to Kevin, had never even considered getting herself into a situation that could get out of hand.

      Until now. There was something so compelling about this man. Zoe half wished she hadn’t traded sections with Erica. Perhaps during the flight she would’ve learned something about him that would’ve rendered him less appealing. He could be married…with a house full of kids…involved in shady business dealings…a male chauvinist…with objectionable views on the human condition.

      As if he sensed her attention, he turned his head and smiled, then gestured her over.

      Zoe had no choice but to comply. Her heart rate increased with every step. She stopped next to his seat and leaned close so their conversation wouldn’t wake the other passengers. “Yes, Mr. Cannon?”

      “I’m sorry to bother you, Zoe, but I left something in the pocket of my suit jacket and I didn’t see where you hung it.”

      He smelled of some lingering, unidentifiable spice that warmed her lungs. “I’ll get it for you,” she murmured.

      “Thank you.” His mouth curved into a smile that extended to his remarkable, sexy eyes that simmered with just enough merriment to dispel any idea she might have had that he was dangerous.

      The coat closet took her out of his range of sight, which gave her a few minutes to compose herself. She was behaving like a schoolgirl, allowing a man’s physical presence to affect her. This wasn’t like her. She put her hand to her forehead and acknowledged the elevated heat. Maybe she was coming down with something. She exhaled slowly. Yes, with a little rest and a couple of aspirin, she’d be back to herself again.

      Zoe found Mr. Cannon’s jacket and pulled it out of the closet. When she folded it over her arm, though, something fell out of the inside breast pocket and landed by her foot. A black jeweler’s box—ring size. She scooped it up and looked all around to make sure she was alone. Stroking the velvety surface, she fought the urge to peek inside. An engagement ring, perhaps? It seemed likely, since Mr. Cannon wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

      It was the crazy, unreasonable pang of jealousy toward the unknown woman that brought her back to earth. This was insane—she should be thinking about the engagement ring on her own finger rather than worrying about the possible romantic liaisons of a perfect stranger.

      Disgusted with herself, she dropped the box back into the coat pocket and carried it to him. He nodded his thanks and reached into a different pocket to remove a PDA device. “I hate this thing,” he said ruefully, “but I can’t live without it.”

      Apparently his mind hadn’t been on whatever was in the box—just like hers shouldn’t be.

      “Mr. Cannon, the crew is getting ready to change, so if there’s nothing else, I’ll say goodbye.”

      Interest lit his eyes. “You’re going off duty?”

      Dismayed by the way her body responded to his slightest signal, she moistened her lips. “Yes. Enjoy the remainder of the flight.”

      She straightened and moved down the aisle to confer with the attendant who would be taking over her section. Erica walked up, wearing a frown. “Gee, that hunky Aussie is a dreamboat, Zoe, but he’s kind of boring. Although he did seem to watch you pretty closely….”

      “I didn’t notice,” Zoe said lightly.

      Erica looked intrigued. “If you say so. How was the married couple?”

      “Still married, miraculously.” Zoe retrieved her shoulder bag from storage. It was silly, but she was the tiniest bit glad to know that Colin Cannon hadn’t hit on the vivacious, blond Erica—he wasn’t a player after all.

      Not that it mattered to her.

      A few minutes later, she sank into the assigned coach seat she would occupy for the six hours remaining in the flight.

      She should’ve gone to sleep immediately. Her body was tired and her lower back ached. But her mind refused to shut down, not ready to turn away from the Aussie in first class whose green eyes had scoured her body with unabashed sexual interest. It was flattering…made her feel vibrant and desirable. Because as much as she was sure of Kevin’s love for her, he wasn’t exactly the passionate type. Sex ranked somewhere below fantasy football and training for his next long-distance bike race. They hadn’t slept together in weeks because of their schedules and all the wedding preparations. She’d convinced herself it was okay—it would make the honeymoon even sweeter.

      But she was lonely…and Kevin’s inattentiveness had left her feeling as if she’d sprung a leak.

      Before her mind spun off in a dangerous direction, she pulled out the three-ring binder that contained all the details of “Zoe and Kevin’s Wedding.” Inside were pages and pages of samples and order forms and receipts and schedules. Still to be decided was the seating arrangement at the rehearsal dinner and the reception, the music mix for the band, the decorations for the head tables, gifts for the wedding party and the marriage license.

      As well as roughly one thousand other details.

      From her bag she pulled her mail that she’d bound with a rubber band. Lately her box was crammed with brochures from photographers, caterers, florists and travel agencies. But scattered among the advertisements were contracts that needed to be reviewed and signed, and invoices that needed to be paid. She flipped through the envelopes and fished out a bill from the bridal shop, a reservation form for the limo service and a contract from the videographer. There were cards from friends and relatives who couldn’t make it to the wedding—she and Kevin would open those later.

      She glanced at the next envelope, which had a return address of Jacksonville, Florida—something from Covington Women’s College? Then she smiled. It was probably a copy of the alumni newsletter, featuring a notice of her upcoming wedding. Grateful for a little light reading, she opened the envelope. But instead of a newsletter, she pulled out a cover letter enclosing a purple envelope that seemed distantly familiar. Intrigued, she scanned the letterhead—Dr. Michelle Alexander.

      Zoe frowned. Her former college instructor?

      Dear Ms. Smythe,

      You were a student in my senior-level class titled “Sexual Psyche” at Covington Women’s College. You may or may not recall that one of the optional assignments in the class was for each student to record her sexual fantasies and seal them in an envelope, to be mailed

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