From the smooth way he got Kat’s bag taken care of and the knowing wink he gave the flight attendant when he ordered a Jack and Coke, Kat could tell the man sitting next to her was a smoldering hunk of Southern charisma and he damn well knew it.

“So, Miss Fahey, what is it you do for a living?” Cal was looking at her, his eyelids heavy over piercing blue eyes, and she was quite certain he saw down to her very soul. His deep voice reminded her of a really good bourbon—a little raspy, but ultimately smooth and languid. She’d also figured out that Cal Harper was three sheets to the wind.

“Guess.”

“Ooh, Miss Kat wants to play a game.”

Kat looked over the rim of her cup at him and tried to appear innocent, but inside, she was having some very impure thoughts. The way he sucked on those ice cubes? Holy smokes! She hadn’t flirted with a stranger in years, and to do so with someone who looked and sounded like this man? She wished she had the gumption to video this exchange, because Bridget was never, ever going to believe that this happened. It was like something out of a movie.

“Oh, it takes two to play a game, Cal,” Kat countered, playfully resting her hand on his forearm. Oh my God, Kat, you are touching him! Quit that! It was one thing to flirt; it was quite another to engage in physical contact, no matter how inadvertent.

She didn’t know if it was the touch or the “game” comment, but Cal’s countenance changed. He straightened up in his seat, moving away from Kat, and nodded. “You’re right. It does take two to play a game.”

“I’m a business analyst,” Kat hurriedly answered. “I calculate risk for different ventures.”

Cal chuckled. “Is this where I admit that I failed algebra twice and they put me out of my misery with a seventy percent after a heinous summer-school session?” He relaxed after that, moving the slightest bit into her space again, but not at close as he had been. “Brains and beauty—a fuckin’ exciting combination.”

“And what do you do, Cal Harper?”

“Guess.” Cal arched an eyebrow at her. “What’s good for the goose . . .”

Kat tapped her finger on her lip in false contemplation. “You’re in sales or something outward facing where you can unleash all that sex appeal on the unknowing public.” Kat’s eyes popped when the words came out of her mouth, but then she just sipped on her wine because she was pretty sure she was right.

Cal chuckled. “Well, I don’t know about the sex appeal part, but you’re pretty close otherwise. I’m a professional bartender. Or, if you want to be snooty, a mixologist, but I don’t like that term. It’s too . . . clinical, you know?”

“Of course you are. It makes complete sense.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not at all. Some of my best friends are bartenders,” she said, thinking about Bridget, whom she met while making rounds in dive bars, trying to convince their owners to buy overpriced small batch whiskey that wasn’t really that small batch. No, she was a terrible salesperson; she belonged back behind the computer screen.

After they talked for a while longer, filling each other in with basic information about themselves, Kat began thinking about the presentation that was happening in a few short hours, and it made her anxiety ramp up. “And on that note, I need to try to get some shut-eye. But it was nice talking to you, Cal.”

He inclined his head. “It was nice talking to you, too. Sweet dreams, Miss Fahey.”

“You too, Mr. Harper.”

“Oh, don’t call me Mr. Harper. That’s my ol’ man, and I haven’t pissed you off enough to warrant that sort of bone-deep ugliness.”

“Okay, good night, Cal.”

“That’s better. Night, darlin’.”

Kat put her noise-reducing headphones on and pretended to sleep, but really, she was thinking about the fellow sitting in the seat next to her who had gotten yet another Jack and Coke and who seemed to be the most melancholy man in the universe.

´*•.¸(*•.¸ *¸.•*´)¸.•*´

Cal sipped on a cup of terrible black coffee and watched Red as she slowly roused herself. He’d napped off and on during the night, but mostly he paid attention to the woman next to him. She was sound asleep and looked adorable with her clunky headphones and sleep mask.

Creepy much, Calhoun?

Kat’s body jerked and she bolted upright, knocking against Cal and sloshing the coffee all over his shirt and pants. She looked around wildly, her mask and headphones still firmly in place. Even though she covered him in coffee, Cal couldn’t help but snicker at her. Kat ripped the mask and headphones off and gulped the airplane air like she’d been drowning. Three more deep breaths, and she sank back into the seat.

“Good mornin’, Miss Kat” sent her into another paroxysm until she seemed to remember that she was on a plane to Ireland.

“Morning.” Kat’s cheeks were flushed, and her mouth hung open just a smidgen. “Wow, I don’t even sleep that hard at home. Maybe I need to take more transatlantic flights.”

“Maybe,” he murmured.

“Granola bar?” Kat thrust a breakfast bar in his face. “I have peanut butter and crunchy oats.”

When Cal declined, she shrugged and tore off a corner of the package with her teeth. Cal pretended to snooze, but in reality, he watched her study her raft of papers while she snacked on the granola bar.

“Where is the orange juice service?” Kat asked through a mouthful of peanut butter granola. She glanced over at his now-stained shirt. “Sorry about your coffee.”

He chuckled. “No worries. It was shitty coffee anyway.”

“You were playing possum, you sneak.” Kat hid her grin with her hand, her eyes dancing with merriment.

Cal laughed. “ ‘Playing possum’? For some reason, I don’t think you encounter many possums in Boston.”

“No, you got me there.” She was still grinning at him, but Cal noticed her picking at the edge of the stack of papers in her lap.

Kat opened her mouth and Cal leaned forward, closing the space between them. The air was heavy with expectation, and Cal got the feeling that he needed to remember this moment.

“Um, Cal—” Kat began, only to be interrupted by the morning beverage service. She got her sought-after orange juice and Cal secured another cup of coffee, and they returned to their respective silences. Cal glanced over several times, hoping she would finish her sentence, but she remained consumed with her stack of papers.

It wasn’t too long before the pilot announced their descent into Dublin, and Kat and Cal spent the rest of the flight staring out the window and remarking about the brilliant green countryside, though Kat seemed to grow more and more agitated as time passed. She continually checked her watch, and when the plane finally stopped taxiing and the Fasten Seat Belt light turned off, she shot out of her seat and practically ran up the aisle to the closet. Cal stayed put until the plane was almost empty, kicking himself for not asking where she was staying or even how long she was staying.

Mr. PenClicker clicked his pen one last time and slid it into an inside pocket of his suit. “Guess you missed your chance. Too bad, buddy. She was a hot little number.”

Cal had never wanted to punch someone so hard in his life.