“You!” Nicole exclaimed.

“You,” he echoed in return. He looked genuinely pleased to see her again, and she could certainly say the same for herself. It wasn’t every day she ran into a man as ridiculously handsome as him, so she was going to be sure to drink up as much of the eye candy he offered.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Small world.”

“Small airport, at least.”

Hundreds of thousands of people passed through this airport daily, she was sure, so she considered herself beyond lucky to have run into his fine self twice. Sitting next to him on this flight, nonetheless. Something like that couldn’t be planned. How could it? There was no way she’d allow herself to be that paranoid. She understood she left a shit storm behind her by walking away from Terratech when and how she did. People were pissed. Her ass was on the line. Still, life went on. She couldn’t assume the rest of the world was concerned about the intrigue in her goings on. She needed to be smart, of course, but she also didn’t need to drive herself insane through this.

Besides, she liked this guy. He had the looks, and who could ignore his smile, his eyes, and that muscular build? For sure, he’d likely turn out to be a decent travel companion. It couldn’t be any worse than the old guy who’d sat next to her the last time she visited her father. He snored louder than the plane engines.

She pointed to the inside seat. “Sorry, I need to get by.”

He didn’t move.

Oh, he was going to be like that?

Great. Clearing her throat, she slid past him to get to her seat, facing away from the son of a bitch so he could appreciate the workouts her ass got in spinning class. Without even really having to try too hard, she gave him a good view of her ass as she pressed through.

“What are the chances?” Mr. Sexy Eyes asked after she’d slipped by him to slide into her roomy window seat.

Now that she’d stashed her bags in the overhead and under the seat in front of her, she could give him complete, full, and undivided attention.

“Whatever the chances are, we should probably buy a lottery ticket when we land, right?”

He chuckled and nodded at her. Holding up his ticket, he said, “We should play 8-8-1.”

She tilted her head. “Why? Is that your birthday? August 1981?”

It was his turn to lift a brow. “Do I look that old?” Without waiting for her response, he indicated their flight number. “Flight 8-8-1.”

She tossed her head back and laughed. Then, she realized her hair was still piled up on top of her head like she was sitting around in the dorm studying for finals and didn’t care what she looked like. But, oh.., she did. Dammit!

The flight attendant arrived with their drinks and serving of mixed roasted nuts. Nicole took the opportunity to yank her hair down and hastily pull her fingers through in a mock-combing fashion. It would have to do for now.

The man held the items for her while Nicole made room in the console area separating them. He then accepted an ice cold beer for himself, as well as his pre-flight snack. He held the nuts out to her. “Would you like mine?” he asked.

Without missing a beat, she responded. “Your nuts?”

“Yes. My warm nuts.”

“Oh they’re warm are they?”

“Very much so. A little salty, too.” He nudged them toward her. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”

She smirked at him. “You want to give me your warm nuts?”

“Sure. Take them. You can handle it.”

“You want me to grasp your warm nuts in my hand and then put them in my mouth?”

He slapped his hand on his thigh and burst out laughing. “I give up. You win! Damn, you’re good. Straight-faced and everything. Are you an actress?”

Nicole shifted his pro-offered bowl next to hers and plucked a hefty walnut from the top. “Worse. Computer nerd.” She tossed the snack into her mouth and slowly chewed, well aware he was watching her.

Snickering, he added, “You’re nowhere near nerd-dom.”

She swallowed and then said, “Oh yeah? Want me to talk code to you?”

“Would it be as good as the nuts?”

“Hmmm… don’t know. Depends on how well your DOS prompt is doing these days.”

“I didn’t even know I had one,” he said almost straight-faced.

“Well, there’s nothing like good user interfacing or scrubbing dirty data.”

“Interfacing is good. People should interface more often,” he added.

“I could certainly use more RAM,” she said, cracking herself up.

“I do have a joystick,” he added.

She laughed hard as he played along. A gamer reference, but still. “I’m more concerned about the hardware, and whether or not your… dongle will fit my slot.”

That seemed to do it. He shook his head in utter defeat. “If I had a white flag, I might surrender.”

Nicole leaned in his direction and took the low ball of ice-cold amber liquid in her hand. “We’d have to negotiate a peace treaty. What do you have that I might want?”

His eyes beamed. “You mean, besides my warm nuts?”

She didn’t crack a smile at all, staying in character. “Right… besides the warm nuts. And the joystick.”

The guy scratched his chin with his thumb and forefinger, mulling over his options. He lifted his phone from his lap. “An Apple for the teacher.”

“Lame,” Nicole said and then took a swig off her potent cocktail.

He motioned down to his boots. “These? They’re size 14. You know what they say about men with big feet.”

“That they’re feet smell twice as much?” She couldn’t help herself. “Nice shit-kickers, though. Are you from Texas?” Those boots he wore were meant for farming or serious cattle ranching or mountain climbing.

“No… I just like them.”

God, she loved this. Absolutely, loved it. He was different from the guys she usually dated—not that there had been that many recently. He was certainly much more entertaining than Ryan. Immediately, he had a way of settling her nerves from the fracas she’d existed in with work, late hours, missed meals, disrupted sleep, Ryan jerking her around every which way, and now this insanity she was fleeing from.

Was it any wonder she had to bolt?

And, why this drink was going down so smoothly?

And, why this guy’s fucking eyes made her pussy tighten involuntarily?

“I’m Nick, by the way.”

Her smile spread wide. “No shit? I’m Nic. Well, Nicole, but a lot of my friends call me Nic for short.”

“Probably because you are short,” he teased.

“Yes, it’s on the list of grievances I have against my parents, along with that stupid curfew I had when I was younger, making me work at the campus eatery to earn money for college, the half-moon birthmark around my belly button, oh yeah… and my mom dying when I was twelve. The height thing… well, that shit pushed me over the edge.”

The mirth coming from her faded hastily when she realized what she’d revealed. Dammit, three sips of Chivas and she was making psychiatrist couch confessions. She wouldn’t be surprised at all if she turned her head and Nick was requesting a change of seating assignment.

She felt his hand on hers for a brief moment. The warmth radiating from his palm sizzled against the top of her hand and spread quickly throughout her arm. It wasn’t the whiskey talking this time. It was her body coming to life underneath his touch. She didn’t know whether he was comforting her or feeling sorry for her.

Her eyes followed the path from his hand up to his face, and she softly said, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No… I’m sorry to hear all that.” He paused and then added, “I lost my mom, too. Both my parents, actually.”

Nicole’s eyes went wide, and she covered her mouth with her right hand. “Oh, my God. That must have been horrible. How old were you?”

He pulled a long sip from the beer, staring ahead at the back of the bald headed man in front of them. For a moment, Nicole thought he might not respond and that he was done with her.

“I was just a baby. I don’t really remember either one of them. Her more than him.”

She definitely needed another swig of the whiskey. It coated her mouth with a creamy and fragrant mixture of comforting tastes, then spicy and peppery with a sweet tail note to finish. Sort of like this guy, Nick. In no time, they were completely comfortable with each other, a bit spicy in their interaction and now he was beyond sweet, identifying with her with a similar past.

He chuckled and withdrew his hand from hers. “Aren’t we the life of the party?”

She returned his humor. “Totally. Wait until I tell you about how my dog died… kidding!”

“You’re adorable,” he blurted out.

Warmth rose up her neck and stained her cheeks before she knew it. “You’re not bad yourself.”

Not knowing what to do next, she had another sip of the Scottish blend and then chased it with a gulp of water. She didn’t need to be completely wasted out of her mind, no matter how much stress she was under.

“So, the campus eatery?” he asked.

Nodding, she said, “Stanford.”

“Impressive,” he said.

“The school or the job?” she quipped.

“Both. Prestigious school.”

Almost snorting, she said, “Expensive school. Where did you go?”

Nick toyed with the condensation on his beer bottle. “University of Uncle Sam.”

Hmmm… that explained the killer, toned physique. She’d known that body type her whole life growing up around soldiers, airmen, and sailors.

“I thought you were military.”

“Ex-military,” he added quickly.

“Ahhh, which branch?”

“Army. Special Forces.”

It was her turn to be impressed now. Mr. Sexy was one well-trained bad-ass. “Damn,” she said and bobbed her head up and down. “Ranger? Green Berets? Delta Force?”

He looked impressed again. “You know your stuff, huh?”

She lifted her hand up next to her in a confessional manner. “Air Force brat who’s lived in ten states in twenty-four years. So, which was it?”

“All the above,” he admitted. He lifted his beer and drained the rest of it as the flight attendant approached. She took the bottle from him, as well as a few cups and trash from other people. Nicole figured they must be about ready to depart.

Let’s get out of here!

She resisted letting out a long sigh. “How can you do all of the above?” she asked.

Adjusting in his seat, he faced her some more. “Well, Green Berets are trained more in unconventional warfare like sabotage, subversion, gorilla shit. Rangers do the same thing, but more things like ambushes, raids, seizures on land. Delta Force deals pretty much with counterterrorism. Anything more than that and I’d have to kill you with my bare hands.”

Their eyes synced up and held for what felt like an hour. Nicole knew if she drowned in his orbs, she’d go with a smile. Every nerve sensor in her body was on high alert. Nick was conducting his own attack on her. But fuck, she wasn’t going down without a fight.

The overhead static from the flight announcement cracked the moment. Nick smiled and sat back, making himself comfortable. Nicole did the same, anxious to get up in the air and put some distance between her and the people out to harm her. She just wanted to be away to figure out what the fuck to do next. Thank God, her dad was on his way to meet her. He’d know exactly what to do.

In the meantime, she was going to relax and try not to think about it for six hours. Six potential hours with the gorgeous man beside her. Six hours to see where this went and what could happen. After all, she might not have much longer. She didn’t want to waste a minute.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re third in line for takeoff. Please make sure your tray tables are secured, your carry-on luggage has been stowed, and your seat backs are in an upright position.

Boldly, she reached her hand across and laced her fingers through his. Nick’s head popped down to see what she had done. His eyes questioned, but didn’t protest.

“Do you mind? I hate the takeoff.”

Clutching her fingers, he tightened the grip, adjusting so his large hand protectively covered hers. “You don’t like the rhythm of the forward motion and the huge thrust?”

Her throat went dry. “I like the thrusting part.”

He winked and squeezed a bit. “Of course, you do.”

She hoped she had the chance to show him before someone finished her off. She’d rather he finish her off…