Ben Cannon knew better than to take a midweek flight into North Bend. He shifted uncomfortably in the tiny seat and checked his watch again. Ten minutes still remained until the almost-empty flight was scheduled to take off. He needed to get comfortable. Attempting to stretch in his seat, he bumped his head on the roof of the tiny plane and cursed. What had he been thinking?

The tiny North Bend airport only saw jets on weekends when tourists came and went. Midweek flights, made by twin-engine puddle-jumper planes, were never designed to accommodate people over six feet. At six foot seven, Ben found it nearly impossible to find a comfortable position. He stretched his neck from side-to-side, giving thanks it was only a forty-minute flight from Eugene to North Bend. Or it would be, if they ever got off the ground.

Ben reached up to push his hair off his forehead. His knuckles scraped on the console above him. He swallowed a groan and prayed to get out of this tin can soon.

A commotion at the door caught his interest, and if the craned necks in front of him were any indication, it got the attention of the six other passengers as well. The pilot emerged from the cockpit to welcome aboard a leggy blonde. Pale blonde hair flipped before touching her shoulders, revealing a crimson hue underneath. Definitely a tourist. Maybe a model. She was tall enough, lithe, pretty. But she wouldn’t look up so he could catch the color of her eyes, or make contact.

Ben smiled as he watched the eager pilot stow her bag and usher her to a seat. When the beauty took a seat up front, out of his direct sight, his smile faded. Just his luck. Seven seats on either side of the plane and she had to be right up front, with him back behind the hump. How he hated these flying sewer pipes.

Ben leaned into the aisle for a closer look. There was something about her, something familiar, and yet he couldn’t place her. From this angle he could just make out her silky layered blouse and short ruffled skirt.

She couldn’t be local. Women at home did their own hair and shopped at Wal-Mart. Rubbing his chin he stretched out farther, watching her fingers attack the keyboard of her laptop.

His eyes scanned downward, enjoying the few extra inches of thigh her skirt revealed. Her curvy legs extended into the aisle like they belonged there. He couldn’t know her. There was no way he’d forget a woman tall enough for those stems who pulled off shoes like that—black and strappy with at least four inches of stiletto heel. He didn’t know her, but he wanted to.

* * *

Jillian Welch had felt Ben’s heavy stare every second of the flight. Now, in the safety of the town car, her blood pressure began to lower. For almost an hour every heartbeat had registered in her ears. How in the world did she expect to pull this off when she could barely look at the man?

Complete infatuation, that’s all. She’d been obsessed with him for seven years. And the obsession had hatched a scheme to find out once and for all if her fantasy man was as much of a dud as every other man in her life.

“It’s all in your head, Jilly, it isn’t real,” she muttered under her breath. “Infatuation, obsession, fixation. Two minutes of conversation and you’ll learn he’s just like every other man on the planet.”

Forcing herself to take deep cleansing breaths like in yoga class, Jillian went over her plan. Until now, she’d assumed her project would be easy. After all, she was The Dating Diva, able to find fault in a man in five seconds flat, able to turn down dates with a single shake of her head.

Pride warmed her cheeks at the memory of earning her column in Mine & Ours magazine. She’d wanted to be a columnist since she could remember, to have a place to voice her opinions. Being The Dating Diva and chronicling her misadventures in the dating realm wasn’t the forum of her dreams, but it did afford her the opportunity to write features for the magazine as well.

Her editor had assigned her to look into the golf-course clubhouse becoming the new singles meat-market even though she’d never held a club. It had annoyed her until she discovered Ben Cannon, her unrequited college fantasy, ran a golf resort. And then the scheme blossomed. She could use her assignment on the golf-course dating boom as a ruse to find out more about Ben. Then, once she learned he hadn’t morphed into a serial killer or family man with a half-dozen kids, she’d make her move.

He hadn’t worn a ring. In the ten seconds she’d allowed herself to look at his slim, athletic body, that was the first thing she checked. She’d taken in as much as she could without seeming obvious—the deep-set blue-black eyes, the chiseled jaw line, dark coffee-brown hair.

To clear her mind, she took in the wooded scenery as the car passed the airport and made its way to the highway. She’d arranged for a driver because she hadn’t tried to drive since moving to New York six years ago. Plus, having a driver waiting made her escape easier. In case Ben really had been eyeing her the entire flight.

She shook her head at the ridiculous notion. Her own mother had walked past her at the airport three days ago, and that was without the brown contacts. He couldn’t possibly recognize her, and even if he did, he didn’t know her name.

* * *

Vanished, into thin air. Ben tried to follow the blonde off the plane, but by the time he’d unfolded himself from his seat and helped an older couple pull their luggage from the tiny overhead bins, she’d evaporated. The North Bend airport was small—she should have shone in the monotonous crowd—but he couldn’t see her anywhere.

Ben devoted the hour drive up the Oregon coast to Bandon to trying to place her. She seemed so familiar, and yet completely unknown. Maybe he knew her from college, or when he interviewed with the law firms in New York. She looked very New York, all class and polish.

“Or it could be that you’re as horny as a dog.” He pushed the buttons on the stereo, making the machine shuffle through the CDs. Dave Matthews, Green Day, John Mayer, Everclear, finally settling on the Eagles’ greatest hits. “Desperado” rang through the speakers.

Stuck in the Jeep for the duration of the drive, he turned the music up in an attempt to drown out his thoughts. How long had it been? He blasted the volume to avoid the answer. Too long. Way too long.

Since coming home, he’d been too wrapped up in running the resort and worrying about Jay to even go there. Cannon Meadows, the Oregon coastal golf resort his family owned, required a lot of work, and the responsibility to see everything ran smoothly landed on his shoulders. But he’d gotten nothing done today. Instead, he’d spent his morning trapped in a family-counseling session in Arizona, trying to help his brother detox back into the real world.

The entire rehab program befuddled him. He didn’t understand the concept of addiction or why Jay kept falling back into the clutches every time he got clean. But rehab seemed to be working this time. Jay came out swinging in every session. Their clash in therapy made him smile. It was nice to see Jay’s spirit back again. He’d been defeated for so long.

With Jay on the road back to reality, he didn’t need to worry about him as much. Might even concentrate on his own lack of a life. Before drowning in the family legacy, dating had been on the back burner. There hadn’t been much opportunity for fun during his last hellish year of law school. He’d barely managed to sleep and eat, let alone do anything enjoyable.

His body ached with the raw need to remedy the neglect. Which explained him lusting over some hottie on the plane. He didn’t know her. He just wanted to, intimately.

Ben felt his grin spread from ear to ear and shook his head. He’d never gone this long without female attention. Ever since his teens, women had propositioned him frequently. It began at the course. Older women asking for private lessons, only he’d been the one being tutored. Once he was in college, girls flocked to him as an athlete. Score enough points to get your picture in the school paper and everyone was your friend. Get mentioned in Sports Illustrated and, well, you were never lonely again.

He’d been naïve enough to think both situations had something to do with him. The first term of grad school hit him like a ton of bricks. He was the same, but there were no more women coming on to him after games, because he wasn’t playing. He’d stopped taking women up on their offers at the course the summer after his sophomore year when he woke up to find two thousand dollars on the nightstand. That one still made him queasy.

Moving back to a town where everyone knew him since the sandbox didn’t help, either. Maybe he’d allow himself a summer fling like he used to. Something light and simple. Anything to keep him from stalking helpless strangers with too-long legs on airplanes.

* * *

Jillian lay back on the king-sized bed and let out the breath she’d been holding. He hadn’t seen her. Laughing out loud, she kicked off her heels and stretched her arms. If this idea of hers had any hope of working, she’d need to get over her nerves, and quick.

Their first meeting to go as planned. For the last two months, she’d played out every minute of it in her head. Every detail crystallized the moment she and David decided to break up. Calmly, rationally, over dinner at the bistro next to her apartment building. They’d still split dessert.

David was a great guy, but Jillian could not muster any romantic feeling for him. None at all. Just like every other man she dated. Fantasies of Ben Cannon kept her from moving forward. She needed to prove Ben was no different than the rest, only a much better kisser.

Jillian glanced about the luxurious room. Cool, neutral tile floors, creamy down comforter. Enough marshmallow pillows to cover half the bed. The mahogany armoire hid a television. A small desk with a phone and computer plug-ins. A round table and two overstuffed white armchairs. Ivory drapes hid a wall of windows, keeping the room dim.

She’d been in Oregon for two days, but her body refused to adjust from Eastern Standard Time. The digital alarm clock on the nightstand said it wasn’t yet four, the perfect time for a siesta.

She scaled the mountain of pillows until her body melted into them. Breathing in the crisp linen scent, Jillian looked about the room as her mind wandered to Ben. Where was he? Did he live at the resort with a room like this one, or was there a home he went to at night?

He looked so good on the plane this afternoon. Jillian grinned, conjuring up the vision. Uncomfortable and cramped, but gorgeous. She’d never seen him in a suit before. Well, most of a suit. The charcoal jacket and preppy patterned tie had draped over the seat opposite him. The unbuttoned chalky dress shirt that set off his deep tan and dark hair.

She could have moved to a seat closer to him. Struck up a conversation. Made it seem like two strangers meeting for the first time. She could have smelled him, felt his warmth, maybe caught a ride with him to the resort, laughing all the way about the funny coincidence.

It could’ve worked, but it also could have backfired and ruined her whole plan. Plus, she didn’t have the brown contacts in. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Who was she kidding? He wouldn’t remember. There wasn’t much to recall. It might have been the highlight of her life, but she doubted it registered on his Richter scale.

Ben Cannon had caught her eye as a freshman walk-on for the University of Oregon basketball team. She’d watched women snake their way to him the next year, especially after a game. Who wouldn’t want to bed a basketball star? A tall, broad-shouldered, ruggedly handsome creature that moved like sex, even on the basketball court. She’d ponder the smooth power of his muscled arms, imagine what they’d feel like around her, envision how the muscles of his chest, the tightness of his abdomen, would look in the dim light of her bedroom.

Jillian fantasized about him all through graduate school. Never missed a home game, even conning her dad into funding trips for away games. She tossed to her back and buried her head with a pillow. She didn’t want to think about her father, about the mirage of family he tricked them all into. An illusion of happiness. A romanticized notion Jillian had to put aside.

She needed to see Ben clearly to move on with her life. She’d found wonderful men who should have been perfect for her. Yet in the dark, she always wanted them to be him. Which wasn’t fair to anyone.

Maybe if she’d just let things progress naturally that night. Maybe he would’ve disappointed her too. Then she wouldn’t have wasted all this time wondering what it would be like.

Her mind wandered back to that night. She could almost hear Katy’s voice as she thrust the electric-green jello shot into Jillian’s hands. “As we say around here, just do it!”

“What’s this?” Jillian peered into the gelatinous Dixie cup.

“Liquid courage.” Katy laughed.

Jillian downed the semi-set concoction, not wanting to dodge all of Katy’s challenges. Sticky sweetness burned her throat as it slid down. She looked about the party and wondered why so many of her peers thought blaring music and smoky rooms were fun.

“Now are you ready?” Katy pleaded. Katy always wanted the same thing from her. She wanted her to live a little. Create crazy college memories they could laugh at together when they sat on the bleachers at soccer games for their kids. Luckily, Katy had enough stories for them both.

“I’m not doing anything,” Jillian said to the ground, not daring to meet the scowl on Katy’s face whenever she chickened out.

“Oh yes, you are. You swore you’d have some kind of encounter before we graduated. You decided to graduate early, so that moves up the deadline. You only have two weeks left.”

“This is just...” Jillian’s brain searched for the right word while her eyes searched for a way out of the frat house, “...unnatural.”

“Unnatural?” Katy let out a snort. She pulled Jillian closer by the sleeve. “Unnatural is graduating from college a virgin. You’ve made it all the way through grad school. Damn near abnormal.”

Jillian rolled her eyes. “A little louder please.”

Katy waved the comment away with a flick of her wrist. “With this music and the crowd, no one can hear, much less care to listen. Anyway, you’re verging on breach of contract.”

“You can’t be serious.” The music slowed, changing to The Eagles’ “Heartache Tonight”. Jillian was grateful for a break from the noise, until several drunken partiers began to sing along.

“When we moved in together, you promised you’d tangle up with a man at some point before we graduate. A date, a kiss, a blushworthy college memory. Are you really going back on your word?”

“Absolutely.” Jillian met her friend’s eyes. There was no way she could—

“Oh my God. It’s your lucky day. He’s here.”

“He?” Jillian began to feel queasy from the combination of the drink and the situation. She never drank, and the idea of doing anything remotely blushworthy sent her reeling. “Tell me you didn’t hire someone to paw me at a party.” Panic-stricken, she looked for an exit, realizing the effect the alcohol had on her system as the room started to pulse.

“Ben Cannon, your fantasy boy toy. Don’t try to deny it. Your eyes never left him the entire game. Since when do you like basketball anyway?”

Since she first saw his picture in the school paper. The man was breathtaking. “He’s nineteen, Katy, knock it off.”

“So? You’re twenty-four. Maybe you could work up a little Mrs. Robinson magic—or you could if you would loosen up and have some experience.”

“Can we go now?”

“Not until you kiss him. Don’t bother telling me you don’t want to. I live with you, remember? You’ve started watching college basketball and reading the sports section. You’re totally crushing on him. Just do it. What have you got to lose?”

“Dignity.” Jillian stared as Ben made his way through the crowded fraternity house.

“Overrated,” Katy countered.

“You’re not going to goad me into anything.”

“I’m not asking you to marry him, or even sleep with him. Live a little. Make a crazy college memory, some skeleton in your closet. Something to show my influence over you for the last six years.”

Ben approached and Katy’s voice faded into oblivion. All Jillian heard was blood pounding in her ears, the calm of alcohol washing over her brain. Even crossing a crowded room the man seemed to glide. Every step held the fluidity of dancing. He came closer and closer, not stopping until he stood in front of her.

His tall frame blocked the light, sound, confusion of the party. She had to look up to see his face, ignore everything going on in the world below. Every thought process halted, except one. Her eyes studied his lips intently, charting their course.

“I saw you at the game.” His voice was low and mellow, like melted chocolate.

Jillian could only nod, reaching her hand up to his neck. Instinct, destiny, desire moved her body without volition. Pulling him down slowly, so that on her tiptoes she could part his lips with her own. Soft and tentative at first, but then hard and deep and totally unforgettable. The kind of kiss where breathing is secondary to pleasure.

She dove into him, living every fantasy she’d had since she’d seen him that fall. She ran her fingers through his deep brown hair, unbelievably silky to the touch and still a little wet. She felt his hands on her face, down her sides, long fingers gripping her hips, wrapping around and lifting her up. Instinctively she wrapped a leg around him as they glided backwards into the wall.

Never breaking the kiss, she drank him in—his smell, taste, sound. One of his broad hands slipped beneath her sweater, finding her breast. She wanted this and more. Her breast swelled at his tender touch, filling his cupped palm, just as she felt his hardness insistent, pressing against her.

“Damn, Ben, get a room!” A voice broke the spell.

Jillian’s eyes opened wide. She bolted back to reality and sobriety. She pushed at his shoulders and dropped to the floor. Adrenaline overruled the rush of the kiss. It coursed through her veins, screaming for her to run. What had she been thinking?

Jillian sat up on the bed and groaned, her brain whirling. An exhausted sigh escaped her as she shuffled to the desk and flipped open the binder containing the menu from room service. She didn’t want to risk bumping into Ben at either of the resort’s restaurants tonight. Not until she got her head together.

Best to stick to the plan.