Cassie is snoring softly in my arms, completely lost in what I hope are pleasant dreams. I should be doing the same thing, but it doesn’t matter how many times I try to turn off my brain, I just can’t seem to accomplish the task.

Which isn’t good, considering Cassie and I are supposed to be in the cockpit of our massive jet in just a few hours, shuttling a full complement of passengers to Athens.

When they set up Cassie and my schedules, Northwest gave us a pretty tight schedule, with only twelve or fifteen hours off between most of the flights, but this particular stop was supposed to be nearly twenty hours long.

I glance down at Cassie’s profile.

If I can fall asleep now, then when Cassie and I wake up, I’ll treat her to some great Italian food, followed by a walking tour of Florence, a city that’s almost as beautifully romantic as Paris, and follow that up with more good food and even better wine. Then, if we still have the time and energy, we’ll end up right here in this bed for another round of lovemaking.

Assuming, of course, that Cassie is up for it.

And assuming she doesn’t wake up and immediately freak out because we made love.

Which, as far as I’m concerned, is exactly what we’ve done.

The fact that I have a niggling suspicion that she and I aren’t on the same page about what tonight meant, coupled with how she’s going to react when she learns the truth about who I really am and why I’m flying, is driving me crazy.

That, combined with finding that body and Cassie’s casual comment about the financial concerns of Northwest’s execs, is doing a bang-up job of keeping me awake. How the hell have I managed to get myself into this position? When I first approached Northwest about hiring me as a pilot, my intentions were honorable—they still are—but at the time it was a lark, a fun game to prove to myself, my family, and society that there’s more to me than everyone assumes. But now … Ever since Cassie walked into that dingy little breakroom prior to our flight, I’ve had this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that this entire situation is going to explode in my face.

I’m not crazy about explosions happening near me.

My dad is constantly griping about how I never look before I leap into things. He claims it’s my biggest flaw and that someday it’s going to catch up with me.

Speaking of leaping before looking …

I glance down at Cassie’s sleeping profile.

Unable to help myself, I stroke my hand over Cassie’s slim shoulder and upper arm, marveling at the softness of her skin and the solid muscle just beneath. Cassie’s a tall woman and with Marilyn Monroe style curves, not the type of woman I’d expect to have powerful muscles. Just another thing that makes her an enigma.

The more I get to know her, the more she seems shrouded in mystery, and the more determined I am to peel back all the layers.

She comes across as this completely bad-ass woman, the kind who is in complete control of herself and her surroundings. Which I find completely sexy, which is strange since most of the women in my life, including the ones I date, are soft and yielding, always ready to fall all over themselves to please me. Once I start dating a woman, it’s like she loses all sense of herself, shedding all of her personality, all of her likes and dislikes, and becomes some kind of clone of the woman she thinks I’ll fall for.

It’s a trend that has always creeped me out, and now I’m sick and tired of it.

Not one of them has turned me on as much as Cassie.

Yet, despite all her toughness, every once in a while she says or does something that provides a glimpse of something softer, perhaps even the faintest trace of vulnerability.

Back in Atlanta, I was shocked to hear the words about love at first sight. I hadn’t meant to say it. I’ve always found the idea of love at first sight to be completely laughable, the kind of thing that only happens in romance novels.

If someone had said something like that to me, I’d have thought the same thing as Cassie did, that it was a bad come-on line.

But it wasn’t. I’m not sure what it was, or even what I meant when I said it.

I’m not in love with Cassie, at least I don’t think so, but the second my eyes met hers, my heart didn’t skip a beat but something deep inside of me shifted. I’m not saying I fell in love, but I’m willing to admit to falling into instant obsession. And the more I get to know Cassie, the more obsessed I become.

That’s why I dug in my heels and balked when she dragged me into this room.

I wanted to have sex with Cassie. I wanted her more than I’ve ever wanted another woman … more than I ever wanted anything. But as much as my body craved her, I didn’t want a one-night stand.

There was another reason I balked. The entire time I was trying to talk Cassie out of sleeping with me, I’d been afraid of how I’d react, that something inside of me would change forever.

But she was impossible to resist.

And I was right. Making love with Cassie was more intense, more spectacular than anything I’ve ever experienced before. The fact that with me she experienced multiple orgasms-and oh boy, just watching her experience them had rocked my world-for the first time made it even more special.

I’m not to the point where I’m planning our wedding or trying to pick out baby names, but the fact that I’m mentally creating the perfect romantic date instead of sleeping proves that I’m already pretty far gone.

Falling head over heels for my prickly, sharp tongued co-pilot wasn’t part of my plan.

The opening bars of the Star Wars theme breaks into my thoughts. Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, I slide out from under Cassie and kind of tumble to the floor. Using ringtone as a guide, I grope around until I locate my pants and dig my cell phone out of the pocket.

A picture of my oldest brother fills the screen.

I hit the answer button. “Hey, Emmet.” I keep my voice as low as possible. I don’t want Cassie to overhear this call. “Give me just a sec, okay?”