Seductive Fantasy

Dennis would have gladly volunteered to fulfill her fantasy. Except she didn’t want the complication of mixing their business relationship with something more intimate. There was also the important fact that she didn’t connect with him on a physical and emotional level.

She’d known for years that Dennis harbored feelings toward her, but she’d always been careful not to lead him on or give him the wrong impression. She adored him as a friend, trusted him as an employee and respected him as a man. Dennis, for all his loyalty and obvious affection toward her, didn’t make her feel breathless with excitement. No man ever had. Then again, she wasn’t the type of sensual, sophisticated woman who inspired a man’s intense, sexual interest. And since she’d recently come to the conclusion that she’d probably never experience the kind of passionate, impetuous, devoted relationship her own parents had shared, this fantasy would be her last chance to embrace all those lush, uninhibited, thrilling pleasures she’d been denied before she settled into motherhood. Alone and on her own.

In the meantime, with an attractive, enticing stranger picked out for her sole enjoyment and gratification, she’d wholeheartedly indulge in the feeling of being desired and desirable. She planned to drench every one of her five senses in the luxury of being romantically pursued.

Alex released a calm breath and shifted in her seat. Because of the personal, intimate nature of Alex’s request, Ms. Weston had assured her that she’d do her best to make sure that her fantasy man would possess the same physical characteristics as she—black hair and blue eyes—so that there would be a much greater chance of conceiving a baby with her same traits.

Obviously, there was no promise that she’d leave with a child—only Mother Nature, not a paid fantasy, could guarantee that. But in five more days she’d be at her most fertile, and she planned to make the most of that opportunity.

Without warning, the plane hit an air pocket, and the cabin shook from the unexpected turbulence, jarring Alex out of the tranquility that had settled over her. She sucked in a sharp breath and her hand automatically shot out to grip the armrest between her seat and another passenger’s. Instead of cushioned upholstery she came into contact with the firm, sinewy muscle of a man’s arm. Hair roughened and incredibly warm and inviting, his skin disturbed her more than the aircraft’s brief change in altitude.

Chagrined that she’d latched onto a stranger, a very masculine, athletically built stranger if that strong arm was any indication, she immediately snatched her fingers back and settled her balled up fists in her lap.

“Sorry,” she murmured, keeping her eyes tightly closed, as if that could conceal her acute embarrassment. She might have been able to hide her eyes but there was nothing she could do to disguise the obvious heat spreading up her neck, across her cheeks, and all the way to the tips of her ears. The burning sensation made her feel restless in a way she didn’t fully understand.

Before she could contemplate her startling reaction, long fingers grazed lightly across her clenched knuckles, and her pulse skyrocketed. Someone, the man she assumed was sitting beside her, picked up her hand, drew it across the armrest separating them, and slowly and gently unfurled her fingers. She swallowed, hard, as he flattened her hand between two incredibly large palms, engulfing her in a strange mixture of heat and soothing comfort. She’d been alone for so long, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d experienced such a tender gesture.

He swept his thumb along the veins in her wrist, then pressed it against her rapid, erratic pulse. “Your heartbeat is unsteady. Are you okay?”

His voice was smooth and rich, like the decadent Amaretto truffles she indulged in on occasion. Spirals of awareness curled through her, wreaking havoc with the feminine nerves that had lain dormant for too long. Unable to speak for a variety of reasons, most prominent of which was her response to him, she nodded jerkily.

“Then open your eyes and look at me so I can see for myself that you’re okay,” he coaxed in that deep, delicious tone.

For the first time since boarding the seaplane, she lifted her lashes…and stared into a dark, velvet blue gaze that made her own blue eyes pale in comparison. Her stomach dipped, and this time being thrown off balance had nothing to do with the plane hitting an air pocket, and everything to do with the man sitting next to her.

He was big, solidly male and gorgeous in a way that made her feel extremely self-conscious of her own ordinary features. For the sake of comfort during her long ten-hour trip to Florida, and admittedly, out of routine, she’d twisted her hair into a French braid to keep it neat and tidy, and had worn a comfortable loose skirt and blouse to travel in. Never in her entire life had she been more aware of her appearance…and how frumpy she must look.

“That’s better.” A charming grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “At least now I’m assured that you’re not going to pass out on me.”

No, but she was feeling a bit light-headed from all this attention. She struggled to find her voice. “I’ll be fine…just as soon as we land.”

“Which can’t be soon enough for you, I take it?”

She shook her head and laughed, the sound strained with nerves and the kind of tantalizing awareness she wasn’t used to feeling. “No. The sooner the better.”

His hair, she noticed, was cut into a neat, executive-type style that accentuated his handsome, chiseled features. The thick strands were an inky black, and a perfect complement to her own ebony mane. So far, he had the makings of her own personal fantasy man.

A staggering excitement rushed through her blood at the thought, though she couldn’t be certain that he was the one. He could be just as he presented—a gentleman assisting a woman in distress. And most likely he was exactly that.

He tipped his head, regarding her curiously. “Are you afraid of flying?”

“Sort of,” she admitted. “My parents died in a small plane just like this one.”

“Aah,” he said in understanding, giving her hand a gentle, compassionate squeeze that tugged at something equally elemental within her. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” She rested her head against the back of her seat, keeping her gaze averted from the window. “I was only ten at the time, but being closed in and flying over the ocean brings back memories of how they passed away.”

“Understandably so,” he murmured.

Realizing he still held her hand between his, and sure he’d rather let her go but was being polite, she attempted to withdraw from his grasp. He held her captive, his hold firm, his fascination with her undeniably genuine. Pressing her splayed fingers against a taut, denim-covered thigh, he lightly trapped her hand beneath the press of his palm.

As if she was going anywhere!

Absently, he stroked the skin between her thumb and forefinger, the caress so intimate and sensual it made her quiver deep inside. “Maybe I can help keep you distracted for the remainder of the flight.”

Oh, she was most definitely distracted…and mesmerized. His sole focus was on her, which was beguiling in itself.

“I suppose we should start with introductions,” he said, another lazy, sexy smile making an appearance. “I’m Jackson Witt. And you are?”

Completely smitten. Alex supposed that’s what happened when a woman was the focal point of a gorgeous man’s attention. She’d dated a handful of men, one long enough in college to constitute a relationship, but none had ever made her feel so entranced and infatuated at first glance.

She noticed the suddenly intense way he was staring at her, as if he was waiting for some kind of reaction. Well, she was definitely affected by him, except there was no way for him to see the internal flurry of rippling heat and sultry desire he evoked.

She called up a reciprocating smile that she found came easily to her lips. “It’s nice to meet you, Jackson,” she said, and was taken aback by the visible relief that passed across his expression. It was gone so quickly, she had to wonder if she’d imagined the odd emotion. “I’m Alexis Baylor, but everyone calls me Alex.”

“Why?” he asked abruptly.

She shook her head in confusion. “Why what?”

“Why does everyone call you Alex when Alexis is such a beautiful name?”

She ducked her head, contemplating his comment. Honestly, she’d never felt much like an Alexis, a name which to her implied elegance and grace.

Slanting him a glance, she shrugged, having long ago grown used to the boyish nickname. “My uncle, who raised me after my parents passed away, always called me Alex, and I suppose it became a habit.”

He grinned with sinful intent, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “One I intend to break…Alexis.”

The way her name rolled off his tongue was like a silky, sensual caress to her senses. Adding to that pleasant mental stimulation was the featherlight stroke of his fingers between hers, where she’d suddenly become ultrasensitive. While his touch was innocent, her entire body hummed with a luxurious warmth, one that was provocative as well as enjoyable.

“So, where are you from?” he asked.

She knew he was trying to make idle conversation, and she appreciated the diversion. “San Diego.”

A dark brow winged upward. “Considering how uncomfortable you seem in a plane, how did you manage to get to Miami? By train?”

She laughed, and this time the sound was light and carefree, lacking the tension that had engulfed her earlier. “I flew, of course. It’s the smaller commuter planes I have a problem with, not big, sturdy jetliners. And where are you from?”

“Atlanta.”

She toyed with the end of her braid, which curled over her shoulder and rested just above her breast. “And I take it you’re going to Seductive Fantasy, too?”

He nodded, his gaze shifting from the play of her fingers to her mouth, then her eyes, his perusal slow and lazy. “Yes.”

So, he either had a fantasy or was someone’s fantasy—or maybe both. “For a fantasy?” she asked, hoping the obvious question would unearth deeper information about the man.

His eyes darkened, turning a smokey shade of blue. “Most definitely for a fantasy,” he murmured.

She shivered at the sudden intensity cloaking him. Unable to help herself, even though she knew she was venturing into private territory, she asked, “What is your fantasy?” Was that her voice that sounded so breathless?