Texas Christmas. Nancy Thompson Robards
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flight from Paris barely made it to the gate at JFK International Airport in time for Pepper to go through customs, recheck her luggage and catch her connecting flight home. Delays leaving Charles De Gaulle Airport out of Paris had cut it dangerously close for her to catch the red-eye home. Yet, luck was on her side. She was one of the last passengers to board the plane bound for the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.
Once onboard, she struggled to stash her carry-on in the overhead compartment, astounded that there was still space available at this late hour. Thank goodness Ethan had purchased her a ticket in business class where the seats were generous and they weren’t packed in like sardines.
The man who was sitting in the seat directly below the compartment she was claiming tossed the black cowboy hat he’d been holding on his lap onto the seat next to him, stood while doing an agile bend and dip to avoid whacking his head on the overhead console and unfolded to his full height in front of her.
“Here, let me help you with that, ma’am.”
Ma’am? Only because she detected a slight Texas twang in his speech did she not take offense to him calling her ma’am. Instead, she chose to think, What a gentleman.
“Thank you,” she said as she looked up into brown eyes as dark and rich as Maya’s chocolates. They contrasted sharply with his spiky, sandy-blond hair. Good-looking guy. Polite, too, she thought.
And he was tall. Very tall. Probably six-four. The big, manly cowboy variety, with long, jean-clad legs and broad shoulders that flexed underneath his blue oxford cloth shirt as he lifted and stowed the bag in one fluid motion.
Pepper forced her gaze from the delicious show of muscles and strength, scooted past him and picked up the man’s cowboy hat before she tucked herself into the seat next to the window. When she’d settled herself and glanced out the window she breathed a sigh of relief. Not only had she made the connecting flight, but she was back on U.S. soil. No one in the New York airport had hassled her. Of course, along her sprint to get from customs to her Dallas-bound flight she hadn’t paused long enough for anyone to recognize her and not that anyone would in New York. But it was highly possible that anyone on board this flight might realize she was Harris Merriweather’s daughter and start something.
But so far so good. Keeping her face toward the window, she heaved another sigh of relief.
It was good to be home. Or almost, anyway.
“Sorry, I’ll take that from you,” the male voice said.
When Pepper looked, he was motioning to the hat.
“Oh, right, here you go,” she said. “And thanks again for helping me stash the suitcase.”
As he accepted the hat, there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “No problem.”
His brow furrowed, and his gaze searched her face.
Oh, no, here it comes. She braced herself.
“I’m Rob Macintyre. Have we met?”
Okay, not as bad as what she’d feared. But she needed to nip this in the bud. “No, I don’t think so, but it’s a pleasure meeting you now.”
Her brain raced as she tried to think of a diversion, a way to change the subject without being rude or, worse yet, antagonistic.
It was only a three-hour flight from New York to Dallas, but it could feel like an eternity if things got out of hand.
Thank goodness the flight attendants began their demonstration on the hows and whys of the emergency exits and oxygen masks. Rob...what did he say his last name was? Macintyre, right.
Rob Macintyre... It did sound a little familiar... Hmmm...
Anyway, Rob Macintyre turned his attention to the safety instructions, and Pepper adjusted her seat belt and settled back into her seat.
Then it hit her—Robert Macintyre?
Of course. She stole another glance at him to make sure she had the right guy. With his square jaw and sculpted cheekbones, his profile was just as handsome as his face was full-on. Not only was he one of the youngest oil barons in Texas, but he was also the enigma of the Dallas social scene; at the top of everyone’s guest list but always declining invitations.
No one could figure out why he was so antisocial, and that made him all the more appealing. Pepper had never met him personally—until today, and he certainly seemed anything but antisocial—but everyone in Dallas knew of him. And why not? He was young, rich, single and gorgeous.
He caught her staring and she looked away, only to glance back a moment later to have the same thing happen again.
Pepper felt heat ignite in her décolletage and begin to trail its way up her neck to her cheeks. With hopes that he wouldn’t notice, she bent down and picked up her purse, and to have something to do—and to keep herself from looking at him—she rifled through her handbag.
When she came across the box of chocolates that Maya had given her before she left St. Michel, she took it out of her purse, removed the lid and offered Rob one of the truffles. “As a thank-you for helping me with my bag,” she said.
He regarded the box, then looked up at her. Suddenly, she wasn’t quite sure what had compelled her to share her chocolate treasures, limited as they were. Of course, she didn’t need to eat a dozen truffles, but she hadn’t really planned on giving them away, either. Not until she found herself offering them to her seatmate. Oh, well, it was too late to withdraw the offer, especially after he said, “Thanks, those look delicious.”
As he bit into the candy, she decided that if he did figure out who she was—the same way it had dawned on her who he was—at least he couldn’t say she wasn’t nice to him. After all, she had shared her chocolate.
Yep, when all else failed, bribe ’em with chocolate. That was definitely becoming her motto.
“I’m sorry, you’ll need to stow your purse under the seat in front of you,” said the flight attendant. “We will be taking off momentarily.”
Pepper complied, and much to her relief, she and Robert carried on an easy, nonconfrontational conversation—talking about everything and nothing, steering clear of the personal—for the entire trip as the Boeing 757 carried them through the night from New York to the Dallas/Fort Worth airport.
* * *
After the plane landed, Robert retrieved Pepper’s carry-on, setting it down for her so that all she had to do was wheel it off the plane.
“Hey, it was really nice talking to you,” he said.
“It was,” she agreed. “I really enjoyed it.” She paused, hoping he would ask for her number, even though the last thing she needed right now was a new man in her life. But as she stared up at him as he casually stood in the aisle, leaning in toward her with his elbow braced on the back of the seat—good body language—she decided she could make exceptions for Robert Macintyre.
But he didn’t ask for it. Instead, he gestured to her with his hat and said, “Take care.”
Momentary disappointment washed over her, through her. But then she bucked up and reminded herself how busy she was going to be for the foreseeable future.
It was for the best.
But he was so darn gorgeous.
Oh, well.
She made her way off the plane and into the terminal. She just had to pick up her luggage at baggage claim, and then a taxi would take her home where she could sleep in her own bed for the first time in two weeks. If seeing Robert Macintyre again wasn’t an option, that sounded like the next most heavenly prospect.
“Hey, I know you,” said an unfamiliar, belligerent voice behind her.
Pepper tensed but kept walking without looking back. The voice didn’t belong to Robert Macintyre. She knew that without turning around. This man sounded much gravellier and quarrelsome.