The Boss's Surprise Son / Doctoring the Single Dad. Marie Ferrarella
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reason for him not to answer you. Nobody that knows you could see you in a loveless relationship.”
Savannah’s plan as she strapped herself into her business-class seat on the airplane was to act as if it were business as usual when Rick arrived. No talk of rules or relationships. Or anything else. She’d guard her tongue if she had to bite it off.
This was one time when his lack of talking would be welcome.
Where was he anyway? She leaned over the aisle seat to glance up the companionway but there was no sign of her stalwart boss. She’d been surprised when he wasn’t waiting for her in the departure area, but as the boarding passengers began to dwindle, she began to worry.
There shouldn’t be any traffic at this time of night. They were taking the red-eye to New York and would catch an international flight out of JFK in the morning.
Frowning, she looked at her watch. Oh, God, what if he didn’t show? Did she fly or get off the plane?
Just as she reached to ring the flight attendant to ask if he’d checked in, he strolled through the door.
And— oh my.
Rick in a business suit was controlled elegance, a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. Rick in jeans and a navy T-shirt was big and broad and just a little rough around the edges, a man who took what he wanted and enjoyed the challenge.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him the whole time he stowed his gear and took his seat.
When he met her stare with his take-no-prisoners blue eyes, she blurted, “I was about to flip a coin to see if I should fly without you or get off the plane.”
He didn’t apologize, simply said, “Rett drove me to the airport.”
“Oh. And he was late?”
“He wouldn’t think so.” Rick grimly stated what sounded like an age-old argument between the brothers. He tucked a newspaper in the seat back in front of him. “Rett and I have a difference of opinion about how much lead time you need when you’re flying.”
“Why do you let him drive you then?”
“As he pointed out, I haven’t missed a plane yet.”
“Well, this wasn’t the one to start with,” she informed him, still a little on edge at the close call, a feeling that nudged up a few notches when the plane door closed.
“Settle down, Ms. Jones. I’m here safe and sound.”
“Let’s hope you stay that way,” she muttered under her breath.
“What does that mean?” Of course he’d heard her.
“Nothing,” she evaded, her attention focused out the window at the city lights as the plane began to roll.
Now Rick had arrived, there was nothing to distract her from the fact she’d soon be taking to the air in a very heavy object. Biting on her lower lip, she reminded herself thousands of people flew across the country every day.
Suddenly a strong, warm hand closed over hers on the armrest, stilling her tapping fingers.
She followed the reverse angle from hand to hair-dusted forearm, to muscular biceps, to strong neck, stubborn chin and eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Don’t tell me you’re a nervous flyer,” he accused.
“I don’t know.” She pulled her hand free. “This is my first time flying. I’m sure I’ll be fine, but right at the moment, yes, I’m a little nervous.”
“Huh.” The suspicion backed down to mild irritation. “Don’t you have a Valium or something you can take?”
Now that was just rude.
“I don’t need to be medicated. I need a distraction.” She almost changed her mind about that as the plane picked up speed rushing down the runway and she felt the wheels lift.
Okay, oblivion may not be such a bad thing.
She cleared her throat and concentrated on the conversation. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to jump into your lap or anything.”
“That’s good to know,” he said as he dug her nails out of his arm.
“Sorry.” She smiled weakly, and, reclaiming her hand, she sought her own distraction in her carry-on. The first thing she pulled out was a plastic zip bag of home-baked chocolate chip cookies—nothing distracted or soothed as well as chocolate—and the second thing was the newest novel by one of her favorite authors. Rick had his paper so she didn’t need to feel bad about reading her book. And once she started reading, she’d get caught up in the characters, mystery and romance.
After tucking her tote back under the seat in front of her, she dug out a chocolate chip cookie. Taking a healthy bite, she settled back in her seat and sighed, feeling the tension leave her body as she chewed.
Next to her she heard Rick sniff the air. From the corner of her eye she saw him slowly turn in her direction.
“Are those chocolate chip cookies?”
“Yes. But you wouldn’t hold my hand so you can’t have any.”
“A tad cranky tonight, aren’t you?”
“It’s the nerves. I want to fix it, but I just have to get through it.” Because she wasn’t mean, she turned the open bag of cookies toward him. “Peace offering?”
He took a cookie. “You still can’t jump in my lap.”
She grinned. “Spoilsport.”
“But I suppose I can sacrifice a hand occasionally if you feel the need.”
Her insides warmed at the offer, evidence the grouch did have a heart. But, oh, not good. Warm feelings for Rick were too much of a distraction. She’d better stick to the chocolate.
“Thanks.” She held up a second cookie. “But I’m feeling better already.”
“Good. Because it’s a long flight. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?” He licked a smear of chocolate off his finger, a sensuous move she followed with her eyes.
This relaxed Rick fascinated her, which made him very dangerous indeed.
“Savannah?”
“Huh?”
“Do you think you’ll sleep?” he repeated.
“Oh. Eventually. I can sleep anywhere.” She zipped the bag of cookies and tucked it in the seat back in front of her. “How about you?”
“I’ll doze.”
“Maybe you need the Valium.”
He laughed. A hearty sound she realized she’d not heard from him before.
How sad, she’d worked closely with the man for close to two months and had never heard him laugh. She immediately wanted to make him laugh again. He really needed lightness in his life, but this was another thing she couldn’t fix, not without putting herself on the line emotionally, something she couldn’t risk. And it didn’t even have to do with the job.
She couldn’t risk opening her heart to a man obsessed with work.
The loneliness, the lack of support, the disappointments—she wouldn’t, couldn’t go through that again.
So, instead of continuing the conversation and coaxing another laugh from him, she said, “Do you mind if I read for a while? I think it’ll relax me.”
The laughter faded from his eyes and he shook his head. “Go ahead. Will it bother you if I work?”
“Not at all.”
With a curious sense of letdown, she lowered her tray table and opened the hardback to page one. Luckily, the characters soon drew her