Ronan’s pulse picked up and he stroked himself more firmly.
Her breasts were large; they’d fill each hand and maybe then some. She had a sweet smile, too. She’d been nervous today, he could see that, but also determined to stand her ground and exceptionally proud of her achievements. He got the impression she was shy and not very confident around men—unlike that assistant of hers, she’d not once even attempted to flirt with him. And when he’d taken off his jacket and tie, he’d been sure she had blushed.
He could just imagine the blush on her face, that sweet smile, looking up at him as he touched her, as he moved over her, as he took her body, when she—
Ronan swore, released himself and flopped back on the pillows in disgust.
Hadn’t the experience with Sarah Forsythe taught him anything? Was his father’s impression of him right? Was he a player who could never take anything seriously?
Fantasizing about Cassie Hartman was about as wrong as it was possible to get. The very last thing he could afford on this job was another romantic entanglement with the client.
She probably had a boyfriend, he told himself. That was why she didn’t flirt. It didn’t matter anyway—she was so far off-limits she might as well be a nun.
Thinking about Sarah and the situation he was in was enough to kill any arousal. He’d just have to lie there until the alarm sounded. If necessary, he’d sleep on the plane.
He yawned.
This was going to be one damned long week.
CASSIE’S INSTINCTIVE RESPONSE to flying was filed under T for torture. But a career that often demanded her presence interstate meant she’d had to reconcile herself to filing it under N for necessary evil instead. If there was any way she could avoid stepping on another plane in her life, she’d take it.
It wasn’t that she was scared, exactly. No, terrified would probably be a more apt description. A shame, since she was sure her enthusiastic amateur-pilot father was looking down at her and shaking his head sadly at her phobia. He’d done his best to instill his own love of flying in her and she’d adored pretending to be his copilot—until the accident that had given her a fear of anything that went faster than her zippy, if dated, little hatchback.
It was mainly the takeoff and landing that were the problem. Once she was up in the air, she was better. As long as there were no bumps. Or strange noises. And God forbid that the cabin crew look nervous in any way.
But she couldn’t afford to let Ronan McGuire see it. It wasn’t a weakness that affected her ability to manage Country Style, but it was still a weakness. Cassie was determined not to let him see anything other than the person who was the obvious choice for leading the business into a new realm of success.
Calm. Control. The words had become her mantra.
“Are you a nervous flyer?”
Damn. Those blue eyes peered at her as they fastened their seat belts. Since they’d met in the airport, conversation had been restrained and polite. He’d seemed distracted and had opened up his laptop as soon as they’d been settled in the lounge. Cassie had done the same—she had plenty to keep her busy, anyway. There was still a great deal of work to do to finalize the details for the store opening on Monday.
“No, I’m…fine,” Cassie replied, trying for a relaxed smile.
Ronan nodded, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
He was laughing at her! Get a grip, Cassie. She peeled her fingers from the armrest and folded them neatly in her lap, wishing she’d thought to bring a book with her so she could sit there and pretend to read. Even better would have been a set of those massive, noise-canceling headphones, so she could block out the plane and Ronan’s annoyingly seductive voice. Leaning forward, she scrambled in the seat pocket in front of her for the airline magazine and stared blankly at a random page, figuring it was better than nothing.
She heard a low chuckle beside her.
With a blush heating her cheeks, Cassie turned the magazine the right way up and studied the article about resorts in Bali as if her life depended on it. The safety demonstration started and she half watched from behind the magazine—usually she paid rapt attention, but again, she didn’t want to give away her nerves to her seatmate.
As the plane’s engines fired up for takeoff, Cassie couldn’t help the panic that rose inside her. Memories threatened to overwhelm her, of the time when flying had been exciting, the little tilts and loops of a plane thrilling, her father at the wheel, turning to grin at her in shared exhilaration. That had been before. Before life had changed permanently.
She closed her eyes as the wheels left the ground, her teeth gritted as the plane dipped and righted itself. Then the wind caught them. The plane veered sideways, leaving her stomach somewhere near her throat. Cassie’s hand shot out, reaching for the armrest, and she twisted her feet around the seat in front of her as makeshift anchors. The magazine fell with a rustle of pages to the floor.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
Instead of cold metal, her hand met warm flesh. Fingers that interlaced with hers and held on tightly. Reassuringly.
“It’s just a little turbulence.”
Yeah, that’s probably what they said before every plane fell out of the sky.
“It’ll even out as soon as we get higher.” Ronan’s voice was low and gentle, that accent of his reassuring.
The plane dipped again. Cassie screwed her eyes shut even tighter and squeezed his hand hard enough to make her knuckles ache. Blood pounded in her ears and her calves began to cramp from her ankles’ awkward grip.
“Breathe. In and out.”
She made an effort to take in some air.
“That’s better. See? We’re smoothing out now. Nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about? This was the worst flight she’d ever been on. Surely when she opened her eyes there’d be chaos, people screaming, children crying, panicked flight attendants running down the aisles.
She cracked an eye. Everything looked…normal.
The businessman across the aisle nonchalantly turned the page of his newspaper. The child in the seat in front of her yawned and dropped his half-chewed apple on the floor. The women behind them continued to talk about the shoe and handbag shopping they’d done in Melbourne’s famous laneways.
Cassie sucked in a deep breath and opened both eyes.
The breath froze in her lungs.
Ronan McGuire was twisted in his seat, his face just inches from hers. He clasped her hand in both of his, stroking the inside of her wrist with one thumb, seemingly unconcerned by the death grip she had on him. He was peering at her, and those calculating blue eyes of his were filled with concern and compassion and—around the edges—amusement.
As her eyes met his, a slow smile spread across his face. “So you don’t like flying much, huh?”
Cassie swallowed hard and had to force her voice not to waver. “It’s…it’s not my favorite activity.” His research clearly hadn’t covered her family background.
“And you’ve signed us up for a week of travel?”
That devastating single arched eyebrow again. Thankfully this time Cassie was too wound up to let it affect her. Much.
“I’ve never let my little problem interfere with my job.” Cassie bristled at the insinuation and it helped to dampen her fear. The plane had leveled out and a loud ding sounded as the seat-belt sign went off.
Ronan’s thumb was still stroking the inside of her wrist. It had been comforting before, now it was…now it was…
She loosened her fingers from around