A Bride For The Holidays. Renee Roszel

      “Yes, sir.”

      They walked toward the plane. A few flakes of snow cavorted in the spotlights’ glow. “What does the weather look like?”

      “We have a few low clouds, but we’ll be above the weather shortly after takeoff, so I anticipate a smooth flight.”

      “Good.”

      When they reached the jet, the pilot stepped back to allow Lassiter to climb the four steps into the forward section of the passenger area. He entered just behind a mahogany-paneled bulkhead, the food and drink compartments separating the cockpit from the remainder of the plane.

      Since the only other person in the passenger section was Trisha August, Lassiter found her immediately. She no longer wore her coat. Apparently the copilot had taken it upon himself to hang it in the rear closet. And why not? He was a young, attractive man and Miss August was also young and attractive. Though the aviator would know better than to trifle with a woman who, for whatever reason, was a guest of Lassiter’s, he would be anxious to please.

      Trisha sat in one of the white, leather bucket seats three-quarters of the way back in the twelve passenger jet, the fifth of six seats on the opposite side of the cabin. Lassiter found that amusing. It was as though she assumed she must sit in “coach.”

      “Miss August,” he said, straightening after ducking through the entryway. “You needn’t sit back there. All the seats cost the same.”

      She looked up, seeming startled to see him, which was a ridiculous assumption for him to jump to. She knew he would be there. Perhaps she was nervous. That would be understandable. Many people had a fear of flying. He approached her along the narrow aisle between leather seats, elevated on a platform a foot above the walkway. “If you’re afraid to fly, don’t worry. My pilots are very conservative. When the weather isn’t optimal, they won’t fly.”

      She smiled, a charming sight. “Oh—I’m not afraid.” It was at that moment Lassiter noticed a white, furry creature, curled in her lap. “I was talking to Perrier. She’s a little fidgety. She’s never been on an airplane.”

      Lassiter had difficulty believing his eyes. “You brought a dog?” It came out sounding more like an accusation than he intended.

      She stroked the animal’s back. Her smile disappeared, disquiet taking its place. “Yes. I—I hope you don’t mind, but…” She cuddled it to her breast as though fearing he might wrench it from her hands and toss it into a snowbank. “I rescued her from the side of a road when she was a puppy. We’ve never been separated overnight. She’s only eight pounds and very well-behaved. She won’t be any bother.”

      Lassiter experienced a surge of aggravation. He’d never been able to understand the strange attachment people had for their pets. It seemed foolishly sentimental to lavish devotion on a dumb animal, but if she had to have the beast, it made little difference to their plan. Eyeing the dog severely, he had a thought. A dog could add a homey touch for the magazine article.

      His annoyance ebbed. Now that he saw her pet as an asset, he wanted to ease her concern, and leaned forward to stroke the small, kinky-curly head. “Had you asked to bring the dog, my first reaction would have been negative, but I’ve decided it can be an advantage. Lots of people like dogs. Odds are, some animal lovers out there could be so taken with your mutt, they’ll decide to come to me with business ventures.”

      Trisha didn’t speak for a moment, her expression going skeptical. “Oh?” she finally said. “Well, I’m gratified my dog works for you.” Her tone was hard-edged. “Maybe we should rent a couple of children. I’ve heard people like them, too.”

      He straightened, taken aback by her sarcasm. “I think a dog is enough.”

      He wasn’t accustomed to nervy retorts, especially from subordinates. Of course, this was an unusual case. She wasn’t an employee. For the next ten days, Trisha August would play his wife. Rather than find her insubordination annoying, he found it oddly stimulating. He only hoped he didn’t find her too stimulating. He’d made her a promise about that.

      “What did you do about your job?”

      She remained sober. “Ed knew I was applying for a loan to start my own business, so he knew I might be leaving at a moment’s notice. His nephew needed a job, so it’s taken care of.”