Coburn would have been highly amused at the situation given his older brother had been born the one with all the self-control and discipline. The one who was not ruled by his emotions. But after a week with Francesca, he almost got why his brother had punted her to him for six months. She was temptation that didn’t know it was temptation. And that was the most tempting female of all.
The pilot’s voice intruded on his thoughts. “Hey, folks. We’re anticipating some rough weather ahead. I’m going to turn the seat-belt sign on in a few minutes for about an hour so if you’d like to use the restroom, now would be the time.”
A pinched look spread across Frankie’s face. “What kind of bad weather?” she asked the attendant as she came to offer them a drink before she sat down.
“A bit of lightning in the area. It could be rough for a while but no worries. Captain Danyon is the best.”
Frankie turned a greenish color and unbuckled her seat belt. “Are you okay?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Just going to do like the pilot said.”
When she came back, she had a set, determined look on her chalk-white face. They worked through the Aristov presentation. When the captain turned on the seat-belt sign and the bumps began, Frankie kept her gaze fixed on his computer screen and kept talking. As far as storms went, it was a good one. The tiny plane swooped on fast-moving air, then rose again, some of the plunges taking his breath away.
“We can stop,” he suggested. “Wait until it’s over...”
“Keep talking,” she commanded, clutching her seat with white-knuckled hands. “It’s keeping me from freaking out.”
He wasn’t sure how much she was taking in in her terrified state, but he kept going, working through the back end of the presentation. Forty-five minutes later, they’d finished it and were going through a checklist to make sure they hadn’t missed anything crucial.
“We haven’t included the most recent market stats,” Frankie announced, shuffling through her papers.
“They’re on the third slide.”
“Oh.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it. “Do we have that graphic in there, too? The one you asked me to fix and expand?”
“It’s in there.” He pulled his gaze away from her lush mouth to study her. She didn’t look as green as she had earlier, but now she was acting a bit...vague.
“Francesca, are you okay?”
“Perfect.” She forced a smile. “I think that’s it, then, isn’t it? I’ll make a note of any questions Aristov asks, although I don’t expect he’ll have any with this much information put in front of him. Oh—and I’ll bring the backup.”
The way she said that last part, as if it was a ‘nice to have,’ alarmed him. “Yes,” he said deliberately, “the backup is key. We can’t forget the backup.”
“No problem.” She rubbed her palm across her forehead. “Can we talk about the shareholder meetings now? I really need to get a handle on them.”
“If you’re a hundred percent clear on the meeting, yes.”
“A hunnndred percent, yes.” She nodded and tucked the folder in her briefcase and pulled out her notepad. “So for the shareholder thing...”
“Meetings,” he corrected. Had she just slurred that word? Or was she being funny?
“Right. The meetings... They cover the Monday and Tuesday, right? With the Wednesday afternoon kept for additional items that come up?”
“The Tuesday afternoons are for open items, yes. The meetings are over Tuesday night.”
She blinked at him. “That’s what I said. Tuesday.”
“You said Wednesday. It’s Tuesday for the open session. Here.” He pulled the schedule from her unopened folder. “Look at this.”
She studied it with the glazed-eyed look of someone who wasn’t taking anything in. “Got it.” A sigh escaped her. She put her elbows on the table and rubbed her eyes. “I’m so sorry. My head is very cloudy all of a sudden.”
A wave of guilt spread through him. “You’re probably exhausted. It’s been a long week.”
“Yes, but this...” She put her palms to her temples. “I think I might need to lie down.”
He pulled her hands away from her face. “You’re not feeling well?”
“I’m fine...it’s just—” Her bleary gaze skipped away from his. “I—I took a pill my sister gave me for the turbulence. It’s making me...”
“Where is it?”
“In my purse.”
He grabbed her bag off the seat, opened it up and plucked the pill bottle off the top. Scanning the label he saw it was a sedative.
“Have you taken these before?”
“No. I didn’t think they’d hit me this hard.” She plopped her chin in her palms, elbows braced on the table, and closed her eyes. “Maybe it’ll wear off in a few minutes. Maybe I should have some coffee.”
“How many did you take?”
“Just one. But I feel...light-headed.”
He uttered a low curse. “It’s going to last for hours. You need to lie down.”
“I’d rather have some coffee.”
He stripped off his seat belt, rounded the table and undid hers. Her eyes half opened. “The seat-belt sign is—”
“Shut up.” He slipped his arms underneath her knees and back and lifted her up. She was surprisingly light for a female with her curves, and it should have been an easy carry to the bedroom at the back of the jet, but the plane was dipping and swaying beneath his feet and it was all he could do to keep his balance. Her fingers dug into his biceps with a strength born of fear, her body trembling in his arms.
He kept her braced against his chest as he negotiated the door handle to the bedroom, shouldered himself in and deposited her on the bed with a lucky move that brought him down hard beside her. The jet dropped, this time a good fifty feet, pulling a low, agonized cry from Francesca. He kept a hand on her, his body half draped over her. The jet leveled out. “Swallow,” he commanded.
Her throat convulsed as she did. “This is soooo not good.”
“It’s just turbulence.” He recovered his own breath.
“Still.” Her eyes popped open, valiantly hanging on to her terror. “Donnn’t leave me.”
“I can’t at this moment.” He gave the sky a grim look through the tiny, oval windows. It was an inky, endless black canvas crisscrossed by vibrant streaks of jagged gold lightning.
Francesca pulled him toward her as if he was a pillow. He put a palm to her shoulder to push her back into the bed. A whimper escaped her throat. “Please.”
He crumbled. Gathered her soft curves to him and held her while the storm raged on outside. She smelled like orange blossoms—like intoxication and innocence all in one. The plane leveled out and stayed that way for minutes. In the warmth of his arms, Francesca stopped trembling. He tried to remember the last time he’d held a woman like this, for comfort, and didn’t have to think long. It would have been seven years ago when Susanna had left.
The thought did something strange to his head. He glanced