“Please say that you’re joking,” Sofia moaned. She had already had her bags unloaded from her sister’s car and Rachel had already taken off.
The pretty, plus-size woman behind the counter fluttered a sympathetic smile at her. “No. I’m sorry. And we’re all booked up. Everyone is trying to get to the awards ceremony for the weekend.”
“I know. That’s where I need to get to.” She let out a sigh and then tried to rein in her mounting frustration. If she got her hands on Stewart, he was a dead man. “There has to be something we can do. The chances of me getting out of LAX today will be close to impossible.”
“I don’t know, ma’am. Like I said, every flight is completely booked.
“Are you sure? There has to be some room. I can sit in the back with the stewardess. Hell, I can be a stewardess. Anyone want some time off? How hard can it be to serve drinks?”
Still shaking her head, the lone booking agent held firm.
“I don’t believe this,” Sofia said, jerking away from the counter only to come face to face with a smiling Ramell, dressed casual in a pair of black jeans and a white short sleeved top. Instantly, Sofia’s gaze zeroed in on his arm’s bulging bronze muscles. What Ram looked like in a suit versus what he looked like dressed down were two totally different animals; this one much more dangerous to her peace of mind.
When her eyes shifted across the wide span of his chest, her hand started twitching at her side. She had a sudden curiosity of what it would feel like to run her fingers across it or even lay her head against it.
Ram cleared his throat and Sofia’s gaze jumped up to his mirrored aviator sunglasses. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
“No,” Sofia lied.
“Yes,” the woman behind the counter contradicted. “Ms. Wellesley is looking for a flight to Las Vegas. Unfortunately, we’re all booked up.”
“Oh, is that right?” Ram’s smile stretched wider. “If you’re looking to hitch a ride, you’re more than welcome to ride shotgun with me.”
She hesitated.
“It’s not a private jet. It’s just my own personal plane.”
“What? You’re a pilot?”
He chuckled. “I got my pilot license before my driver’s license.”
“I think I’ll pass,” she said and then tapped her ear to place a call. “Stewart, I need a car.”
Ram shrugged his big shoulders. “All right. Suit yourself.” He turned and started for the hangar.
“You know what, Stewart. Just give me the number. I’ll call them. You just call the airline and—scratch that—get me the number and I’ll call them, too.” She asked for a pen from the frowning woman behind the desk and jotted the numbers down. “Thank you.” She tapped her ear and pulled out her phone to start dialing.
“Excuse me,” the counter girl said, interrupting her.
“Yes.”
“Let me get this straight. You’d rather call and wait for a car to come get you so you can fight traffic over to LAX where you’ll wait for a flight that may or may not be available to Las Vegas rather than just get on the plane that’s right there in the hangar and can have you in Las Vegas in less than an hour?”
Sofia opened her mouth to confirm that was exactly what she preferred to do when the ridiculousness of such a response hit her. She was a busy woman with a million things to do before Sunday night’s award show and she was about to throw away a whole day just because she didn’t want to be on a plane with Ramell.
“I think I see your point,” Sofia acquiesced. She handed the woman back her pen and then rushed out of the hub. “Ramell! Ramell!” Sofia raced as fast as she could in heels. “Did anyone see where Ramell Jordan ran off to?”
A few of the guys in the hangar just looked up and smiled as she darted by. When she finally spotted Ram strolling casually toward a white and red single-engine plane, she sped up, screaming his name. “Ramell, wait!”
“Seems like I’ve been doing that half my damn life,” he mumbled under his breath before he forced on a smile and turned around. “Yes? What can I not help you with now?”
Sofia pulled up, out of breath, which once again drew Ram’s attention to her heaving breasts. Good thing his eyes were hidden behind his shades or he would’ve really embarrassed himself.
“About that, um, flight…?”
“Yes? What about it?” He was not going to make this easy for her.
“Well, I was thinking…” She smiled. “Since you’re here and I’m here…?”
Ram folded his arms. “Yeah?”
“Well…I guess it would be pretty silly of me to try to book a commercial flight and fight traffic and whatnot.”
“That sort of crossed my mind, too. Well, I actually thought it was more like ridiculous…childish…juvenile.”
“All right, all right. I get the picture.” She frowned. “So can I hop a ride or not?”
It was definitely her attitude that rubbed Ramell the wrong way so he said, “No,” before he turned away and continued toward the plane.
“No?” she echoed and then had to chase back after him again. “What do you mean ‘no’? You just offered me a ride back there in the hub.”
“That was then. This is now.” He reached the door of his beloved plane and pulled it open.
Sofia huffed out a frustrated breath. “What’s the difference between now and then?”
Ram tossed in his lone overnight bag and turned to face her. “Back then I sort of felt sorry for you. Now—not so much.”
“W-what?” she sputtered.
Taking a deep breath, Ram crossed his arms. “Has anyone ever told you that you really have a nasty attitude?”
She blinked.
“Well, it can’t be towards everyone, I suppose. Seems that most people I talk to actually like you. Your clients and studio executives—they all rave about your work and your professionalism. So that must mean this frosty routine is designed just for me. Though I can’t imagine why. I’ve never been anything but nice to you.”
Sofia’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about to become a sermon?”
Ram pulled in a deep breath, shook his head and turned away from her. “Goodbye, Sofia. Undoubtedly, I’ll see you in Vegas.” When he started to climb up into the cab of the plane, Sofia panicked and grabbed him by the arm.
“Wait!”
Carefully removing his shades, Ram turned his head and looked down at the slim fingers that were clutching his biceps.
Sofia tried to swallow what felt like a sharp-edged rock in the center of her throat while an intense wattage of electricity singed through her fingertips she could practically see the fine hairs on her arm stand up.
“Do you mind?” he asked.
His warm baritone managed to break whatever weird trance she’d fallen into, but just barely. “All right.” She lowered her hand and forced on a smile, but Ram just frowned and stared at her suspiciously. “You’re right. I’ve been a little…”
“Bitchy,” he supplied.
“Short,” she corrected. “I was going to say short around you.”
He rolled his eyes and waited for her to finish.