Booty Call (Forbidden Bodyguards Book 2) (20 page)

Her eyes flared wide and her lips pulled together in a surprised O. “Thank you.”

Holding out her hand, she grasped one end of the silk, but he wasn’t ready to let it go, not when he’d just gotten her bright blue eyes pinned on his face. He liked them there, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “My flight is delayed.”

“Pardon?”

“I think they’re all delayed right now.”

“Yes.” She tugged on the scarf and he let it go. “Thanks again.”

“So I was going to get a beer and a burger, and if your flight is delayed as well, I’d be happy to buy you dinner.”

“Ah. No thank you.”

“No strings attached, promise. I’m flying home to San Diego tonight, and we’re under the watchful eye of the TSA. Sure I can’t keep you company? I know some good knock-knock jokes.”

— —
 

Emme knew when she was being hit on in the casual, just-for-fun kind of way. In her early days as a flight attendant, she’d indulged in this game more than once. But today wasn’t the day for fun. She couldn’t help but smile back at the tallest, broadest, sexiest man she’d ever seen and wish she’d dropped her scarf in front of him any other day but today. And maybe that he lived a hair closer than San Diego, a city she rarely flew into.

“Well, I do like a good kids’ joke, but I’m on standby for a flight that leaves in forty-five minutes, so I’ll have to pass.”

With a twinkle in his eye, he pointed to the display above their heads. “Not likely.”

In the few minutes it had taken her to get through security, all flights had been grounded. Damn it.

She knew what this meant. Not only would she not be getting a standby flight tonight, anywhere, but she’d probably get called in to work early tomorrow. And since she hadn’t fled the city fast enough, and she could use the money, she’d take the shift.

Fudgesicles.
With a sigh, she turned back toward security. “That’s my cue to head home to bed, then.”

“Alone?”
 

Even though he’d obviously meant the question as a light flirtation, the question slid under her skin painfully. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, wanting to yell at
someone
for her forced period of solitary over the last year. “Yes. Alone. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“That’s a shame.” This time he said it straight up, his dark brown eyes warm with apology, but also with something she hadn’t experienced in far too long—attraction aimed her way. An invitation. Like, if he wasn’t heading to San Diego, maybe he might actually like to spend a night in her bed.

And since she knew he probably wouldn’t be flying tonight, wouldn’t that be worth exploring?

But she couldn’t break her almost-two-year sex drought with someone as hot as he was. She’d need a few practice rounds before taking on a guy like… “What’s your name?”

He grinned, slow and sweet, like she’d just given him the moon. That was a nice touch, but a little too practiced. She held her hand up between them before he could answer.

“No, don’t tell me. Never mind.” Spinning around again, not entirely sure how he’d knocked her off her course to home, she refocused on the sensible path.

Apparently he wasn’t a fan of abrupt goodbyes. This time he didn’t use his words to turn her around, he just reached out and slid one of his big, strong hands around her forearm. Heat radiated through her light blazer, and as soon as he had her facing him again, he let go. Persistent, but not pushy. He walked that line with care.
 

He narrowed his eyes in thought, then nodded. “Okay, no names. I like that, gives a bit of mystery to the next few hours. I’ll call you Red, and you can—”

Emme laughed despite herself. “No. Never Red.”

“Shorty.”

Another giggle, and an unfamiliar warmth spread across her chest.
 
This was weirdly fun. “Ew, no.”

“Mystery Girl?”

Yeah, that would work. “You can call me M for Mystery.”

“M.” God, she liked the way he said her name, thinking it was just a letter. The trick jostled something inside her, spilling a drop of liquid desire in places she’d thought of as scorched earth. “And what should you call me?”

Sir
. She could feel her cheeks flush at the thought, and from the way his eyes danced at her, he maybe could guess where her mind had gone. That was okay. They were flirting.

Holy crap, she wanted to do a little jig. She was flirting with a cute boy. The weight of the last week—the last year—fell away, and she cocked her head to the side. “How about we grab that dinner you mentioned and figure that out together?”

— —
 

The redhead seemed to know her way around the terminal. She quickly settled them in a booth at a bar and grill, then busied herself with the menu.

Nathan let her hide for a minute before giving in to his base desire to see her eyes again. “So what else is off-limits? Can I ask where you were flying tonight?”

She blinked up at him, weighing the question for a minute before setting the menu aside. “Texas.”

He laughed. “Wow, top-secret information, eh?”

“San Antonio.”

“For absolutely no reason?”

“Pretty much.” She leaned back against her side of the booth. “Your turn to be totally forthcoming about something.”

“I’m going to San Diego.”

“That’s not new information.”

“Because I live there.”

“Neither is that.” She stuck her tongue out at him, an unexpectedly playful response, and he decided to give her something.

“I’m in the navy. Originally from Chicago, hence the visit here.”

“Cool.” She picked up her menu again, coyly this time, and slowly slid it in front of her face. He let her get it up to her eyes before tugging at the top and shifting it to the side. “Hey, I was reading that!”

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t your first or fifth time in this bar, and you know exactly what you want.” He slowed his words down, teasing her a bit, because until his plane took off, he’d be happy to give her whatever it was she wanted, any way she’d take it.

“Okay.” She set the menu down and crossed her hands in the middle of the table, seemingly oblivious to his double entendre. Nathan was struck with the strongest urge to touch her hands—long, slim fingers topped with neatly trimmed nails. Feminine but strong. He wanted to lace their fingers together, but he held himself back because she was so skittish. She rewarded him with a laughing grin. “I’m a flight attendant. Happy?”

“Very. If I play my cards right, maybe you’ll call me up the next time you’re in San Diego.”

A cloud drifted over her face, and he regretted saying too much.
 

“Hey, it’s okay. Are you… Is this a problem, us having dinner?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Nope, not at all. Other than it’s the first time I’ve done anything like this in a long time.”

“That sounds like it has a heavy story behind it.”

With a sigh, she blinked her eyes open, a determined look newly in place. “Not one that matters tonight. And…that’s all I can handle right now—just tonight, okay?”

“Sure.” He tapped the menu. “What’s good?”

Two club sandwiches and a shared order of fries later, he knew his mystery woman liked tomatoes but not pickles, was addicted to hate-watching reality shows, and she was the youngest of four—something they had in common. And she was still nameless.

“Okay, M.” He crumpled his napkin and tossed it onto his empty plate. “Time to nick-name me.”

As she appraised him from across the booth, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, and he found himself staring. Such a cliché, and he didn’t care. She had a damn pretty mouth.

“West Coast,” she started, and he frowned his disapproval, much to her obvious delight. “Big Guy. Gentle Giant. Little One.”

“No. Only in the bedroom. No. And absolutely never.”

“Is Sailor too obvious?” She blinked up at him as she asked, and her voice had dropped in a husky wave of words that gave him half a hard-on.

He cleared his throat, totally unnerved by how perfect the name sounded on her lips. “No, that’ll do.”

“So, Sailor.” From the pink of her cheeks, the nickname worked just as well for her. “What do you like to do for fun?”

KEEP READING NATHAN’S BOOK NOW!

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Copyright 2016 Ainsley Booth