trickled down her spine. Sweet zombie Jesus, she liked this. It was dangerous. Exciting. It was making her wet. “I know.”
He reached for the bottle of wine and topped off their glasses, though she’d barely touched hers. “We’ve still got a couple of hours till we get to San Diego,” he said. “Let’s get to know each other better.”
Now that was almost scarier than the flirting. “Sure,” she said, setting down the fork.
“Are you done with dessert?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “It was amazing, but I am so full.”
“Let me take these things into the galley.”
“You seem pretty at home in this little plane.”
He grinned. “Yeah.”
He took his seat and fastened his seat belt again. He’d gotten rid of his suit jacket with his coat when they’d boarded and now one hand went to the other wrist to unfasten his cuff. He turned the cuff back a couple of times carelessly then did the same on the other arm. She watched in fascination. His hands were big, his fingers long and lean, dusted with masculine dark hair, with neat nails. His forearms too had silky-looking dark hair layered over sinewy muscles.
Her gaze moved up to his chest and shoulders, the soft fabric of his shirt draping with perfect grace over his big frame.
“How do you stay in shape?” she asked. “You don’t keep all those muscles sitting behind a desk all day.”
He gave her a wicked grin, one eyebrow arched. “Checking me out, babe?”
“I’m making conversation. You said we were going to get to know each other better.”
“True that. Okay. I box.”
She blinked. “What? Box?”
“Yeah. You know…in a ring. With gloves.” He did a series of fast jabbing punches in the air.
“Why am I not surprised that you’re into such an aggressive, violent sport.”
He burst out laughing. “It’s not violent.”
“Of course it is! It’s beating people up.”
“It’s sparring, not beating them up. The people I spar with are trained and wear the same gear I do; it’s not like I’m pounding on some dude walking down the street.” A muscle twitched in his jaw when he said that.
She pictured him bare-chested, all sweaty muscles and damp hair, dancing in a boxing ring and pummeling some other guy. Weirdly, that was hot. Very hot.
“What do you do to keep in shape?” He picked up his glass of wine and lifted his chin. “Oh wait. Hip-hop.”
“Yeah. I’m not that great at it. Mallory’s good, she’s a dancer.”
“A dancer?”
“Not that kind of dancer.” She chuckled. “She took ballet for years when she was a kid. She even danced competitively.”
“What else?”
“Uh…that’s it.” She made a face. “I know I should do more. I keep thinking that one day I’ll be more settled in my business and have time on my hands and I’ll join a gym or something.”
He gave her a sexy perusal that made her blood run hot again. “You look like you’re in good shape.”
“Thanks.” The word came out breathy.
“So your workouts consist of hip-hop class with Mallory. I gather you don’t play any sports.”
“Nope.”
“Like to watch?”
She blinked.
“Sports,” he clarified, lips twitching.
“Yeah, sure. Not baseball. That’s about as exciting as watching a turkey thaw. I like football and hockey.”
“And you complained about boxing being violent?”
“Well, occasionally a hockey game does break out between fights—” He gave a surprised bark of laughter and she smiled in response. “But boxing is just one big fight. Right?”
“Right. You go to Blackhawks games?”
“Sometimes. Tickets can be pricey and I don’t have a lot of cash to throw around.”
“You’ll come with me. Next game.”
“You have season tickets?”
“I have a suite.”
She gave a brief eye-roll. “Of course you do. Duh.”
He grinned.
“Well, we’ll see. After this weekend you may never want to see me again.”
His eyebrows snapped together. “Why would you say that?”
“Raff. All flirting
He reached for the bottle of wine and topped off their glasses, though she’d barely touched hers. “We’ve still got a couple of hours till we get to San Diego,” he said. “Let’s get to know each other better.”
Now that was almost scarier than the flirting. “Sure,” she said, setting down the fork.
“Are you done with dessert?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “It was amazing, but I am so full.”
“Let me take these things into the galley.”
“You seem pretty at home in this little plane.”
He grinned. “Yeah.”
He took his seat and fastened his seat belt again. He’d gotten rid of his suit jacket with his coat when they’d boarded and now one hand went to the other wrist to unfasten his cuff. He turned the cuff back a couple of times carelessly then did the same on the other arm. She watched in fascination. His hands were big, his fingers long and lean, dusted with masculine dark hair, with neat nails. His forearms too had silky-looking dark hair layered over sinewy muscles.
Her gaze moved up to his chest and shoulders, the soft fabric of his shirt draping with perfect grace over his big frame.
“How do you stay in shape?” she asked. “You don’t keep all those muscles sitting behind a desk all day.”
He gave her a wicked grin, one eyebrow arched. “Checking me out, babe?”
“I’m making conversation. You said we were going to get to know each other better.”
“True that. Okay. I box.”
She blinked. “What? Box?”
“Yeah. You know…in a ring. With gloves.” He did a series of fast jabbing punches in the air.
“Why am I not surprised that you’re into such an aggressive, violent sport.”
He burst out laughing. “It’s not violent.”
“Of course it is! It’s beating people up.”
“It’s sparring, not beating them up. The people I spar with are trained and wear the same gear I do; it’s not like I’m pounding on some dude walking down the street.” A muscle twitched in his jaw when he said that.
She pictured him bare-chested, all sweaty muscles and damp hair, dancing in a boxing ring and pummeling some other guy. Weirdly, that was hot. Very hot.
“What do you do to keep in shape?” He picked up his glass of wine and lifted his chin. “Oh wait. Hip-hop.”
“Yeah. I’m not that great at it. Mallory’s good, she’s a dancer.”
“A dancer?”
“Not that kind of dancer.” She chuckled. “She took ballet for years when she was a kid. She even danced competitively.”
“What else?”
“Uh…that’s it.” She made a face. “I know I should do more. I keep thinking that one day I’ll be more settled in my business and have time on my hands and I’ll join a gym or something.”
He gave her a sexy perusal that made her blood run hot again. “You look like you’re in good shape.”
“Thanks.” The word came out breathy.
“So your workouts consist of hip-hop class with Mallory. I gather you don’t play any sports.”
“Nope.”
“Like to watch?”
She blinked.
“Sports,” he clarified, lips twitching.
“Yeah, sure. Not baseball. That’s about as exciting as watching a turkey thaw. I like football and hockey.”
“And you complained about boxing being violent?”
“Well, occasionally a hockey game does break out between fights—” He gave a surprised bark of laughter and she smiled in response. “But boxing is just one big fight. Right?”
“Right. You go to Blackhawks games?”
“Sometimes. Tickets can be pricey and I don’t have a lot of cash to throw around.”
“You’ll come with me. Next game.”
“You have season tickets?”
“I have a suite.”
She gave a brief eye-roll. “Of course you do. Duh.”
He grinned.
“Well, we’ll see. After this weekend you may never want to see me again.”
His eyebrows snapped together. “Why would you say that?”
“Raff. All flirting
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