And the fact that I just thought of my electron microscope as a guy proves I need this break!
Carly ran her fingers from her forehead down to her temple then gave a quick tug on her hair. That’s how she thought of it—as her hair—even though it was actually a wig. And sitting beside the world’s hottest guy—single, from the looks of his empty ring finger—she wanted to be certain everything was in place. He would never suspect that she’d lost all her real hair during her twenties as a result of having alopecia.
Carly now wore wigs in a variety of styles and colors, making no effort to conceal the fact of her hair loss from the people she interacted with every day. Hand tied, with a lace front that made the edge disappear, the wigs were undetectable, even closeup, and so secure she could put her hair in a ponytail if she wanted. But wigs like that didn’t come cheap. The five she owned averaged about $2500 each. She couldn’t wait until she was out of grad school and making enough money to add to her collection.
As the plane taxied toward the runway, the flight attendant called for attention. “If everyone will watch me, I’ll show you exactly how to operate a seatbelt, on the off chance that none of you have ever ridden in a car.”
Everyone chuckled, except her seatmate, who furrowed his brows and typed even faster. Had he missed it or was he a grouch?
My luck, he’ll turn out to be Mr. Grumpy Pants.
Carly was glad she’d chosen her red bob, the one that made her the spitting image of pop star Faye Fortune. It couldn’t hurt to look like the famous singer when she was attempting to catch the attention of Mr. I’m-Hot-But-Busy-Typing. Of course, she’d brought her tame brunette wig for when she was speaking. She preferred that any attention from her presentation would be directed at her research, rather than her looks. But she would have three whole days to herself before the conference even started. She always preferred to be by herself this time of year. And the chance to see fall colors for the first time in her life was an added bonus.
Though currently, the scenery is better from where I’m sitting.
“Here you are, ma’am.” The flight attendant, whose name tag identified her as Layla, delivered a can of ginger ale, along with ice, in a real glass. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like—”
“Faye Fortune?” Carly smiled. “Sure. I’ve even posed for selfies before.”
“Oh! If you don’t mind posing, that would be fun.” Layla pointed to another attendant. “Simon would love it, too.”
“No problem.”
Layla turned her attention to Hot Guy, and her cheeks flushed. Her hands smoothed the front of her uniform. “I hate to bother you, sir, but you’ll need to put away your laptop until we’re in the air.”
“I will.” He nodded and typed even faster. “Almost finished.”
The attendant didn’t move, probably gawking at the masculine scruff along his broad jaw the same way Carly was. “I’m sorry, sir, but...”
“Just twenty more seconds?” He graced her with the briefest of glances, but it was enough to heighten her blush.
“Okay.” She leaned over me and lowered her voice. “But you’ll have to make it up to me.”
Was she outright flirting now? Didn’t she realize this guy wasn’t the type to respond to such brazen tactics?
“You can count on it.” He must’ve glanced at her name tag. “Layla.”
Shameless flirtation worked! Maybe I should try it.
Fanning herself, the flight attendant left. Carly felt the same heat and reached to open her overhead vent.
She couldn’t resist the urge to peek at his laptop screen. He appeared to be writing an email. He added an attachment, then hit Send. Head still down, his chest expanded with a deep breath. Evidently done with his task, he closed his laptop and tucked it in the bag by his feet, sliding it forward just as the plane turned onto the runway.
Then he ripped off his tight pullover, leaving behind an even tighter short-sleeved T-shirt stretched over the bulging muscles in his arms. This resulted in another spike in her internal temperature. Since he still wasn’t looking, she pulled the neck of her shirt out to let some air in. She might’ve cooled off more if she’d simply quit ogling him, but that wasn’t likely to happen.
He must’ve felt her gaze, because he spoke to her. “Hard to believe it’ll be in the twenties when we land in Chicago, considering how hot it is here in Houston.”
He stretched his arm above him to adjust his air vent, providing a delightful view of his well-formed biceps. Carly found herself grateful for the crazy heatwave that gave him the incentive to strip off his outer layer.
“I’ve never seen it get this hot here in mid-October.” Considering the current state of her brain, she was pleased to have put together a relatively intelligent sentence.
The engines roared and surged forward, pressing her against the seat back as the plane accelerated then lifted into the air.
He folded the pullover in his lap. “Are you going to Chicago for business or pleasure?”
For the first time, he turned his face to look directly at her, and her heart stopped beating.
It’s Liam Bennett! No, it can’t be!
She forced her mouth closed and attempted to swallow, impossible with her mouth full of cotton balls.
“Both.” Her word came out like a wheeze.
Averting her face, her mind raced. It couldn’t really be Liam, could it? He’d been sixteen the last time she’d seen him, a junior at Highland Park High School in Dallas. She wouldn’t recognize him after all this time, would she? But what if it was him? She couldn’t let him figure out who she was.
“Are you nervous about flying?” He nodded to her hands, the knuckles white where she gripped the armrests.
She loosened her fingers, her eyes darting to his and back. “No... I mean, yes... I mean, just the takeoff.”
Drat! I should’ve said I was nervous about the entire flight. It would’ve given me an excuse to sit here with my hands over my face.
She ducked her chin but stole a quick peek when he didn’t appear to be watching. On second glance, the man didn’t look that much like the Liam she remembered.
She grabbed the airline magazine from the seat pocket in front of her and flipped through it, keeping her face turned away. But then she felt the heat of his gaze.
“You remind me of someone,” he said. “You look so familiar.”
“It must be Faye Fortune. Everyone tells me I look like her.”
