8

The car that Evan had sent to collect Celia pulled up to the plane parked on the paved landing area that led to the single runway and stopped just a few feet from where the door to the jet lay open.

Celia looked out the window to see Evan standing a short distance away. He was waiting for her.

The driver opened her door, and she stepped into the afternoon sun. She blinked a few times then pulled her shades from her head over her eyes. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so obvious how she ate Evan up with her gaze.

He was dressed casually. Jeans, polo shirt and loafers. She’d only ever seen him in suits, and she hadn’t imagined he could look better. She was wrong. So, so wrong.

The jeans cupped him in all the right places. They clung to his thighs, rounded his butt and molded to his groin. They weren’t new, starchy-looking jeans, either. They were faded and worn, just like a good pair of jeans should be.

“Celia,” he said with a nod as she approached. “If you’re ready, we can be on our way.”

“I