Silly Landon. You’re a stuck duck.
But the conditions couldn’t be better. I shift on the plush seat that’s cocooning me in a cozy hug. The material is softer than melted butter. There’s no funky odor trapped in the cushions from too many travelers. The recycled air smells too crisp and clean. Every surface sparkles as morning light filters through the small windows. A mimosa appears on the table as if conjured by magic. I don’t know how the lady managed to set down the glass without me noticing. It’s all just so… fancy. I’m not a stranger to witnessing the benefits of money, but this is an entirely separate scale. Being surrounded by such opulent luxury makes my skin prickle. I’m afraid to get the freaking carpet dirty.
Landon is busy tapping away at his laptop, happily ignoring my presence. His purpose for this trip has yet to be revealed. I’m almost convinced he just wants to contain me by any feasible means. I’ll admit that tingling temptation is urging me to jump on his lap and take a detour to Pleasure Valley. He’d probably be more than willing after our rendezvous yesterday. I’ve never been a self-deprecating kind of girl, though. Sexy and a damn good kisser he might be, but that doesn’t mean I should sleep with him. The pleasure he’s capable of delivering is difficult to deny. Our chemistry might as well be sparking between us, begging for an outlet.
I twirl my champagne flute, watching bubbles fizz in the orange juice. We haven’t discussed the tonsil hockey incident. Landon seems content to pretend it didn’t happen. Not that I’m overly shocked that he’d prefer to forget the moments his guard fell away and passion flowed freely from him. He’s packing loads of pent-up lust among the baggage I can’t begin to weigh.
The guy is emotionally stunted. Whether on purpose as a defense mechanism or engrained by his upbringing, pulling genuine feelings from him is proving to be challenging. He’s a vault—and not a cheap knockoff I can find at Fleet Farm. No, this guy is top of the line. All tough steel and impenetrable force. Burglars would run the other way after catching sight of his complicated locking mechanisms.
I wasn’t lying about a rock being more open to conveying expressions. Hot or cold seem to be Landon’s standard settings, unless provoked with a topic strong enough to slice through his impassive surface. Sucking his face did the trick, but so did bringing up the woman who did him wrong. The obvious choice is to go with the lesser of two evils. I’ll build to that point. Otherwise, the entire flight will be ruined in five minutes.
“This is how the upper crust travel, huh?”
Landon’s gaze remains fastened on his computer. “Is the jet to your liking?”
I snort into my citrus-laced Cristal—yes, the attendant presented the label prior to pouring. “Is that a serious question?”
“Of course,” he replies.
“What if I say no? Do you have another private plane we can switch this one out for?”
His nod is subtle. “I do.”
I suck in a deep breath, whistling from the effort. “Wow, that’s excessive.”
“I travel very frequently, Savannah.” For once, his excuse is valid. “Plus, it makes vacations convenient.”
“Do you even know what that is? I have a hard time believing you take days off work.” I narrow my eyes on his stupidly handsome face.
He has yet to look at me. “You’d be correct.”
I’m determined to pester him until he cracks, or at least gives me the courtesy of eye contact. “Where would you go?”
The strain in his posture is impossible to miss. “It’s perfectly acceptable to sit in silence.”
And let him off the hook after making a dent? Yeah, right. “Not for me.”
“Don’t you have a job that requires doing?”
I sit forward, resting an elbow on my knee. “You bring up a great point. What will I be doing while in your beloved city?”
The clicking from Landon’s typing is stabbing into my skull. “I expect you’ll find vacant buildings for sale, or finish our current contracts. Maybe you’ll provide me with adequate research on the areas we’re looking to establish new locations.”
“I could do that from Minneapolis.”
“This way I won’t have random strangers storming into my office, posing as prostitutes.”
“Are you still salty about that?”
He still doesn’t take his eyes off the screen in front of him. “Very.”
Pressure builds at the base of my neck as I continue slamming into his iron wall. He’s a tough nut. I’ll give him credit for that. My nails make a ticking noise of their own while I dance my fingers against the armrest. A deep furrow appears between Landon’s brows.
I tilt my head and squint at him. “You need to loosen up.”
A muscle leaps at the hinge in his jaw. “That’s what I was attempting to do until you interrupted with this incessant chatter.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to engage you in active conversation.”
He abandons his work with a grunt. “You’re incorrigible.”
“It’s entirely your fault for inviting me.” I smile wide while fluttering my lashes. “And I use that term very loosely.”
Landon relaxes enough to recline in his chair. “What would you like to discuss?”
“You kissed me,” I blurt.
He quirks a brow. “I could say the same to you.”
“Are we just going to cover that up like an illicit affair?”
“Is that what you’d prefer?”
“I haven’t decided.” I’m still caught up in unraveling his plot against me. There’s no chance I believe he’s dropping the asshole act where I’m concerned.
He trails a hand along his smooth cheek. “Well, I have every intention of savoring a repeat performance when we’re in a more suitable location.”
I glance around the empty cabin. “It doesn’t get more private than this.”
Why am I encouraging him?
A rumble rolls from the back of his throat. “We won’t be stopping with just a kiss, sugar.”
“You’re so confident I’m interested in that.”
“Aren’t you?” The ravenous gleam in his gaze almost makes my stomach growl.
He’s doing a damn good job turning my body against me. Keeping my legs from squirming is a mighty feat. The warmth pooling in my lower belly is horribly inconvenient. My defenses stretch from the sidelines, ready to get in the game.
“Tell me about the girl.” If only the quake would leave my voice.
His scoff is heaping with disappointment. “She’s no one, Savannah. You can stop prying.”
A man like Landon Winters doesn’t obliterate his collective calm unless there’s a valid explanation. “I’m not buying that.”
“And I’m not talking about her.” His shrug is lazy, but an underlying strain trembles at the edges.
“Oh, my. Does the fierce Lannie have emotions after all?”
“Nice try,” he spits. Then he drags a palm down his tie, inhaling a long breath. “I’ll feed your morbid curiosity, since you’re so determined to believe this is a weakness that can be used against me. After this, we’re done discussing her. Period. Do I make myself clear?”