Just as my leg starts to give out, a hand catches my arm and I’m pulled up into a rock-hard wall of muscle.
Benjamin bends down and holds my calf, twisting it gently so it lifts up out of the crack. He ever-so-fleetingly caresses the flesh, and I’m instantly weaker. My teeth have clamped down on my lip, watching him as he rises, his provocative gaze snagging hold of my motor skills.
“T-Thank you,” I stutter. My eyes are drawn to his full, slightly parted lips. I can remember what they feel like, taste like.
“Are you all right, miss?” Dimitri interjects, standing behind me on the steps.
“Yes…yes. Thank you. I’m fine.” I raise my hand to my hair, smoothing the frayed strands instinctively.
Benjamin’s hand is still on my arm and he guides me into the cabin. I don’t know if he’s afraid I’m going to hurt myself or he just doesn’t want to stop touching me. The flight attendant and pilot are standing at the cockpit, awaiting our arrival.
“Good morning, Mr. Scott. Everything is in order for your flight to Seattle,” says the pretty flight attendant. “We’re ready to depart when you are.”
“Miss Fontaine needs ice for her ankle. We’re ready to depart other than that,” he replies, taking me over to the tan leather seats.
“Of course, sir.” She pins me with a hostile look of disdain and I gape at her.
What? What did I do?
It occurs to me then that she may very well possiblyknowher employer in a much more personal way than just that of a devoted employee.
I sit, and when I look back up, she and the pilot have both disappeared. Dimitri walks to the back of the plane and takes a seat.
“Thank you, Benjamin. You didn’t have to ask for that. My ankle’s fine, really.”
“Better to be safe than sorry.” He smiles softly, buckling his seat belt.
He’s sitting next to me…the whole flight!
“We’re sitting next to each other?” I ask, risking a glance at him.
“Yes. Unless you don’t want me to?”
“No, no, I do. I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”
He leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes with an exhale. I find myself unable to tear my gaze from his flawless profile, studying his gracefully etched mouth, his sharp bone structure, the dotted birthmark just below his left brow. How can someone look so utterly perfect before the sun has even risen?
His eye cracks open, meeting mine, and I know I’m caught. Feeling my face blush the shade of a ripe tomato, I glance down at my newly polished fingernails. I made sure I looked the best I possibly could prior to seeing him again.
“That’s beautiful,” he comments, referring to the emerald ring I’m twisting mindlessly on my right hand.
“It was my mother’s.” I admire it, remembering when she used to wear it on special occasions. I never take it off now. It’s the only thing I have left of my parents. “My father gave it to her on their fifth anniversary.”
“Do you remember them?” he asks, and surprisingly, his voice is soft, compassionate.
“Yes. I do. All the time.”
The attendant returns with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel and he takes it from her. “Thank you.”
As she walks away, he turns to me. “Lift.” I look at him in confusion, not knowing what he means. “Your leg.” He pats his legs.
I shake my head. ”I’m okay. I really am.”
“Darcy, this fundraiser has dancing and a ton of standing. You’re not going to want to be sore.” He raises his brows and I give in, settling my legs over his awkwardly. He gently presses the ice to my ankle and I can’t help the giggle that escapes as I shiver from the chill of it. He smiles at me and I’m blown away by how blinding his smile is. I rarely ever see it. It shocks me every time.
“These heels are a death trap.” He focuses on my bright red pumps, shaking his head.
“These heels cost a fortune, Mr. Scott.”
