He wasmouthwatering. The man, whose name I was eager to hear, was tall and tanned, with ink-dark hair and eyes of pooled melted chocolate. His face was male-model perfect, with high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a very kissable mouth surrounded by neatly trimmed stubble. Just sitting next to him was more than enough to cause a flutter between my thighs.
“Val.” His hand seemed as large as both of mine put together. His grip was firm and businesslike—matching the rest of his confident and professional demeanor.
“Val?” I asked, as I shook his hand, loving how rough and powerful his palm felt against mine. “I love that name.” I looked him up and down. “Very…movie-star-esque. Don’t tell me you were named after Val Kilmer?”
His serious face broke a little at my question.
“Val Kilmer?” he asked. “The Batman guy?”
I cocked my head to the side, thinking it over. “He was Batman?”
Val chuckled. The laugh was slight, and something about it made me think he didn’t laugh very often. The guy seemed all business, handsome as he was.
“You didn’t know Val Kilmer played Batman?” he asked, looking at me with amused confusion. “How old are you, exactly?” He closed his eyes for a moment after he spoke, as if he realized that he’d just made a faux pas in asking a woman her age. “Sorry, that was rude.”
I smiled, not bothered at all. “It’s fine. I’m twenty-five. And what about you, boomer?”
His eyes flashed, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how much his stoic expression broke at my crack.
“Boomer?” he asked. “Come on, give me a little more credit than that. I’m Gen-X, all the way.”
“Hmm.” I gave him another look over. Although it was obvious he was older than me, I was having a hard time guessing his age. There were so many confounding factors. For one, his hairline was perfect—movie-star perfect without a trace of thinning. He was in killer shape, and other than a few small wrinkles around his eyes, there weren’t many other clues.
“How about…forty-two?” I asked.
“Close, forty-one.”
“Ah, so you’re more than familiar with all of Val Kilmer’s movies, including whatever he made in the eighties.” I followed this up with a playful grin.
The plane made its series of turns on the runway as we prepared to take off.
“My mom named me after an actor she was crazy about whenshewas a kid. Rudolph Valentino.”
“Valentino.” I grinned, liking the way his name rolled off my tongue. “That’s a pretty cool name. Very romantic.”
He matched my smile with one of his own. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to my mom.”
I turned my attention back to my phone and looked up Rudolph Valentino.
“No way,” I said, holding the phone up next to his face in order to get a side-by-side comparison. “There’s no way your mom could’ve known that you were going to look so similar to him.”
“I think it was the hair,” he replied. “When I was born, I came with all of this.” He pointed to his amazing head of hair.
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get a single word out, the plane kicked into action, speeding down the runway and lifting off.
“I love this part!” I said, a big smile on my face as I quickly turned on my phone’s airplane mode before tucking it back into my pocket. “The way your stomach just sucks up against your spine. It’s awesome.”
I had my eyes forward. But when I didn’t get a response, I looked over at Valentino. His hands gripped the arm rests, practically ready to rip them off the seats. The look on his face was stoic and stony, as if he were using all of his focus to not freak out.
“You alright?” I asked.
“Fine.” The word came out with a slightly sharp tone.
“You’re afraid of flying?”
As soon as I said the words, I realized how loud I’d been. A few of the people around us looked over, which I’m sure Valentino didn’t appreciate one bit. I shut up, doing my best to form my mouth into a hard line.
I couldn’t get over the contradiction that a man built like him—tall, broad shouldered, muscular and solid as a brick wall—would be afraid of anything.
