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Her own jaw came unhinged. “No way!” she cried out.
“Belinda?” Paul questioned.
“Oh no. Oh no. It can’t be him. It just can’t be him.” Distraught wasn’t strong enough to explain her current state of mind.
Belinda ducked down in the seat. How could she get away from here? Fourteen years of wishing Jagger would come for her, and now she was going to randomly run into him? It was all wrong and maybe not random at all. He must be part of the show.
She glanced out the window again. He was turned slightly away from her. She couldn’t see his face, but she could gawk at his beautiful shape. He’d matured in all the right ways, filling out his large frame to absolute perfection. What she wouldn’t give to run her hands over his broad shoulders, savor the muscle under that firm skin, engage in the fiery, passionate kisses she’d never been able to get enough of.
Oh no! She’d barely glimpsed Jagger and already she was fantasizing about kisses she’d longed for these past fourteen years. She couldn’t let her guard down, no matter how she yearned for him. What was she going to do? What if she had to spend a week around him? Maybe he was only part of the greeting committee. She could stay strong for the info dump about the reality show, then she’d never see him again. It couldn’t possibly hurt as bad as it had when she was eighteen. She hoped.
She did pray. Fervently.
“Please, Lord, let a jet airplane drop from the sky and land on Jagger Lemuel’s handsome head.” She couldn’t in good conscience end such a prayer in the Savior’s name, so she simply said, “Amen.”
“Belinda?” Paul touched her arm.
She looked at him and gnawed at her lower lip.
“Are you okay?”
“No. Definitely not okay.”
“What can I do to help?”
Such a nice guy.
Jagger had been fabulous to her, treated her like a princess, but he wasn’t some ‘nice guy.’ He was crazy fun, scorching excitement, tougher than nails, full of pride, and attractive as sin.
Sin …
Belinda hung her head. She wanted to commit the sin of anger, contention, dismemberment, murder …
No, not murder. She would stop at dismemberment. Most likely.
“Can you give me a moment to compose myself?” She forced a smile. “You get yourself off the plane and greet everybody. I’ll be right behind you.”
“I hate to leave you.”
“Please. My …” What did she call Jagger? “… former love is out there, and I haven’t seen him in fourteen years. I need a moment of quiet prayer and reflection to be able to face him without having a come apart.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I understand.” He straightened out of the seat.
“Thank you. Be right behind you.”
Paul nodded and walked to the door and then out of it. She cowered in her seat, wondering what to do, how to deal with this.
“Please help,” she begged heaven above. Her faith meant everything to her. She had given untold hours, her entire life truly, to fighting hunger, loving children, and hoping to be an example of the Savior’s love and a beacon of His light. She was naturally feisty and had to fight her inclination to ‘run off at the mouth,’ as her mom would say.
Right now, it wasn’t just her mouth that wanted to fight. She wanted to slug Jagger in the gut for dumping her with no explanation and breaking her heart in two. Then maybe she’d kiss him good and long, just to see if it was as incredible as she remembered or if she was delusional in her memories of him. Then she’d hit him again. Then she’d hopefully be able to walk away with her head held high.
What if she and Paul had to interact with him all week? No. Oh, no.
“Please help,” she begged again. Her thoughts weren’t very saint-like, and she had no idea how to respond to Jagger being put in her path again. “‘I can do all things through Christ, which strengtheneth me,’” she murmured.
Yes, that was the ticket. The Savior would help her, lift her when she was weak, as He had done hundreds of times.
She stood on trembling legs, hid the ring that handsome heartbreaker outside the jet had given her under her T-shirt, and started toward the plane entrance. “‘Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.’ Oh, come on.” She laughed unsteadily. “That is a bit dramatic.”
