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CHAPTER 1
CARLY
Carly tried not to stare as she slid into her assigned seat. After all, her mom had taught her manners before she passed away. But a quick glance told her the man sitting beside her in seat 2A was hot. She could only see his profile because he was typing madly on his computer, but she’d definitely had way worse seatmates on previous flights. Maybe this was an extra benefit of sitting in first class.
If so, it was worth the extra cost.
Her last flight she’d been wedged between a teenage boy whose arms and legs intruded into her space, and a woman who gave her a five-hour sales talk on subscribing to her perfume-of-the-month club, a hard sell since the sickeningly sweet aroma permeating from her almost drove Carly to use her barf bag.
“Ma’am?” The flight attendant, a willowy blonde, bent toward Carly. “Can I get you a pre-flight drink?”
She wasn’t thirsty, but she didn’t want to waste one of her first-class perks. “I’ll have a ginger ale, please.”
“Sir, would you like a drink?” The blonde added a sultry growl to her voice, obviously experiencing the same allure Carly did.
“No, thanks,” he murmured, his fingers moving rapidly across the keys.
Pursing her lips, the flight attendant moved on, but Carly suspected she hadn’t given up on her pursuit.
While 2A was occupied with his computer, Carly took a moment to appreciate his broad shoulders, which were situated a good six inches above hers. The guy was built. Definitely not like any of the engineering nerds she’d ever interacted with. And he looked vaguely familiar. He could be a professional athlete or even a movie star, and she would never know. She seldom came out of her lab at the medical center.
His jawline would’ve been perfect for one of those razor-blade commercials, with the uber-masculine guys who make women swoon when they rub their freshly shaven faces. The advertisers must figure wives will buy those blades, hoping a shave will transform their husbands into sexy hunks.
She hadn’t seen his eyes yet, but she had a feeling they would be smoldering. This guy was so hot, just looking at him heated her blood. On the other hand, she would probably think that about any red-blooded male right now, since her only relationship in the past four years had been with Max.
And the fact that I just thought of my electron microscope as a guy proves I need this break!
Carly ran her fingers from her forehead down to her temple then gave a quick tug on her hair. That’s how she thought of it—as her hair—even though it was actually a wig. And sitting beside the world’s hottest guy—single, from the looks of his empty ring finger—she wanted to be certain everything was in place. He would never suspect that she’d lost all her real hair during her twenties as a result of having alopecia.
Carly now wore wigs in a variety of styles and colors, making no effort to conceal the fact of her hair loss from the people she interacted with every day. Hand tied, with a lace front that made the edge disappear, the wigs were undetectable, even closeup, and so secure she could put her hair in a ponytail if she wanted. But wigs like that didn’t come cheap. The five she owned averaged about $2500 each. She couldn’t wait until she was out of grad school and making enough money to add to her collection.
As the plane taxied toward the runway, the flight attendant called for attention. “If everyone will watch me, I’ll show you exactly how to operate a seatbelt, on the off chance that none of you have ever ridden in a car.”
Everyone chuckled, except her seatmate, who furrowed his brows and typed even faster. Had he missed it or was he a grouch?
My luck, he’ll turn out to be Mr. Grumpy Pants.
Carly was glad she’d chosen her red bob, the one that made her the spitting image of pop star Faye Fortune. It couldn’t hurt to look like the famous singer when she was attempting to catch the attention of Mr. I’m-Hot-But-Busy-Typing. Of course, she’d brought her tame brunette wig for when she was speaking. She preferred that any attention from her presentation would be directed at her research, rather than her looks. But she would have three whole days to herself before the conference even started. She always preferred to be by herself this time of year. And the chance to see fall colors for the first time in her life was an added bonus.
Though currently, the scenery is better from where I’m sitting.
“Here you are, ma’am.” The flight attendant, whose name tag identified her as Layla, delivered a can of ginger ale, along with ice, in a real glass. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like—”
“Faye Fortune?” Carly smiled. “Sure. I’ve even posed for selfies before.”
“Oh! If you don’t mind posing, that would be fun.” Layla pointed to another attendant. “Simon would love it, too.”
“No problem.”
Layla turned her attention to Hot Guy, and her cheeks flushed. Her hands smoothed the front of her uniform. “I hate to bother you, sir, but you’ll need to put away your laptop until we’re in the air.”
“I will.” He nodded and typed even faster. “Almost finished.”
The attendant didn’t move, probably gawking at the masculine scruff along his broad jaw the same way Carly was. “I’m sorry, sir, but...”
“Just twenty more seconds?” He graced her with the briefest of glances, but it was enough to heighten her blush.
“Okay.” She leaned over me and lowered her voice. “But you’ll have to make it up to me.”
