Michele Dunaway - Taming The Tabloid Heiress

Succumbing to her nervous habit, she bit her bottom lip and stole another glance toward the window.

What was it about this man, anyway? Calvin Klein models couldn’t hold a candle to him. With a sigh Kit rubbed her left ear to relieve the pressure, but it didn’t help. Disturbed by the wicked thoughts still dancing in her head, she removed the last honey-roasted peanut from the foil pouch sitting on her tray and popped it into her mouth.

Anything to keep her mind off the way his firm fingers sensually rolled his laptop computer’s trackball as he played solitaire.

Kit settled back into the seat, her thoughts wistful. What would it be like to just once completely let go, to feel unbridled passion and get away without anyone recording her every move? Just slip up to the front lavatory with him….

Kit brushed aside the tempting but wicked thought.

Opening her eyes, she watched him move the ten of clubs before again studying his game.

“Move that eight. It plays on the nine of hearts,” Kit said as she pointed out a move he had missed for two draws. “Next, move that four. It plays on that five right there.”

He arched an eyebrow up expectantly at her. “Did you want a turn?”

“No.”

“Just checking. I did think this game was called solitaire for a reason. But if you change your mind and want to play I’m sure we could arrange something.” His dubious grin and innuendo should have infuriated her, but oddly it didn’t. Kit frowned as the airplane banked slightly and the Atlantic came into her view.

“There’s the ocean. We must be almost there.” She pointed directly in front of his nose. Patiently he turned to her and folded the screen down. A little chill ran down her spine. The chill avalanched at his next words.

“Pity.” Mirth laced his voice as the captain announced their impending approach to Miami. “It could have been so very interesting, ma chérie. Oui? But we now are no longer a mile high.”

Kit flushed at his French-Canadian accent. Did he use that delicious accent with the women he took to his bed? She shuddered involuntarily at the illicit thought, and then she managed to get a grip on herself.

“My loss.” Kit raised her shoulders and let them down slowly in an eloquent, dismissive shrug. Her strawberry-blond hair bobbed around her shoulders. “I shall have to go my whole life wondering what if…what if we had had one of those magical encounters of two ships passing in the night? What if we just missed the most dizzying lovemaking of our lives? Ah, but unfortunately life is just one big what if.”

Yes, she could pretend to be a vixen when she needed to. There was at least a sliver of truth in those mythical tabloid accounts of her sex life. She smiled to herself when he jerked his eyes away from her.

The plane began its final approach and Kit’s smile faded. At the captain’s orders she readjusted her seat belt, thoughts of her seatmate disappearing as the panic began. Fingers tense, she gripped the armrests. Although she had flown to all corners of the world, she still feared takeoffs and landings.

She screwed her eyes shut, missing the look of concern that crossed her seatmate’s face as she began using breathing exercises in order to remain calm. Slowly she inhaled and exhaled, letting her chest rise and fall in a rhythmic motion. Few knew the fearless Kit O’Brien had an Achilles’ heel. Few had seen the one-woman rebellion grip her seat as if the devil himself was flying.

In the numbing black Kit felt a stray hair lift away from her terrified face. Through her mindless panic Kit suddenly felt a fire as skin touched skin. His right hand covered her left one, his fingertips slowly caressing her whitened knuckles. An electric energy of desire liquefied her veins, sending warmth spreading through her. His touch made her forget herself, and Kit barely felt the beginning of the descent. Her body hummed from his touch, and she imagined him kissing her. He claimed her ruby lips, tasting and teasing them with his tongue until they were swollen with the blood of passion.

The blessed thump came, and brakes squealed in their whine to stop the speeding plane. Slowly Kit opened her eyes, blinking to shake off disorientation. Though she was finally on the ground, she wasn’t sure she was safe. In the span of less than three hours, Kit knew her life had somehow been altered, but she wasn’t sure exactly how.

Focusing on the seat back in front of her, she brought the fingers of her right hand up to touch her lips. She felt the stickiness of her lipstick and exhaled deeply. It was fantasy, although it had seemed so real.

The pressure of his fingers lifted as he abruptly withdrew his hand from hers. His voice sounded almost curt. “We’re here.”

Kit blinked twice and focused as an icy coolness descended upon her hand. Her skin still tingled, missing the heat of his fingers. “Uh, good.”

Steadying her shaking voice, Kit continued to speak as the plane came to a stop. “Thanks for nursing me through the landing. It was sweet.”

He raised an eyebrow and Kit wondered if he knew that her thoughts a moment ago had been anything but sweet.

“It was nothing.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, and Kit felt her feminine ego shatter a bit as he dismissed her. She didn’t know why she was expecting something from a total stranger, but somehow she did. Maybe she really was the fool her father insisted she was.

With new determination she stood, the moment the seat belt light went off. “Well, thanks for sharing the flight. I’m off. I’ve got a rather difficult job ahead of me.”

“Good luck.” He didn’t blink, but instead looked at her as if memorizing her features.

Kit flushed. “Thanks.”

He didn’t respond, but instead joined her in the aisle. He towered four inches over her, and Kit stepped back. He must be at least six feet tall, she mused, watching him retrieve her two carry-on pieces with an almost practiced ease.

Oh, well, Kit thought a bit wistfully as he shrugged into his black sport coat. One more look couldn’t hurt. She let her gaze travel down his shirt’s button line to where it tapered to a perfectly proportioned waist. As he turned away from her, Kit decided that whoever he was, he was definitely one fit man. His masculine aura so fully commanded the small section of first class that the gray-haired woman behind her jostled her aside for a better view.

Knocked off balance, Kit crashed forward into him. He caught her easily, and under the soft cloth of his shirt taut muscles rippled. Instinctively her fingertips splayed across his firm chest. So hard, so solid…her knees wobbled as her body immediately molded to his. Delicious delirium overcame her as she inhaled his musky, all-male scent.

His strong arms steadied her. As his deep brown eyes looked down at her, Kit felt as if she were sinking into those gold-flecked pools.

“Are you okay?”

His soft-spoken words brought reality crashing back in. Shaken, Kit stepped away, but not before she saw his eyes darken and his face cloud over.

“I’m fine,” she lied, wondering if he had felt her desire. Did he know how tempted she had been by him during the flight? His guarded expression revealed nothing, and his long brown lashes hooded his eyes. Kit knew she couldn’t leave it like this. This man was going to haunt her dreams, and she didn’t even know his name. He at least had to have a name. Panic overwhelmed her, and she knew she had to say something to him, no matter what the consequences.

“Come on, honey. I’ve got to catch a connection to San Juan. Could you get a move on?”

“What?” Kit turned in disbelief to look at the woman behind her. The carry-ons Kit held crashed into one of the seats, and she paused to readjust her grip. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The woman’s flat smile revealed her irritation and impatience.

Kit put on her most dazzling smile and turned around. “It was nice to have—”

The aisle ahead of her was empty. He was gone.

LESS THAN AN HOUR LATER Kit wondered what she had gotten herself into as she slid the pass card into the door handle of cabin 4648. The room certainly wasn’t what she was accustomed to, or what she was expecting.

“At least it’s an outside view,” Kit muttered as she slowly opened the door to the last spot available on less than twenty-four hours’ notice. Although the Island Voyager billed itself as a modern, comfortable ship, Kit decided the description didn’t apply to the bottom class of cabins.

Kit wrinkled her nose as she surveyed the dorm-size rectangular room she would be sharing with a roommate. The window was directly opposite the door, and on each side of the window were two tiny twin beds. Above them upper berths, normally hidden in the ceiling, were now lowered and locked into place.

Kit faced the window. The writing desk next to her right hip doubled as a dresser. Then she turned to her left. The sink and dressing table were on this wall, along with a small closet that was next to the sink. Even the door leading to the shower and toilet was small. Not a lot of space for one person, much less two. Her bathroom at home was twice as large as the entire room.

But the cabin would have to suffice for the three nights she would be on the Last Frontier theme cruise.

Kit pictured Eleni’s face, and now she knew why her editor had gotten that odd expression when Kit had accepted the assignment.

“I won’t be able to get you a press kit or an assignment sheet until tomorrow,” Eleni had said. “I’ll have a package meet the ship in Nassau.”

“Fine,” Kit had said.

“If you’re sure. They say they have one passenger spot available.” Eleni had pushed a stray brown hair out of her face. “You’d have to be willing to share a cabin.”

“A roommate?” Kit had blinked, but at that moment Eleni’s intercom had buzzed with the announcement that Michael O’Brien was on his way up. Unwilling to face her father, Kit had said, “I’ll take it.”

“Get going.” Eleni had waved at the door to the side hall. “You can pick up your tickets at LaGuardia. Just enjoy yourself until the information arrives tomorrow. And, Kit, be sensible!”

With that Kit had fled. And so here she was, sharing a cabin with someone she didn’t know, and all of this in order to do an interview she wouldn’t know anything about until tomorrow.

Kit glanced at her watch and wondered how Eleni had fared with Kit’s father, the domineering patriarch of O’Brien Publications. Knowing her father’s temper and his belief that his society daughter should not work, Kit was sure the morning meeting had not gone well. No, her father would be furious she had escaped to an out-of-town assignment. She grimaced. She owed her editor a big one.

Still, Kit needed these next four days. Not only would she prove herself a worthy journalist, she might even get to relax before going home. By that time, perhaps, her brother, Cameron, would have yet another new girlfriend. Her father loved the idea of getting Cameron married even more than he liked the idea of Kit marrying. Every time Cameron had a girlfriend it usually took the heat off Kit for a while.

She rotated her neck to stretch out the kinks left over from the flight. After the press packet and assignment sheet arrived tomorrow, she would do the interview, write the story, and get her father off of her back in the process.

The door opened and Kit waited for her roommate. More than one person entered, but Kit ignored the conundrum and smiled.

“Kit!” The woman Kit had had the misfortune of being seated next to on the bus from the airport screeched shrilly in delight and gave Kit a big, smothering bear hug. “I didn’t believe it when I saw that you were in our cabin! I’m Georgia, remember?”