"Who, uh, sent me what?"
He leaned forward, his sandalwood fragrance wafting around me as surely as his heat. He pointed and said, "Those," in a tone that reeked of anger and attitude.
What was this? Another bout of jealousy? "None of your business," I said, turning my head to see how my words affected him. Right before my eyes, Royce's seemingly casual facade mutated into black fury he couldn't hide.
"Who's sending you flowers, Naomi? Are you seeing someone else?"
I studied the hard line of his jaw. He'd been jealous at the thought of me flirting with Colin, but this was different. This was more potent. Raw. Like before, a part of me reveled in the thought that this man, this wonderfully sexy man, felt strongly enough about me to harbor feelings of possessiveness.
Maybe I was playing with fire by goading him, but I kind of liked the thought of being burned. "Like I told you, Royce, it's none of your business."
"Who is he? I have a right to know. Are you seeing someone else?"
I pressed my lips together, refusing to answer. A pulse ticked in Royce's temple. If his teeth clenched any tighter, I feared his jaw would break. Was it cruel of me to enjoy this so much? My ex-may he become stranded on a deserted island, his only companion a legion of man-hungry bees-had been a jealous man, but it had been an accusing, projecting I-know-you're-cheating-on-me jealousy, not a possessive one.
Feeling bold and dangerous, I plucked a petal from one of the carnations and breathed in its scent, pretending fascination with the flower. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"
Royce clasped my arm and spun me all the way around, effectively gaining my undivided attention. The petal floated unheeded to the floor. Heat fairly sparkled in his eyes.
"Are you seeing someone else?" he asked again, each word bit out.
"And if I am? You've been seen with Miss Summers."
"That's not an answer, and I explained about Gwen. I've already called her and told her I won't be escorting her again. Now, are you seeing someone else?"
"No," I sighed, inexplicably relieved he'd done as promised and told Gwennie goodbye. "Are you happy now?"
He released me, suddenly relaxed and completely at ease. "Who are they from?" he asked curiously, as if he hadn't been on the verge of eruption.
"My stepdad."
"Good." He tucked a stray tendril of dark hair gently behind my ear; his fingers lingered at the rise of my cheek, caressing the skin there. "I refuse to share." Then, "Get your stuff and we'll head out." He didn't give me time to disagree, he simply exited the kitchen.
He refused to share me.
I gripped the counter behind me and frowned. That was just the kind of thing a domineering Triple C would say. How macho. How revolting.
How sweet.
I heaved a deep exhalation. You don't like to share, either, Naomi. Remember? And there will always be other women vying for Royce's attention. How long do you think he'll retain this attraction to you and you alone?
My frown deepened into a scowl and I stomped to my room. I shouldn't want to be with him, not this much, and his legendary conquests shouldn't matter to me. Again, not this much.
As I gathered my bag and briefcase, a sense of unease stretched and awoke inside me, obliterating all other thoughts. I was about to board a plane, aka a flying instrument of death. My stomach bottomed out, leaving a hollow ache in my side.
A bit shaky, I trudged through the apartment in search of Royce.
He was lounging across the bright red cushions on my couch, looking at home as he waited for me. His expression warmed when he spotted me. "All set?"
I managed a convincing nod. I'd rather face the burning pits of hell than step one foot inside an airplane. Maybe I should have had Jonathan hypnotize me for this. Not that it had ever worked before, but I was desperate.
"You're going to have fun, I promise," he said.
With the erratic pounding of my heart, the ride to the airport proved maddening. Royce talked the entire time, asking me about my fears, trying to comfort me with statistics and a list of requirements for all his mechanics and planes. He'd even brought charts for me to view. I didn't say a word. I was simply too nervous to make conversation.
When we reached our destination, a quiet ring sounded in my ears. I shook my head to clear the noise, but it persistently remained. I hadn't brought that stupid BlueJay, had I? "What's that ringing?" I asked raggedly. "Do you hear ringing?"
"No. Sweetheart, it's going to be okay," Royce said. "I promise. I hate that you're so afraid."
As we walked down a winding corridor hand in hand-I didn't even try to pull away-I cast a sidelong glance at his profile. He seemed in perfect control. Our steps echoed throughout the empty hangar. The closer we came to the plane, the stiffer I became. I squeezed his hand, hoping to make him stop, or at the very least, slow him down. I thought I could do this.
I couldn't.
The ringing in my ears increased in volume, a frantically rising crescendo of string instruments. "Please, Royce. Choose somewhere here in Dallas to host the party."
He didn't stop, didn't pause for that matter, just continued to guide me down the corridor. "We've got to conquer this fear of yours. I have to travel, it's part of my job, and I want you to be able to go with me. Once we're in the air, you're going to love it. I know you will."
"Please," I repeated, a bit more desperately.
"Sweetheart," he said, glancing in my direction. "Do you trust me? You have to know I would never let you get hurt."
"Can't we drive? I'm sure it won't take us long." Sweat beaded on my forehead.
He laughed, a husky laugh he tried to squelch. "That's a twelve-hour drive. No," he said, shaking his head, "we'll fly." That said, he tossed me a wink.
As if winking at me solved all my problems!
"It'll be fun," he said. "You'll see."
I knew I'd have more fun strapped naked on top of a cab going two miles per hour through downtown traffic.
"Once you've flown in a plane like this one, you'll never want to touch the ground again."
He didn't understand. I had to make him understand. The only word to escape my constricting throat, however, was "Please." The ringing in my ears was so loud now, I could barely hear myself. The desperate plea finally stopped him in his tracks. There was an edge of disconsolateness in my voice this time, along with cold-blooded fear.
He looked down, his eyes filling with concern. "It's going to be okay," he repeated. And I knew he kept repeating the same phrases to drill them into my mind. "I'd never let anything happen to you."
"You're right, okay, about me being afraid. I-I hate planes," I whispered. The knuckles clasping my overnight bag turned white with the force of my grip.
"I can see that." Using the tip of his finger, he lifted my face until our gazes locked. "Want to tell me why?"
Where was my Tigress when I needed her? I bit my lip, hard, the action close to drawing blood.
"If you don't stop that, I'm going to kiss you so I can ease the sting your teeth are inflicting."
Looking away, I said, "It's not the plane. Not really. It's the fear of crashing."
He enfolded me in his arms, causing the ringing to subside. I buried my head in the hollow of his neck. His hands caressed my back, offering comfort. "You're more likely to be in a car accident than a plane crash."
"You told me that before, but now I want you to tell that to everyone who's ever been in a plane crash."
"Have you ever flown before?"
"Yes. Once."
"And you didn't die."
"No, but the wheels twisted on takeoff and we had to fly around for hours, getting rid of fuel. I've never been so scared in my life."
"But you did land safely."
"Yes," I admitted.
"With me as the pilot and having checked the plane myself, nothing bad will happen this time."
"I-I just can't. I had to be heavily sedated last time, and even that didn't stop my panic."