"It's okay to be afraid. I'll be with you. Right beside you the entire ride."
"I can't do it."
"Yes, you can." Pulling away, he left one arm draped possessively around my shoulders. He began walking again, slowly this time. I didn't protest, just let him lead the way. "The best medicine for fear is confrontation."
Confrontation. That word made me queasy. Still, I pushed a puff of air past my lips. "You're right," I said. "I know you're right, but that doesn't stop me from wishing you were wrong."
He didn't reply, giving me time to overcome my riotous fears.
"I'll do it." I forced myself to say the words. "I will. I'll do it."
The hand at my shoulder tightened. "Good girl. Come on," he said, quickening his pace and forcing me to keep up. "It's not as bad as you think." Unfortunately, we had reached the plane. The death trap.
How could something so heavy stay in the air? Small as it was, it looked like it weighed a gazillion pounds, with a heavy white metal body and wide expanse of wings.
"Let me prove how safe it is. You'll love every second in the air so much you'll beg me to take you again."
Not in this lifetime.
The terror I had managed to set aside while snuggled in the crook of his arm reared its ugly head again, stronger than before, mocking my determination to push onward. That terrible ringing erupted in my ears once more, so loud I almost screamed in fright.
Blood rushed from my head, running like ice through my veins. The overnight bag I held fell from my cold, clammy fingers and thumped to the ground. For the space of a heartbeat, the world around me disappeared, replaced by bright, blinking lights. Then the blackened tar beneath my feet shifted, consuming my vision, squelching all hint of light. Why did I feel like I was falling slowly, falling down?
The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, everything quiet. I searched through a dark mist for Royce.
"Naomi," I heard him call. It sounded as if he stood at the end of a long, narrow tunnel. "Talk to me, sweetheart."
The heavy shroud around my mind began to recede and the fog clouding my thoughts thinned. Suddenly, I saw Royce. He was staring down at me, his features drawn tight with worry.
Why was he worried? I blinked in confusion. Slowly comprehension dawned. And with it came mortification.
Holy Mother of God, I'd fainted. Never in my life had I done anything so childish. My inner Tigress finally decided to show herself, only to roar in displeasure. Displeasure with me, not Royce. Weakling, she said.
"Come on. Talk to me," Royce said again.
"I'm all right," I assured him, my voice little more than a whisper.
When I tried to sit up, he gently held me down. "Not yet. You shouldn't move. I'm calling the paramedics. Hang on."
"No." Stronger now, I squeezed his hand. "I'm fine. Really."
"I don't believe you." The anxiety darkening his eyes warmed me. Seeing it made me feel as if a blanket had been placed over my body, heating my flesh, giving me strength. Tentatively, I reached up, touched the side of his cheek with my fingertips.
"I'm not hurt. I promise."
After a terse nod, he replaced his cell phone in his bag and helped me to my feet. Thankfully, I felt no ill effects from my rendezvous with the ground. I tried to smooth the wrinkles from my slacks.
"We can stay," he sighed, surprising me.
I brightened instantly. "Really?"
"Damn it." He jerked a hand down his face. "It was like watching you in slow motion as your knees buckled and you plummeted to the ground. I wasn't able to do anything except catch you and lower you the rest of the way." He massaged his neck. "I'll get your bag and take you home."
"No." The intensity of that one word shocked him, as well as myself, but something had just hit me with the force of a jackhammer. I was acting like the old Naomi, the doormat afraid of the world. I wasn't that woman anymore, and that meant I had to be strong. "I can do this. I can. It's time to conquer my fear, just like you said. Besides, my inner Tigress will kill me if I don't."
That gave him pause, and he blinked down at me. "Your inner Tigress?"
"That's right." A slow smile spread, and I was sure it lit my entire face. "My inner Tigress. She's fierce and bloodthirsty and brave."
He spread his fingers over my head, feeling for a bump. "I think you hit your head a little too hard."
"Careful, or I might have to scratch you to death."
"I might let you, but it depends on where you want to scratch me," he muttered. He frowned and shook his head. "I'm taking you home, Naomi. No," he said when I opened my mouth to protest. "The thought of watching you faint dead away once more makes me shudder. I'll help you overcome your fear another way."
"Please, Royce."
"I said no arguments. That means no pleading, begging, crying or cajoling. And no wetting those luscious lips."
I planted my fists on my hips, my determination increasing with every second that passed. "Either you go with me or I pay someone else to take me and go alone. That's your choice."
"Damn it, Naomi." He let out a forceful breath. "How do you feel about riding in a large company jet instead of a small aircraft?"
I mulled it over, then nodded. I could pretend the large jet was a hotel room and hopefully forget I was soaring thousands of feet in the air, ready to crash at- "Uh, much better."
"My crew can have it ready to go in half an hour if you don't mind waiting."
The force of my relief was almost tangible. "But what about you? Do you mind not being the pilot?"
"I mind-I wanted to impress you, but I'll live through it."
He hustled me inside an air-conditioned room, then made a quick call.
It didn't take the thirty minutes he'd predicted. His flight crew had the Gulfstream ready in twenty. And, God help me, I boarded it.
Once inside the large craft, Royce gave me a tour. I couldn't help but gasp at the luxury. A soft, ivory wraparound couch graced the front entrance. A large-screen television was positioned overhead, perfect for viewing from a reclining position.
There was an office fully equipped with chairs, table and drawing board. Next, I entered a bathroom that was larger than mine at home. And last…the bottom of my stomach dropped out. My eyes widened as I took in the bedroom. It had a small, comfortable-looking mattress and glossy headboard with silk sheets and a soft comforter. The room was used for napping, I was sure, but that didn't matter to my brain.
I pictured Royce there, naked and beckoning me over with a seductive motion of his finger. I'm pretty sure I spent more time imagining Royce naked than I did anything else. If only I could get paid for fantasizing about him… Oh well. On with the fantasy: His bronzed skin glistened against the soft, white sheets. His entire body was hard. Hot. Ready. He continued to motion me over with a crook of his finger, wicked intent in his eyes.
I gulped.
"Let's get ready for takeoff." The real-life Royce placed one hand on my waist, and the contact sent currents of desire down my spine.
I didn't move. Couldn't. My gaze slashed up and collided with his. How could I get so worked up, so quickly?
He sucked in a breath. "Or if you'd rather wait and do other things," he murmured, "I'm all for that."
We stayed completely still for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts, thoughts that were too naughty to voice. Thankfully-and with much effort-I collected my wits. This wasn't the time; this wasn't the place. Distance. I needed distance. I stepped back, trying to act annoyed, though I was tempted to take what he offered. Always tempted.
"Not on your life," I managed. "I want to get this flight over with."
His fiery stare lingered on my lips for a long while. "Too bad. Maybe next time."
Taking my hand, he led me to the wraparound sofa and latched my seat belt into the proper hook. My body began to tremble. I was careful to keep my expression blank, passive, lest he tried to halt the trip. I had to prove to myself that I could do this. That fear didn't rule me.