Mac stepped onto a plane packed full of Spring Breakers, most dressed in dark colors reflecting the cold city temperatures, some venturing to wear more vibrant apparel. The energy hummed with the expectation of what waited on the other end of the trip. The young women with fit bodies wrapped in tight clothes accented by straight glossy hair, pouty lips and laughter, jockeyed to grab the attention of the buff college guys. As people tried to settle in, it looked like a game of Whack-a-Mole. Excitement crackled in the air and traveled in waves of laughter. The noise bombarded his ears, making his head pound but he could still appreciate a fine young woman’s tight body. A sly grin crossed his face as he thought of joining the mile high club with one of them.

As he jostled through bodies to make his way to his aisle seat, he instantly became weary of the woman in the seat next to his, hanging her head and breathing deeply. This isn’t what he had in mind after a night of partying. Hyperventilation and vomiting weren’t on his agenda. Her silky chestnut hair hung as a curtain across her face. She rubbed her hands up and down on her black knit pants then curled them over the cold, grey armrest so tightly, her knuckles turned white. He made note of the light blue button-up shirt and gray sweater, the uniform of a straight-laced gal.

Mac carefully sat down, not sure what to make of her, but he was certain the person next to him didn’t find joy in the gift of flight. Looking for another empty seat would be pointless on the packed flight. He let out a deep sigh, this wasn’t going to make his bloody day. The only relief was the flight from New York City to Cancun would be short. He was a little ragged after his mates took him out for some drinks and would settle for a nap. The woman turned to him, peering up cautiously as the curtain parted to reveal amazing smoky, steel-blue eyes. His reaction to her beauty, triggered something in him, wondering what she hid under her drab clothes and made up face. He stared at her, waiting for her to speak.

“I’m going to apologize now before we take off. I don’t like to fly. Turbulence is the worst for me. Just ignore the heavy breathing.” He had difficulty hearing her as her voice raised a hair above a whisper with a definite American accent. She appeared petrified and suddenly looked down again. In that flash, the face of classic beauty with smooth rose-tinted skin, high cheekbones and full lips caught his eye, but her demeanor said this might be a long flight for both of them. Just his luck. He would pull out his charm to convince her to come down off the ledge.

Being an experienced passenger and pilot, Mac knew it was one of the safest forms of transportation. “You know flying is the safest way to travel, right?”

The woman’s head snapped up. “Oh, God, like I haven’t been told that a million times!” She recoiled. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come across so harshly. I’ve even studied the mechanics behind it all. I can’t get my head wrapped around it.” Her lips drew a very taut line as those mesmerizing blue eyes gazed into her lap again.

At least there’s a little fire in kitten’s belly. I wonder what else is hidden under there. So much to explore, so little time.

The minute Mac sat down next to this beauty, he sensed something very different about her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the pull went beyond physical attraction. She continued her calming exercises as the flight crew prepared for takeoff. The plane began to taxi when her heavy breathing stopped.

Alarmed, he turned to her. “Are you okay? You’re not going to pass out on me, are you? Then I would have to hold you for the rest of the flight.”

She tilted her head up with a slight blush in her cheeks in time to see his cocky grin. “No. Oddly enough, I’m okay with the takeoffs and landings. It’s the in-between parts that freak me out. Turbulence. I always anticipate the worst.” Her eyes pleaded with his to take away her fear of flying. His grin faded as he registered her innocence, sparking his curiosity. He couldn’t recall meeting a woman who could exude such innocence. He wanted to reach out and touch her because she seemed to wear it so naturally.

Mac felt compelled to offer his hand, giving her the choice and the control. This simple act of kindness went against every fiber in his body, but instinct told him she needed to feel safe. Under other circumstances, with any other woman, he would have taken her hand without asking, but something about her had him listening to the warning bells in his head. Comfort was all he offered. He didn’t need her going into a full-blown anxiety attack.

When she reluctantly put her hand in his, the electric current that coursed between them took him aback. Her hands were a surprising combination of strong yet delicate. He held her eyes with his own as the warmth from her hand ran through him, an unexpected pleasure. The energy flowed through his veins, awakening a part of him he didn’t know was asleep. His mission in life was to avoid all feelings or any deep connection to a woman. Yet this stranger pulled the breath out of him by simply holding his hand. She gripped onto his hand for dear life. He didn’t want her to let go as the natural instinct of being a fixer took over. He could be the one to help her.

Jesus, I’m losing it. When have I ever had a reaction like this? Something this strong. Never
.

He needed to reel in his emotions. He’d learned early on that women were unpredictable, not terribly dependable creatures, and they would leave you. He couldn’t ignore the rope of warmth curling around his arm and over his body, a sensation like none other, but was she aware of it too? Then he saw a faint smile curl her lips.

Mara hesitated at first, struggling with the idea of taking comfort from a total stranger or putting up a tough front. During her effort to stay calm, she could feel his energy before he ever sat down, triggering something in her she couldn’t explain. The buzz between them had begun. Her own curiosity and need for comfort won out as she carefully slid her petite hand into Mac’s larger, protective one.

She noticed how it dominated hers. She had a thing about men’s hands. They were one of the most important body parts. A man’s hand had to be strong and rugged with generous fingers. They would instinctively know how to touch a woman’s body and face. His hand hit all the checks on her list.

The warmth came from the middle of his hand like a force that reached down inside her as the tingling made its way through her entire body. Her breathing instantly settled into an even rhythm. This aura of being safe and protected with him was something she hadn’t experienced in many years—maybe not ever. It scared her that a perfect stranger could conjure up so much emotion with one touch. Lately, life had been a roller coaster ride. After what transpired over the previous four months, her emotions resembled something that had been chewed up and spit back out again. She felt his eyes trying to penetrate her, watching her intently, but she wasn’t sure what that meant. She didn’t want to appear to be a complete fool. But the fool slipped away as she continued to grip his hand, not wanting to let go. His hand was a life preserver in her stormy sea.

The plane leveled off and seemed to be flying smoothly. She finally calmed herself enough to closely examine his face. Taking a closer look, as if she seeing him for the first time, her eyes assessed the man next to her. He wasn’t classically good-looking, but rugged and his charm came shining through. She guessed that combination was what got him by with the ladies. He had a strong jawline with a slight curve in his nose, accented by a very small cleft in his chin, his lips were full and sensuous. As he looked at her, she got lost in a pair of deep moss-green eyes with flecks of amber. The scar above his right eyebrow only added to his appeal, giving him an air of danger. She held her hands back from wanting to run through his messy, dark brown head of hair that curled slightly at the ends.

His appearance didn’t scream runway model. Thank God. Her late husband wore that curse, and it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Sometimes, the ego was larger than the looks could support. Her eyes perused downward to see a dark green chambray shirt hiding a tight red t-shirt that stretched across a well-defined chest and shoulders. His jeans stretched over tight, large, muscular legs. The build of a warrior and the combination of danger should have intimidated her, but it didn’t. Taking him in visually did things to her body. She caught her breath at the thought of touching him, creating a combination of excitement and curiosity.

Her gaze came back up to see him watching her. Her eyes were big and lips parted as she gave a small, almost inaudible gasp. Yep, she got caught ogling. She wasn’t aware of how long they stared into each other’s eyes, but the energy traveling between them was very different. She’d never felt this connection with any man she had ever known. Her reaction unsettled her, and yet she recognized him and that made her heart race with trepidation as she dared to be delighted by the encounter.

“See something you like, sweetheart? What’s your name?” She recognized a heavy Scottish brogue.

And yes, she did see something—or rather someone—she liked, but she wouldn’t let him know that right away. “Marabella Luccenzo. Everyone calls me Mara. And you would be?” Her eyes continued to lock on to his, holding her own.

“MacGregor Creighton. I go by Mac. Are you headed to Mexico for business or pleasure?” Curiosity flickered in his eyes the way a man looks when he thinks his will have his way with a woman. He smiled like a dog about to chase a ball.

“My sisters kidnapped me for a last-minute forced vacation. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get seats together; otherwise, I would be holding their hands. Sorry.” She didn’t smile and any relaxation left her demeanor. Hesitantly, she let go of Mac’s hand. The loss of his warmth made her want to grab him again and not let go.

“Don’t apologize. But if I kidnapped you, you wouldn’t be sitting alone. You have a death grip on something in your other hand.” His eyes zeroed in on her closed hand. His smile faded as he caught the turmoil in her eyes.

“You’re going to think I have the maturity of a twelve-year-old. It’s a porcelain dragon. I made him when I was a child. He’s light green with yellow spots and used to have gold wings. His name is Eros.”

Mara opened her hand slowly to show Mac her minute token of security. He smiled at the friendly big eyes and lopsided smile on the dragon’s face. As he tried to reach for Eros, she drew her hand away and closed her fist.

He spoke to the hurt child in her eyes. “When I was little, I had a keen interest in dragons, their color meaning, symbolism, and origins. Green is a symbol of growth, awakenings, and rebirth. Gold is a color of wealth and strength. He has some fascinating heritage.”

“Mmm, that’s interesting given what has happened recently,” she said cryptically. “I’m sorry. I don’t want anyone else handling him. His wings are already broken and the ends are sharp. I know it’s silly, but I feel more secure when I have him with me. I made all kinds of little creatures when I was little, but his silly grin is the one that got to my heart. I named him Eros before I knew what Eros meant.”

Mac’s smile faltered. “Love. He’s been loved a lot. How did the wings break?”

Mara gazed at him through anguished eyes as her body tightened. “It’s a long story, and not worth getting into right now.”

Her face dulled as she remembered the hurtful story behind the broken wings.

Instinctively, Mac wanted to take that worry away. His usual MO wasn’t to rescue damsels in distress—he had always been attracted to strong, detached women—but Mara was quite the opposite. He sensed her strength, but she wasn’t detached in any way. She drew him in with those eyes as if she recognized a kindred spirit in him. His body tensed involuntarily. Mac wanted to probe into what was behind that anguish, but he wouldn’t push her. He wanted to save the dive into that depth for later. At that moment, he wanted to know what made her tick and unwind her a bit. Damn it! What was wrong with him? This wasn’t his style. Never taking the time to get to know someone, he was usually a bump-and-run kind of guy. The less he knew, the better, but not this time. Something grabbed a hold of him at his core and wouldn’t let go. His reaction sparked a deep interest in the beautiful creature next to him.

The plane jumped and bumped with some light turbulence. As Mara bounced up, Eros dumped in her lap and she gripped the armrests as if they were somehow attached to Earth. She had little beads of sweat starting to form on her brow. Mac wanted to put his arm around her stiff body and comfort her, but he sensed somehow he shouldn’t touch her, not yet. Her steel reinforcements were firmly in place. Mara’s hands gripped and released the armrests several times. He watched her battle with keen interest. She put her head down as she managed to breathe through her anxiety as the turbulence subsided, giving him a triumphant smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her false sense of bravado got to him. The vulnerability made her the perfect mess, trying to be strong. The insecurities hiding behind her smile made him want her more. He didn’t want her physically. He wanted what she held inside her. The chase had begun.

As she bent forward to do her breathing exercises, he inhaled the honeysuckle scent of her hair. The aroma brought back scenes from his childhood. His family’s farm had rows of honeysuckle bushes that bloomed twice a year, and the smell permeated the air. The memory transported him to a place of laughter and peace. A bolt of lightning went through him, a sense of familiarity. Somehow, he felt like it might be his sister tapping him on the shoulder. The power in those memories signaled that he needed to proceed with caution where Mara was concerned. Things inside his heart started to pay close attention. All this from sitting next to an intriguing woman he had just met. Looking at her made him stop and take note of what he might be missing in his manic life. He wasn’t going to survive the flight without falling a little for this
leannan
. Ah, he hadn’t thought of that word in years, the Gaelic word for sweetheart that held so much meaning for him. Thank God this was a short flight because he was definitely headed for disaster and in some very unfamiliar territory.

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