Page 2 of Hidden Resolution

She sucked in a breath, and their gazes collided. 3D wasn’t as cool and collected as she pretended.

After she was situated, he took his seat and waited for the rest of the passengers to trickle through first class to their economy accommodations. It wasn’t long before the boarding was complete and the flight attendant asked for their drink requests.

“Scotch. Neat,” he said.

“White wine,” his seatmate requested.

After their beverages were delivered, Mason took a large, appreciative swallow. How long had it been since he took time for himself or indulged?

Too long.

He debated the merits of conversing with the beddable bombshell next to him. Most days, he was up for mild flirtation, but it had been a helluva week, and he wanted to relax without any distractions.

“I’m Shonda.”

The decision was taken away from him, and he could either be rude or introduce himself. Although he leaned toward the first option, his upbringing required the second.

“Mason.”

“Where are you heading?”

“St. Thomas. You?”

“St. Thomas,” she replied with a breathy laugh.

Her voice was the kind of sexy that curled around a man’s dick and settled in low. Phone-sex operators only wished they were as gifted. Speaking of sex… If he didn’t get his mind out of the gutter, he’d suffer the consequences. But the forever-horny bastard inside refused to listen and took his thoughts straight to Fantasyland. He was deeply entrenched and almost missed her following words.

“So, are you part of the Mile-High Club?” She gave him an expectant smile.

Caught mid-sip, he choked, spraying the seat back in front of him.

“Excuse me?” he croaked when his throat and lungs stopped burning enough to respond.

She tilted her head. “The Mile-High Club. I’d assume you’d be a member if you fly often. Isn’t that what it’s called when you’re a frequent flyer?”

Oh, sweet, innocent Shonda!

Her curiosity appeared guileless, if a little misguided. After an internal debate about letting it go, Mason decided the question deserved honesty.

“Yes, I am a member,” he replied. “And no, it’s not for frequent flyers.”

He desperately wanted to go a step further and offer to initiate her, but the plane was taking off, and they were a long way from the Islands. Sleep beckoned.

She blinked, and her flash of uncertainty caused him to lean forward and whisper against the shell of her ear, “To be a member means you’ve had sex during a flight.”

Then he sat back and waited.

As soon as his comment registered, her skin flushed.

The sight made him grin.

“Oh my God!”

Shonda was mortified.

Too late.

Shehadheard the term before.