Page 23 of The Billionaire's Catch

“Please do.” She winced. Why did he make all sense jump out the window and sky dive to the distant ground? Still, she couldn’t deny him, not when his condition was her fault. “Of course not. I’d take off my shirt, too, if I were you.”

His eyes darkened.

“I mean if I was a man,” she quickly clarified. “I wouldn’t now because I’m a woman and then you’d see...” She tilted her head back, closed and opened her eyes. “How do you make me say these things?”

“This is my fault?”

“Affirmative.” She rubbed her head. “Take off your shirt. I don’t want you to get sick.”

He pulled off his shirt, and just as quickly, all humor dissipated. Still, she pretended she didn’t notice…

The tanned skin.

The expansive chest.

The rippling muscles.

He put his hands on his jeans, and her heart stumbled. He stilled, tracked where her eyes had wandered. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re not going to…” She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t share where her mind had journeyed. But she sure could imagine it.

“Not going to what?”

Her gaze darted once more down to his jeans.

The smile started out small, then widened and widened and widened. “I think it’s best if I keep those on, don’t you?”

Not really, her traitorous mind responded. The disappointment was stark as he sat back, flexing his chest. Still damp, his skin glistened in the amber light.

She had to get ahold of herself. “I’m sorry for spilling the water.”

“Don’t worry. It was just another fortunate, not-so-accident.”

She opened her mouth to respond when suddenly the plane turned tipsy-turvy again, apparently realizing the show was over. She almost welcomed the distraction the nausea brought.

He frowned. “Still not feeling well?” He reached into his bag and pulled out his cell phone and a pair of ear buds. “Maybe this will distract you. You can close your eyes and relax.”

She started to say no when another wave of sickness hit. Perhaps listening to music and drowning out the noise of the plane would help. “What’s on it?”

“Heavy metal. Should be nice and calming.”

She rolled her eyes. “No thanks.”

“Just kidding. Here.” He handed the earbuds to her. His hand lingered on her cheek, as he caressed the sensitive spot with the pad of his finger. A moment later he reluctantly moved away. He switched on the track, and the soft tones of classical music filled her ears, dampening the roaring engine and soothing her nerves. As the tension left her body, the nausea eased slightly.

“Classical music?” she murmured. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“There’s no substitute for the masters. It relaxes me before every game.” He gave her a gentle nudge. “Didn’t I warn you about making assumptions?”

Yes, he did. What else had she misinterpreted about Jason Sterling? “You surprised me.”

“You, too,” he replied honestly. “And I don’t just mean the incidents. Believe it or not, I understand what you’re trying to accomplish with the team. And I don’t entirely disagree.”

“You don’t?” She took a deep breath as the nausea receded under the beautiful melody. “Then why don’t you cooperate?”

“Like I said before, there may be a way for both of us to get what we want.” He held up his hand before she could ask. “Right now, let’s focus on getting you better. We’ll talk about it later.”

She wanted to argue, but no doubt the obstinate ballplayer wouldn’t change his mind. So instead she leaned back in her chair. “I’m just going to shut my eyes for a minute.”

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