Page 3 of Love Off Course

I recognize The Beatles song immediately and perk up to find the source of the sound. Seconds later, a handsome man strolls out of the hallway and into the space. He’s wearing a pilot’s uniform—black slacks, white button-up shirt, and black tie. Gorgeous, no doubt, but married based on the ring on his finger.

Not that I’m looking.

I have David.

His green eyes meet mine and he grins. “Good morning, miss.” My gaze darts to his nametag.Captain C. Klein.

“When’s departure time, Captain?” I blurt out, edgy from all the nonsense already.

A laugh escapes him. “Soon enough. Just waiting on my co-pilot.” He continues to whistle as he walks over to the obnoxious group of people. “He’ll let you know when it’s time.”

Ugh.

I roll my eyes and down the rest of my cappuccino before tossing it in the bin. My eyes slide over to the clock on the wall—one, two, three times in a matter of seconds. This is ridiculous. We should be leaving by now.

David is waiting on me.

At least I hope he is.

Without the pressures of running a multi-billion dollar company, we can relax and get to know each other better. We’ll order the resort’s finest red wine and talk late into the night while sitting under the stars. David will take me to bed again, and finally ask me to marry?—

“Yo también te extraño, Mamá,” a deep voice rumbles, cutting through my usual David fantasy. “Regresaré a casa pronto. Lo prometo.”

The voice is rich and gravelly. Slightly playful.

As soon as the owner of said voice steps out of the hallway, my heart stutters in my chest. Jesus, what a fine specimen of a man. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, black hair. His outfit is the same as the captain’s and he wears it just as well. It fits him in all the right places. The Latino man has a phone pressed to his ear, wearing a half smile. When he feels eyes on him, he darts his nearly black eyes my way, pinning me in place. Unfamiliar heat floods through me and I don’t like it. As though clued into my thoughts, he lazily roams his eyes down my body, lingering at my breasts that are heaving in my white notched collar poplin blouse.

“Yo también te amo, Mamá,” he says in a gentle voice. “Adiós.”

He hangs up the phone before sliding it into his front pocket that stretches over his clearly muscular chest. His nametag readsFirst Officer C. Zaragoza. A dark eyebrow lifts as he smirks at me. Bastard knows he’s hot.

Gross.

I know his kind and I’m not interested.

“Do you speak English?” I blurt out, already over his good looks and ready to move this whole day along.

The smug look melts away and his jaw clenches. “¿Hablas español?”

Great, so that’s a no.

“Right, so um,” I start, making my voice louder so he’ll understand. “I need to get to Costa Rica.” I lift both brows and widen my eyes, waiting for him to acknowledge that we’re on the same page. “Costa. Rica. Er,¿comprende?”

His dark eyes narrow. “Entiendo, señora.”He nods.“Lo que no entiendo es por qué tiene que hablar tan alto. No soy sordo.”

I shoot a look over at Captain Klein, but he’s laughing with his new friends. Ugh. Can this day get any worse?

“I”—I point to my chest—“need you”—I point to his chest—“to fly me to Costa Rica. Now.”

My finger is once again pointed to my chest and his eyes linger at my breasts again. Oh my God. This is why I’m after a mature man. They don’t do this.

“Costa?” he says slowly and in a thick accent.

“Rica,” I finish.

“Costa Rica?”

“Yes, Costa Rica.”

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