Page 1 of Something Borrowed
Chapter One
Lark
Flying always makes me nervous.
Ironic considering I once wanted to be a stewardess. Or a flight attendant, I suppose they would be called now. On a flight to Europe for my honeymoon twenty years ago, it was clear I could never wear the cute hat or wings to fly across the world. I was jet lagged on our first night in Paris. Not something my late husband let me live down.
With my nose in a book, I pretend I am anywhere but on a plane to an island. Heart Harbor is supposed to be beautiful, Benji said. His destination wedding there will be perfect, he claimed. Smiling, I recall him trying on his tux a few days ago, so excited to get married, and I sigh. Itwillbe perfect.
Ignore the twist of fear in my gut, I focus on the romance novel I am trying to get lost in. Romance stories have always been my favorite escape. I can go back to the golden age of romance or read about the sensual mafia bosses. Whatever I am in the mood for, I find in the pages of a romance.
Too bad it is the one source of romance in my life.
“That is a good one,” a deep voice startles me, my eyes flying up in guilt as I try to hide the cover. I nearly drop the book in my haste. Not trying to hide it. Because I am stunned by the man in front of me.
Standing so tall he has to bend to fit beneath the overhead baggage compartments, he blocks out everything else. Not because he is huge. He is the most handsome man I have ever seen. Sparkling blue eyes lit with mischief and a crooked smile flashing perfect teeth, he is exactly the sort of man I read about in my romances.
Leaning down, he smirks as he nods at the book I amclutching to my chest. I flush hot, my entire face aflame as I wish I could hide myself along with the filthy book. It is a good one, he was not wrong. About an Irish sailor finding his true love in a small seaport town, all at the flip of a coin. Peering back up at him, I find my heart is thundering in my chest as I bite back a smile.
“Yes, yes, it is a good one. I ought to be ashamed to be reading it at my age. I can’t help myself. I love a good happy ever after I suppose.”
Nodding, he moves to sit beside me. He takes up the entire space between us. Not with his big body, thick arms, and powerful thighs, but with himself. His presence. The air fills with warmth, with a spicy, leather scent. I find myself leaning closer, as if drawn to both against my will.
“We all want a happy ever after, don’t we?” His voice is soft, as if we’re sharing a secret, with the slightest Londoner’s lilt.
Why am I so hot right now? What is going on with me? My hand comes to my throat where my pulse thrums beneath my fingertips. Am I having a panic attack? Is that what this? Dizzied, drunk, and disarmed. I cannot tear my gaze from his. Well, not until his tongue comes out, dragging deliciously slowly across his full bottom lip.
“Yes, we do. Have you gotten to them and the jukebox?” He wonders, grinning at me as he settles in close beside me.
Blinking, I pull back as I am hit with a wave of reality. This man must be about the same age as my son. Much too young for me to be thinking all I am thinking. There is something smoldering in his eyes as they shift over me. That gaze is heavy, intrusive, appreciative as it slides over me slowly.
“N-no, I have not. Pardon me,” I clear my throat as my words come out choked.
“Oh, don’t be shy, love,” his voice dips impossible low, hishand coming out to touch my chin, tipping it up. “Nothing wrong with wanting a bit of spice in our life, is there?”
Flushing hot, I try to pull back from his touch. In my head at least, I am pulling back, being demure, being appropriate. What my body does is of its own accord. I lean closer to his warmth, to that delicious spicy smell, my senses buzzing all at once. I am attracted to this young man in a way I have never felt before.
It’s a fluke, I am certain of it. Brought on by the spicy book I am reading, the idea of being on my way to watch my little boy become a husband while I am painfully alone, and my resounding loneliness. I am seeking something anywhere I can find it.
“I meant... pardon me,” I whisper again, waving the book at him to tell him I am otherwise occupied. Turning away with a shake of my shoulders and a straightening of my spine, I burrow into the book again.
Settling in beside me, he lets out a dark chuckle that makes me shift in my seat. My skirt feels too tight on my thighs. The lace panties I was brave enough to wear rub against my sex as I cross and uncross my legs. I read for a few moments in silence, but I barely comprehend the words.
“You ought to read the rest in that series,” he speaks up as if he cannot help himself, nodding at the book. “There is even one with some pirates.”
Glancing his way, I watch him waggle his brows and I can’t help it, I laugh. Setting the book down, I nod. I am very aware of the pirate romance he mentioned. I am looking forward to it, but I have a few more in this series to get there. Impressed he seems aware of the author’s works, I smile.
“You do not look the type to read this sort of...well, smut.”
“Oh, love, Iadoresmut,” he deepens his voice again, leaning closer as he pulls his bottom lip in a little. “The moment Isaw you holding that book, I knew we would make great friends. I am Lawson, yes from London so you do not need to pretend not to notice the accent. Headed to Heart Harbor for a wedding. I am thrilled I can talk all things smut on the way there with a beautiful woman who is not ashamed to read smut so openly.”
“Where in London? I am not exactlynotashamed,” I reply with a little laugh, hiding the book in the folds of my skirt. “I was reading a very good part when you caught me. I am going for a wedding as well.”
“Tell me your name, love,” he whispers in a way that has me thinking very smutty things about him again.
“L-Lark. What a coincidence we’re both going for a wedding.”
“Well, I’d have thought the same thing, except I found there will bethreeweddings on the island this weekend. Should we make a weekend of it, Lark? Go to all three?”
