Page 8 of On the Fly
“Exactly. See? We have to change our procedures.” She met his gaze, and in this weird ricocheting mood shift he wasn’t willing to fully admit to, he was once again back to being glad to have her attention.
He must be getting sick or the stress was getting to him. He wasn’t this guy…ever. He didn’t tease and play with anyone…ever. Ander cleared his throat. “I do. And that’s a far better explanation than my original guess.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t get along with people.” He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face at his well-delivered line. Why did he like to rile her up?
Her quick intake of breath broke the smile free against his will.
“Can I get you something to drink?” a waiter interrupted as Emma’s eyes grew wide and she edged forward in her seat, clearly ready to blast him.
He hadn’t planned on staying. Hell, he hadn’t planned on taking this seat or speaking to anyone else this evening, so he surprised himself when he said, “Yeah, give me a Jack on the rocks, and a refill for her. And some club soda and a new napkin for the spill on her skirt.”
“Sure thing.” The waiter disappeared to do his bidding.
He and Emma stared at each other while she assessed him, and he waited for whatever was about to come.
“So, who are you to Rora Airlines? Before you answer, my money’s on you being Mr. Jorgensen’s grandson, and you should have told me who you were on the plane,” she said, her manicured fingernail pointed her disapproval straight at him. He remembered the feel of that finger as she’d poked him earlier today. Why did that stir something inside him? Aggressive women didn’t appeal to him. He had no time for that. But Emma was different. Not aggressive, per se. But she didn’t back down from a challenge. It intrigued him.Sheintrigued him.
And she didn’t know his position within the company. He gave his own assessing stare, weighing his options. He was certain when he told her the truth that his fun would be done. She was probably the most professional of the bunch and that said a lot with how he’d met her. He chose the route of delaying the inevitable and teased her. “When exactly would I have told you? The three minutes before you passed out on the plane or the fifteen minutes before we landed?”
Her expression reflected how slow she thought he was. She blinked once before saying, “Yes, exactly any of those times.”
“But then I would have missed my moment of you figuring it out when you did and that was a great fun for me. The super calm, cool presence you had while presenting stumbled hard.”
“I did not,” she said in such a way that let him know she totally knew she had.
“Okay.” He got the hard stare of displeasure that caused him to bark out a laugh. “You’re funny.”
She pursed her lips, and he might have only imagined the twitch at the corner of her mouth. But her phone buzzed, drawing her attention away from him again. She lifted it off the table then gave a feminine little grunt at the screen.
“What’s that?” he asked, curious over the scowl on her face. He angled his head toward the screen which she quickly turned away from him.
Emma relaxed back in her chair. “I’ll show you, but I have to set the scene first. My stepsister, Julia, is getting married in Napa this weekend. We’re not super close, but we’re family. And she gave me an out because she knows I don’t fly, but”—Emma bit her lip a second before continuing—“my stepmother wouldn’t hear of it.” She waved a hand through the air as if to cut off her own rambling. “I just got a picture of her bridesmaid dresses.” She flipped the phone around, putting it right in his face. It took a second for him to understand what he was looking at with all the ruffles and bustles and matching umbrellas.
“No way,” he said, taking the phone to zoom in on the details.
“Oh yeah. And while I dodged that particular bullet, I have a trimmed down version to wear, so I don’t ‘upset the balance of the family pictures.’” She said the last bit with dramatic southern flair as if copying the original delivery. She slid a finger across the screen to share another picture. An old-fashioned Southern cotillion-style dress appeared on the screen.
“Oh man, you’re not having the best time of it this week, are you?” He handed her the phone. He took in her conservative skirt and blouse. Nothing about her fit in the style of the upcoming event. “How did you wind up at Rora Airlines if you have such a fear of flying?”
“Life, I guess.” She gave a casual lift of one shoulder. “I met Mr. Jorgensen at a golf tournament, like I told you. He wanted my number to fix me up with one of his sons, but I imagine they’re decades older than me and redirected the conversation. Instead, after chatting for the evening, he offered me a job. Now, answer my question. What do you do for Rora Airlines?”
He didn’t even have a moment to again wonder which of his brothers would suit her better. Time was up. His fun was coming to an end. When he answered her truthfully, she’d pull away from him and put on that cloak of professionalism she’d worn so well in her presentation. Such a shame. He could use her comic relief. Ander said, “I’m one of the new owners. Acting CEO for the time being as we decide how to handle the future of Rora.”
A range of emotions cascaded over her intriguing features before she paled and shook her head, her mouth opening and closing twice before she drew in a breath and said, “But the new owners are Mr. Jorgensen’s children. And you’re…you’re so young.”
Ah, the math wasn’t making sense to her. He could help with that. His dad had been in his late seventies when he’d passed away, but he’d always looked older. “My father was in his forties when I was born. I’m thirty-five and all my many siblings are younger. We inherited the airline along with our mom.”
She groaned. Her shoulders hunched over a second before her forehead hit the table as if all the air had been let out of her. She stayed like that for maybe five full seconds before she drew in a breath, then stood and abruptly gathered her things without a single word. He cataloged her actions but waited to see what she’d do with this new information.
“My life. Holy cow. Of course you’re the CEO. Of course.” With a furrowed brow, she shook her head one last time and walked off, leaving him sitting there. She made it through the door and disappeared down the hall without a backward glance.
The waiter appeared before him again just as Ander debated the soundness of going after Emma. First off, he didn’t tolerate anyone walking away from him. Secondly, and the most important point, something about her disappearing out that door bothered him on a gut level, one he didn’t understand.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
Ander looked down at the table, reaching for his glass. He took a good long drink before he finally shook his head. He’d let her go…for now. “Bring the check.”
