Page 80 of Hot Pursuit
@Sprinkle-Ella: I tried…and I failed. I haven’t had those in FOREVER!
@TheGourmetGoddess: Okay, even my mouth is watering a little.
@Sprinkle-Ella: Do my eyes deceive me? What did I just read?
@TheBakingBandit: No one can deny the power of the cinnamon-sugar pretzel bite!
@TheBakingBandit: How’s the conference going, by the way?
@TheGourmetGoddess: Amazing! Exhausting, but amazing! Today is the last day of the food tents, I’m just finishing my setup now. There’s a place a few rows down with the most incredible coffee, so I’m walking over to get some much-needed caffeine before the doors open in an hour.
@Sprinkle-Ella: What are you making?
@TheGourmetGoddess: Felt like my table was lacking a little yesterday, so I stayed up all night putting together a chocolate display of the New York skyline—thank god I brought some molds with me! Finished it off with some spun sugar and some edible glitter, looks great. Pastries are the same as yesterday, mini crème brûlée, assorted macaroons, and éclairs—my favorite! Wanted to go traditional French with a flair, shifted some of the flavors around so they were more surprising, but with so many reviewers and masters in the room, I didn’t want to go too far outside of my comfort zone.
@Sprinkle-Ella: Yum! Sounds amazing! I know they’ll all be impressed!
@TheBakingBandit: Ugh, your éclairs! I still can’t get that freaking recipe you sent me right even though I’ve tried a million times. My inside always ends up too runny.
@TheGourmetGoddess: Send me a pic next time you make them! You might not be poking the hole right to let the steam out. Took me forever to get that part just so.
@Sprinkle-Ella: Send us some photos from the conference! Sounds so exciting! I have to go. Meeting with some clients. Woman wants a perfect princess wedding cake overflowing with buttercream flowers. My dream!
@TheBakingBandit: Welcome back to the land of color!
A call for boarding jolted Jo from her phone, pulling her back into the real world. She quickly finished saying goodbye and shoved another nugget into her mouth before sliding her ticket from her purse. First class boarded, well, first, so it wasn’t long before she was at seat 1A, getting situated. Jo always loved the legroom of the front row. The only downside was it meant she had to put her bag in the overhead compartment, so before she sat, she took out everything she thought she might need for her flight—her computer, her charger, the flash drive that still felt hot to the touch, a bag of M&M’s, a Snickers bar, a diet Coke, and the rest of her pretzel nuggets.
With a deep breath, Jo sat down, unable to stop her legs from bouncing, her heart from pounding, her insides from twisting into tightly bound knots. Theclickof her seat belt sounded more like a lock sliding into place. The curved walls of the plane closed in. There was nowhere else to run, nowhere else to go. The computer on her lap might as well have weighed a thousand pounds for how thoroughly it held her down, held her trapped. Jo arranged the items on her lap. Rearranged them. Her fingers twitched. Her movements jerked. Her entire body fidgeted with unease.
Stop.
Jo curled her fingers into fists, clenching for a moment, before gently flattening them against the leather seat. She lifted her gaze and turned her head, searching for some sort of distraction. Almost immediately, she locked eyes with the man sitting across the aisle, judgment etched into his features. He’d been staring at her. Legit staring. Thick brows. Dark hazel eyes. Cleanly shaven cheeks. Hair buzzed close to his scalp. All of it turned on her with unabashed disapproval…unless she was just imagining the slight curl to his lips, the subtle sneer?
Jo held his gaze and lifted a nugget to her mouth, careful to lick every speck of sugar from her lips as she took her time chewing.
Go ahead and stare, asshole.
I paid for my seat, same as you.
And I’ll do whatever I damn well please, especially when I’m in a crisis.
Jo narrowed her eyes, not at all in the mood.
He coughed and looked away, straight ahead at the gray wall.
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
“Can I get you anything?” a flight attendant asked, holding a tray of water, wine, and orange juice.
The man just grunted, his deep voice resembling tires on gravel, rude and gruff. Jo looked up, meeting eyes with the flight attendant, sharing that look that only two women could possibly understand when a man was being a complete jerk. Jo rolled her eyes. The stewardess tried to stifle a smile. And then Jo took a glass of water from the tray—hydration was key when consuming the amount of sugar she’d planned on consuming to get through reading these files.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The man was still staring as the flight attendant walked by, but this time it was subtler, out of the corners of his eyes, just creepy enough to make Jo’s hackles rise. His arms were crossed over his chest and he hunched low in his seat, legs stretched as far out as they could go. His gaze was cast low, locked on her lap, on her carefully arranged selection of sweets.
Or is it?Jo swallowed, glancing back toward her thighs, mind going to the black laptop and the flash drive resting on top. Could he be staring at those?
