Page 39 of Lethal Threat
He speaks in a voice meant just for me. “Don’t be long, sweetness. We’ll be landing soon.”
When his hand falls away, I leap out of the aisle and almost do a header into the guy across the way. The older man sputters and snaps his newspaper.
“I am really sorry. I lost my footing.” With a grimace on my face, I scramble away.
Oh my god.Cole Strong is trouble.
Sweetness.My heart palpates as I sway in the aisle and jerk my shirt down into its place.
This girl has clearly won the fiancé jackpot, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less freaked out about not remembering a single thing about the man.
Behind me, I hear Cole’s husky laugh as I stumble away.
Sexy devil.
The heat from his eyes scorches me all the way to the back of the plane, where I throw myself into the lavatory.
Chapter Fourteen
COLE
I’ve only hustled through an airport faster one time—this morning. Now is a close second.
Sierra plants her feet as she tugs at my arm. “Is there a horde of angry passengers chasing us?”
I glance around. Definitely no hordes in sight. I’m frowning anyway. “It’s late. We’ve still got a long drive.”
I’m still not sure if I’m running from what happened on the plane where I sprung a boner like a damned teenager, or whether I’m dragging Sierra along so we can get to the house.
She frowns at me. “Maybe I should have asked if they could serve Wheaties on the plane.”
Damn. My stride slows as guilt hits me. She’s got me all worked up. I was so wrapped around the axle about how good she felt in my hands that I went storming off the plane like a moron.
I didn’t even think she might need another wheelchair ride. What kind of person with medical training does that?
Idiots, apparently. I soften my voice. “Sorry, I was beating feet. Are you hungry?”
As she repositions her ponytail, she moves closer to me to avoid a woman with a suitcase. “A little hungry, but more tired. It’s just been a long day. It’s no big deal.”
I correct her. “It is a big deal.”
Much to my frustration, it looks like all the food places in the airport have metal grates over their entrances.
I glance at my watch. It’s late. “We can stop as soon as we get out of here and get you some real food.”
“Don’t worry, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.” She waves a dismissive hand.
“I do worry. It was also lame of me not to get you a wheelchair. I can do that now. But first let me dig out a couple of bars that I have in my bag.”
A look of resolve hits her face. “No wheelchair, please. I didn’t need it at the hospital, but I had the impression you’d be a pain in the rear.”
Kicking myself, I navigate us to the edge of the walkway, out of the flow of traffic. As we cut through the crowd, I drag my ringing phone out of my jeans pocket.
“Marshall, hang on for a second.” Pinning my phone against my shoulder, I offer Sierra the two bars from my backpack. “Peanut Butter or White Chocolate Macadamia?”
Her brows go up. “Uh… I don’t know.”
I rip open one and pass it to her. “Taste test. If you don’t like it, I’ll eat it.”
