Damn. The sound of her saying his name was pure magic.
The speaker crackled and a feminine voice announced, “Attention passengers, we are now boarding first class for Flight 342. First class only, please.”
“Oh, God.” Kayla took a deep breath and stood. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Here we g-go. Are you first class, too?”
He repressed a snort. First class his ass. “’Fraid not.”
“That’s too bad. I could have used some more distracting…or was it flirting?”
He grinned. “You’ll never know now.”
“One of life’s unanswered mysteries, I suppose.” She looked at him one last time, then hiked her purse onto her shoulder. “Hey, thanks for talking to me. It helped take my mind off things. If we somehow manage to walk away from this alive, I’ll say hello to you at baggage claim.”
He never travelled with more than a small carry-on suitcase—something else his overbearing father drilled into his head at a young age—but he’d go to the baggage claim anyway to check on her. Maybe he shouldn’t care so much how a stranger fared through a flight, and yet…he did. “You’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.”
Her expression showed her doubt at his words, but instead of arguing about it, she headed for the desk with nothing but a purse on her shoulder and a ticket on her hand. He watched her walk away, ignoring the sick feeling of inadequacy in his gut. He swallowed hard, wishing he’d shelled out the extra bucks for a first class seat.
The way she spouted out statistics and percentages combined with the elegant way she held herself showed him she was well-off and educated. She’d probably been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a Tiffany rattle in her hand.
She wouldn’t know what to do with a wounded warrior, so it was probably for the best that he wasn’t going to have the chance to talk to her again. He was a failure who couldn’t be counted on to… Well, to do anything.
Only two other people followed her. That meant there had to be at least one seat open in first class. Maybe more. He tapped his fingers on his knee, cursing under his breath. She might be sitting all alone on the plane. There would be no one to babble at when she was nervous. No one to calm her nerves, or make her forget about her fears.
Worried. Scared. Alone.
Damn it. She’d awoken his deeply-repressed urge to protect anyone who needed help, and he couldn’t get the voice in the back of his head to shut the hell up. As she disappeared into the jet bridge, Cooper stood and stalked to the desk. “Excuse me, but is it too late to change my ticket to first class? If it’s available, I’d like the seat directly next to Ms. Moriarity, please.”
The woman at the desk scowled. “We’re boarding, sir. We don’t normally allow changes this close to the flight.”
Cooper smiled his most charming smile. “I understand ma’am, but my friend who just boarded is scared to death. I think the flight will go a lot more smoothly for her—and for the flight attendants—if I can sit next to her.” He shrugged. “You know how jumpy passengers can be.”
She looked at him for a moment and sighed. “Yes, unfortunately, I do.” After punching a few keys on her keyboard, her attention on the screen in front of her, she said, “I can make it happen, but it’ll be three hundred dollars more, sir.”
He pictured his almost empty bank account, but ignored the voice of common sense shouting at him to sit the hell back down. Pulling out his credit card, he slid it across the desk.
Kayla needed someone to distract her from her fears.
She needed him.
Chapter Two
Kayla settled into in her window seat, pulled the tray down, and swiped a Wet One over it. She wasn’t a certified germaphobe or anything, but lots of disgusting things crossed airplane trays. From snotty hands to spilled food…and beyond. How many people had joined the mile high club on this very plane?
She shuddered just thinking about it.
Once she finished cleaning, she got her emergency flight stuff in order. The flight might only be a few hours long, but she’d be spending it with her eyes shut to the world. Sleeping mask? Check. Sleeping pills? Check. Now all she needed was one of those cocktails they offered in first class—she’d already ordered a vodka cranberry—and she’d be done for the night.
When she woke up, she’d be back in North Carolina with her parents, and the real fun could start.
Yeah. Not really.
Every time she saw them, they harped on her. Asked why she hadn’t settled down yet. She’d argue with them, telling them she was young and single and free. And they would proceed to ignore her explanations for her life choices. They did it every visit. It never varied.