Page 4 of Shattered Veil
“Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand but he makes no move to shake it.
“I don’t...like people to touch me. Nothing personal.”
I lower my hand. “None taken. Though doesn’t no touching make sex hard? No pun intended.” God, shut me up. Now!
“I manage.” His wicked smile confirms he has absolutely no difficulty in the sex department.
“Anyway, my name is—”
“Don’twant to know.” His quick retort deflates me and the entire conversation ends abruptly.
Back to Jerk...
The captain makes his announcements, disappointing me with his flat American accent. Although, after six months in Sydney, listening to carbon copies of Hugh Jackman started to get old.
I’m glad to be going home and getting my life back on track. A new job awaits me and my best friends, Hannah and Val, are meeting me for brunch tomorrow. Or is it in two days? Crossing over the international date line confuses the heck out of me.
“Sorry, folks,” the pilot comes back over the loudspeaker. “We’re in for a long wait on the tarmac. I’d tell you how many planes are in front of us, but I can’t count that high.”
“At least he has a sense of humor,” I say. “It must be obscenely high.”
“Don’t need obscene humor. I need to get the hell home.” Jerk pulls out his phone, taps away, then slides it back into his pocket.
“This is the captain, again, folks. Strike my last transmission. We’ve been advanced to number two. Flight attendants, prepare for take-off.”
Jerk closes his eyes and rests his head with a sly grin ghosting his full lips.
What the heck?
Whoisthis guy?
CHAPTER TWO
Ella
Three hours later...
Despite the sexy come-on from Balor before take-off, he’s not said another word to me.
Bummer.
His sleek silver laptop with a brand logo I’ve never seen sits on his tray table. His long, sexy fingers swipe across the stainless-steel keyboard like it’s a piano and he’s Marc-Andre Hamelin.
My laptop isn’t high-end or fancy, but it works well enough to update my resumé with the special ed teaching I did in Sydney. I pray I can get my job back at Fredericks Elementary next fall. Especially after the mess I made.
When the laptop battery craps out, I dig into my bag and panic, realizing my charger is in my checked luggage.
I groan.
“There’s that noise again,” Irish guy mutters. “We have ten more hours to go.”
“Did you say something?” I play dumb.
His fingers stop moving. “You heard me.”
“Do you do this a lot? Openly proposition strange women on planes?”
“Did I proposition you?” He goes back to typing.