Page 4 of Mile High Baby

"Thank you." I made my way up the aisle toward my seat assignment.

If the only seat option on the plane had been regular class, I would have taken it, simply because my father was in such distress. But I was very excited to have a first-class seat. I wasn't one of those size-one skinny Minnies. I was what my grandmother had calledbig-boned. Personally, I thought my bones were probably the same size as every other five-foot-five woman. My curves came from loving food. Like many young girls, as a high schooler, my weight bothered me. Cutting carbs, intermittent fasting, and running three miles a day got me down to a size six, but I was miserable. The idea of spending the rest of my life not having San Francisco sourdough bread, or homemade Italian pasta, didn't sit well. I'd since discovered that there were plenty of men who liked women who weren't constantly worried about their weight and had curves. All that to say that I was a bigger girl and liked having the extra space that first-class seats afforded me.

I reached my seat and put my bag overhead.

"We're getting ready to take off, but once we’re airborne, is there a drink I can get you?" Free drinks were another perk of first class.

“Cola and vodka?”

He gave me a nod and went back to the steward area.

I looked across the seats to see the gentleman sitting by the window. His profile, with his cropped silver hair and lines around his eyes, was the epitome of the distinguished gentleman. My father was like that. In fact, I had girlfriends who often commented on how they wouldn't mind taking my father for a ride. He gave a whole new meaning to the word filth, or in this case, FILF. Every time they said it, it made me cringe. It was my dad they were talking about fucking.

I suppose I could see the attraction of an older man, other than my dad, but that had never been my type.

The man's head turned as I moved to sit next to him. Wow. For an older man, he was hot. He had pale blue eyes and tanned skin. There was an edge or intensity to him that made me think of James Bond, the Daniel Craig version. Hot but lethal. I wouldn’t deny that my girly parts took notice.

His eyes scanned me up and down, and when they returned to my face, he gave a slight smile and then turned his head back out the window.

I guess he wasn’t into younger, bigger women. Or maybe it was that I was dressed like a college student during finals week. I had on a pair of old jeans with a rip in the knee and a plain white T-shirt over which I wore an oversized button down shirt that had my company’s logo on the pocket. I didn't have on any makeup, and my long, dark hair was pulled up into a messy knot on my head.

I sat and put my belt on and then leaned back, letting out a breath. Whew. I'd made it.

"You nearly missed the flight."

The man's voice was dark yet velvety. How weird that I would notice that.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. "I wasn't planning on flying back to the States today."

"What were you planning on?"

I shrugged. "I was planning on heading up to the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Maybe take a look at the fairy pools."

He arched a brow, intrigued. "Have you been there before?"

I shook my head. "Nope. That's why I was thinking about going there. I've done most of the regular stuff in the UK. Now I'm trying to get to things I've never visited before."

"It's beautiful up there."

This time, I was the one arching a brow in intrigue. "You've been there?"

"There aren’t many places in this world that I haven't been."

I studied him, noting that there was an air of money around him despite the raw intensity. I wondered if he was one of those billionaire playboys who was spending family money and making the world his playground. I didn't have anything against that lifestyle, per se. I definitely could live like that. But it seemed like life needed purpose, so I was glad to have started my business that allowed me to do both. Maybe he had a business that allowed it too.

"I’m Victoria,” I said, holding out my hand, since it appeared we might be plane buddies.

“Sterling.” He shook my hand.

It was hard not to notice how warm his hand was. And his fingers were long and strong. I wondered if he rock climbed. “Are you heading back to the States for fun? More travel adventures?"

He shook his head. "Going back to help a friend. Depending on how long that takes, I might swing back and up to Iceland. If not on this trip, then another."

"Iceland?"

"Some of the most beautiful scenery you'll ever see. Plus, they've got magnificent geothermal spas."

That did sound fun. I pulled out my phone, typing myself a note to research Iceland and geothermal spas. Then I checked to make sure that my phone was on airplane mode as the plane pulled away from the gate.