![]() One Bossy Dare
-- EXCERPT: Before I even turn around, I know. I can smell him. Earth, citrus, a hint of espresso, and overpowering alpha male. “You just can’t sit still, huh? You had to take over the flight attendant’s job?” His voice is a low rumble, a purr that plucks at my nerves. The attendant rounds the corner and gasps. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir! I offered to do it, but she said she wanted the experience. I didn’t see the harm…” “Guilty,” I say without looking at him. “I couldn’t pass up a chance to join the coffee mile-high club.” His eyes flash with a wicked gleam when I realize my mistake. “Are you done bothering me, Mr. Lancaster?” He smirks at the flight attendant. “It’s fine. I know how Eliza gets.” What? He doesn’t even know me. Why is he acting so familiar? First the flirting, and now this? Did he really bring me on this trip for the sake of coffee science? What do I know about Kona beans, anyway? I’ve never picked them by hand. The sudden crisis of confidence hits like a Mack truck. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ve got this. I think we’re the only people left without coffee,” I say, ignoring how he squeezes into the tight space next to me. Lancaster doesn’t move. If anything, he inches closer, watching how I tremble every time he brushes me and--oh, God. He’s enjoying this, isn’t he? When I grab the new carafe, I almost elbow him in the gut on my way out. “Do you mind? Like I said, I’ve got this.” His look reminds me how very little I’ve got anything when it comes to self-control. I almost drop the coffee container on the floor. When his hand darts around my wrist, I almost hit the ceiling. I’m barely breathing as he moves his fingers slowly up my hand, gently lifting the carafe away from me. “You’re shaking like a leaf with a container of hot liquid. Are you sure you don’t need a hand? Serving coffee isn’t below my pay grade, sweetheart,” he whispers. Dear Lord. I shake my head fiercely, until he gives up the carafe again when I reach for it, touching his fingers. For the faintest second, my hip brushes his. “I can handle my coffee, Mr. Lancaster, but…but thanks.” And because I can still feel his breath when he’s so achingly close, I add, “It’s not as hard as I thought it would be.” He clears his throat loudly. At first, my mangled words don’t register. Shocked that this self-possessed man seems so flustered, I replay the last two lines in my head. Oh. Shit. It hits me what that must have sounded like. Double entendre? More like death warrant. ![]()
GIVEAWAY!
1 Comment
Sue G.
7/9/2022 10:03:44 am
This sounds so fun! Great excerpt! Loved the sassy banter!
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