Sex Drive. Susan Lyons

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СКАЧАТЬ be out having fun, probably have her cell turned off. Or the battery will have run down because she forgot to charge it.” We shared a moment of silent understanding. “If you do connect with her,” she said, “get her to call me. I’m going to grab a couple more hours sleep, then I’ll be in at work getting things organized.”

      “Tell me about it.” My secretary and I had spent a good part of the last twenty-four hours doing the same thing.

      “Can’t believe we’ll all be in the same place at the same time. It’s been a while.”

      “Christmas the year before last.”

      A loudspeaker voice told the passengers to turn off electronic devices.

      “Kat, I have to go. I’ll check e-mail and voice mail in Honolulu.”

      “Right. Safe flight.”

      As I shut off my cell, I was shaking my head. When my sisters and I had been growing up, there’d been a lot of competitions and petty jealousies. We’d each developed distinct personalities and interests, and those had taken us in different directions. Now, living in four different cities in three countries, we rarely spoke, much less saw each other. Of course we all loved each other, but it was easier for us to love from a distance. It was kind of sad, but that was the way the Fallon girls had turned out.

      Now, thanks to Merilee, we were teaming up for the first time in ages. White lace and promises for her. For the rest of us, a little bit of hell as we tried to make nice—or nice enough—with each other to pull off a wedding in less than two weeks.

      “That’s not the way to start a long trip,” the man beside me said.

      “Sorry?” I turned to look at him and saw a twinkle in his gray eyes.

      2

      Damien Black grinned at the intriguing woman in the seat beside him. The sexy prof who was marking Sydney Uni exam booklets but didn’t have an Australian accent. The woman whose conversation on her mobile had given her a stress headache.

      The literary snob who thought his novels were superficial crap.

      Not that he necessarily disagreed. But, hell, they were fun to write and they were damned lucrative superficial crap. He had the best fucking job in the universe: making up stories, playing with imaginary friends, and getting paid well to do it.

      The prof intrigued him, and not only because she was hot in a subtle, classy way. He wondered how she’d react when she found out he was the guy whose books she’d dissed, but he was going to hold off on satisfying his curiosity. They had a long flight ahead of them, and together they could make it a hell of a lot of fun. But he stood a better chance if she got to know him before she learned his identity.

      “You’ve been shaking your head and heaving sigh after sigh,” he said. “And not drinking your champers.”

      She glanced at his empty glass. “Not a problem you’ve been suffering from, I see.”

      Had to admit, there was a definite appeal to a woman who wasn’t afraid to use her tongue. Banter was a good start. Maybe she’d soften up and think of a friendlier use for that tongue. “Drink up. It’ll help your headache.”

      She frowned. “I don’t have—” Then she winced. “Well, maybe the beginning of one.”

      The flight attendant arrived with the champagne bottle and a big smile. “So sorry, I certainly don’t want to neglect you.” She filled his glass.

      “Ta, Carmen.” The flashy brunette had told him her name when he’d first got on the plane and she’d recognized him.

      She cocked a brow at the prof. “You don’t care for it, Ms. Fallon? Can I get you something else?”

      “No, it’s fine. I was just on the phone.” She held up her closed mobile. “Which is off now, and I’m about to enjoy the champagne.”

      “Good on you,” Carmen said, then gave him a wink before she moved on.

      Yeah, Carmen had gushed all over him when he came on board. She’d made it clear she was available for a little action. Her, and about a hundred other girls in the two years since his first book hit the bestseller lists and he’d become a familiar face on TV talk shows. Not to mention, been voted one of the country’s ten sexiest bachelors.

      The “sexy bachelor” angle had featured prominently in the promo plan his agent and publicist had developed, a fact that at first he’d found humorous but had soon worn thin. This business of women flinging themselves at him had gotten a little old. Truth was, it wasn’t all that flattering when females swarmed all over a bloke just because he was famous and supposed to be sexy. Celebrity had its disadvantages.

      Truth was, the prof interested him more than Carmen. She was a turn-on, with an appealing face that wasn’t caked in makeup, a slim, shapely bod, and boobs that looked to be all her own. Plus, she intrigued him. The woman presented a challenge. Though she clearly wasn’t immune to the physical spark between them, she sure wasn’t throwing herself at him.

      Could he win her over before she found out who he was?

      He held out his glass to her. “Bottoms up, safe trip, don’t let the buggers get you down.” He’d have said “bastards” but figured it might piss her off.

      A chuckle spluttered out of her and her eyes warmed. Those eyes reminded him of the water in a billabong: shades of reddy brown brightened by specks of blue and green, like the reflections of red rocks and trees in blue waters. As with a billabong, a bloke could stare into their depths and lose himself. Especially now, when her amusement made them sparkle as if sunshine dappled the still water.

      She clicked her glass to his. “The buggers?”

      “Whoever’s got you sighing like a high wind through the gum trees.”

      Her lips twisted, more in rue than amusement. “My sister. Actually, all my sisters.” Her eyes widened and he sensed the information had slipped out, laughter creating a chink in her reserve. She glanced away and raised the glass to her lips.

      “Ah. Families. Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em. Easiest to just avoid them.” That was his current strategy with his own family.

      “True.” She gazed into her glass. “But it’s not always possible.”

      “No?”

      She glanced up, eyes narrowing. “I really do need to work.”

      Why was she so intent on keeping him at a distance? He was about to ask when he felt a hand brush his right forearm.

      “Sorry to interrupt,” Carmen purred, not sounding sorry at all. “We’re readying for takeoff. I need you to fold up your tables. You can hang on to your glasses and I’ll be by with more champagne once we’re in the air.”

      He heard a quick swallow on his other side, then the prof extended her glass past him. “I’m finished. You can take this, thanks,” she said coolly. He gathered she hadn’t exactly warmed to their flight attendant.

      “I’ll keep mine,” he said.

      When СКАЧАТЬ