In The Arms Of The Sheikh. Sophie Weston

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СКАЧАТЬ Steady. That was her. Hair in her eyes, she shifted to the right. But he had shifted as well, and somehow she managed to knock her hip into his arm. “Sorry,” she said, breathless. She turned to face him and blew her hair off her face. “These seats are really narrow.”

      He looked more amused than irritated. “I could have just stood up.”

      “I didn’t want to inconvenience you,” she said, bracing herself as the plane lurched again. She stood between his legs, his hands still on her waist. “Shall we dance?” she joked.

      “The only kind of dance I know that starts out like this is a lap dance,” he said wryly.

      Oh, jeez. Her cheeks burned. She did not want him to think she was flirting. “I was thinking more along the lines of the rumba. Clearly we spend our weekends in different ways.”

      Hunter laughed.

      It was the first time he had, and it was a deep, rumbling, pleasant sound.

      Melanie smiled at him. For the first time since Ian had told her he wasn’t getting on that flight with her, she didn’t feel as though she was on the verge of losing it.

      “Lap rumba?” he asked. “It’s all about compromise.”

      “Because I’m so graceful.” She made another move toward her seat and, as if to prove her point, managed to bump his arm on the way by.

      He winced.

      “Oh! Sorry.” Now she was causing him pain. “Are you okay? Did my butt pop your arm out of the socket or something? I’ve always been something of a klutz.”

      Back in her seat at last, she turned to see him shaking his head.

      “It’s just an old injury. Don’t worry about it.”

      “Really? How did you hurt yourself?”

      “I fell out of a Humvee after we hit a mine and broke my arm in four places.”

      She wasn’t exactly well versed in vehicles but she was pretty sure that was what they drove in the military. “Wow, that sounds painful. So you were in the service? How long have you been out?”

      “Three months.”

      That was way more recent than she would have expected. “Oh! So you had a long career, then. What made you decide to leave—your injury?”

      He gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “Are you calling me old?”

      She rolled her eyes. “No. But you’re clearly not twenty-two, either. I just meant it wasn’t as if you did a few years and got out. It was a commitment.”

      “It was. Twelve years. I would still be serving if it wasn’t for my injury. I realized it was time to pack it in. I just turned thirty.”

      There was the rub. Not her comment, but his own fear of aging. Of starting a new life and career and feeling superfluous. “Thirty is the new twenty.”

      “Now you’re calling me immature.”

      But the corner of his mouth turned up.

      “I’m trying to get to know you,” she said, nudging his knee with hers. “Stop being difficult about it.”

      “Why the hell would you want to get to know me? I’m your bodyguard.”

      “You’re my only company for the next seven days.” The look he gave her was so pained she laughed. “Thanks for being so thrilled.” Then a thought occurred to her. “Wait, you are staying the whole time, aren’t you?”

      The thought of him leaving after just a couple of days upset her, and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

      “Yes, I’m staying. But I thought you said you weren’t afraid of Ian’s stalker.”

      “I’m not. I’m afraid of being...bored.” Alone. She was afraid to be alone.

      That was an unnerving thought to have. Was that why she’d been willing to settle for the half-assed attention of Ian Bainbridge? Because having a boyfriend, even one who was never around, was better than not having one at all? God, she wasn’t in middle school anymore.

      She wasn’t that needy. She knew she wasn’t. But she was a woman who thought that she could organize everything in her life, including romance. She lived by lists, and Ian had ticked all the boxes on her checklist of what her ideal partner should be.

      “How can you be bored when you have zip-lining to try?”

      There was that. She wasn’t even going to mention that she’d also signed up for exploring Mayan ruins and horseback riding on the beach. Her credit card must be on fire.

      “You shouldn’t go zip-lining with me with your injury, by the way. I can go by myself.” She didn’t want to guilt her bodyguard into doing something that would set his recovery back.

      “I can go freaking zip-lining. I’m not paralyzed. Hell, even paralyzed I could still do it.”

      Uh-oh. She’d pierced his male pride. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. I was trying to let you off the hook, not imply you’re incapable.” She couldn’t help but add, “And you could reinjure yourself.”

      “I’m fine.” He undid his seat belt and leaned forward.

      “Where are you going?” Melanie asked, suddenly panicking. Was he leaving? Not that he had anywhere to go. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with her thoughts now any more than she wanted to be alone on tourist excursions.

      “I’m taking my jacket off. It’s hotter than hell in here.”

      He sounded irritable.

      “Oh. Here.” She reached up and turned his airflow on.

      “Thanks.” Hunter did his best to shake off his jacket in the tight space.

      It was tempting to help him as he struggled out of it, but she figured his balls might shrivel up and fall off if she did. Why did men feel so emasculated by accepting help? And good God, how tempting was it to touch those arms? He was wearing a light blue dress shirt, so she didn’t have the greatest view of his biceps, but without the jacket it was clear that despite what he’d said, he’d brought the guns. Jeez Louise.

      “So...you didn’t bring any swimwear?” she asked, striving for casual. Any heterosexual woman past puberty and under the age of, oh, death would want to take a gander at him without a shirt. It was just reality, and she wasn’t about to feel guilty about it. Much. It might fall under the category of objectifying him, but at least she wasn’t paying his salary. No boss-employee conflict of interest here.

      Not that she was doing anything other than looking. She was getting to know him. As a potential friend. That was it. She had to remember that and not throw herself at his hard, gorgeous body.

      Damn it. Where was the flight attendant with the service cart? She needed some water.

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