Texas Christmas. Nancy Robards Thompson

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      Chapter Two

      The flight from Paris barely made it to the gate at JFK International Airport in time for Pepper to go through customs, recheck her luggage and catch her connecting flight home. Delays leaving Charles De Gaulle Airport out of Paris had cut it dangerously close for her to catch the red-eye home. Yet, luck was on her side. She was one of the last passengers to board the plane bound for the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.

      Once onboard, she struggled to stash her carry-on in the overhead compartment, astounded that there was still space available at this late hour. Thank goodness Ethan had purchased her a ticket in business class where the seats were generous and they weren’t packed in like sardines.

      The man who was sitting in the seat directly below the compartment she was claiming tossed the black cowboy hat he’d been holding on his lap onto the seat next to him, stood while doing an agile bend and dip to avoid whacking his head on the overhead console and unfolded to his full height in front of her.

      “Here, let me help you with that, ma’am.”

      Ma’am? Only because she detected a slight Texas twang in his speech did she not take offense to him calling her ma’am. Instead, she chose to think, What a gentleman.

      “Thank you,” she said as she looked up into brown eyes as dark and rich as Maya’s chocolates. They contrasted sharply with his spiky, sandy-blond hair. Good-looking guy. Polite, too, she thought.

      And he was tall. Very tall. Probably six-four. The big, manly cowboy variety, with long, jean-clad legs and broad shoulders that flexed underneath his blue oxford cloth shirt as he lifted and stowed the bag in one fluid motion.

      Pepper forced her gaze from the delicious show of muscles and strength, scooted past him and picked up the man’s cowboy hat before she tucked herself into the seat next to the window. When she’d settled herself and glanced out the window she breathed a sigh of relief. Not only had she made the connecting flight, but she was back on U.S. soil. No one in the New York airport had hassled her. Of course, along her sprint to get from customs to her Dallas-bound flight she hadn’t paused long enough for anyone to recognize her and not that anyone would in New York. But it was highly possible that anyone on board this flight might realize she was Harris Merriweather’s daughter and start something.

      But so far so good. Keeping her face toward the window, she heaved another sigh of relief.

      It was good to be home. Or almost, anyway.

      “Sorry, I’ll take that from you,” the male voice said.

      When Pepper looked, he was motioning to the hat.

      “Oh, right, here you go,” she said. “And thanks again for helping me stash the suitcase.”

      As he accepted the hat, there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “No problem.”

      His brow furrowed, and his gaze searched her face.

      Oh, no, here it comes. She braced herself.

      “I’m Rob Macintyre. Have we met?”

      Okay, not as bad as what she’d feared. But she needed to nip this in the bud. “No, I don’t think so, but it’s a pleasure meeting you now.”

      Her brain raced as she tried to think of a diversion, a way to change the subject without being rude or, worse yet, antagonistic.

      It was only a three-hour flight from New York to Dallas, but it could feel like an eternity if things got out of hand.

      Thank goodness the flight attendants began their demonstration on the hows and whys of the emergency exits and oxygen masks. Rob...what did he say his last name was? Macintyre, right.

      Rob Macintyre... It did sound a little familiar... СКАЧАТЬ