Hang on. This is exactly what I wanted, isn’t it? I’m the one who pulled away from sex that last time.
And he owns the damned plane. He can tell them to stay where they are – cocooned in their pilot’s cockpit or the back or whatever they call those compartments stewardesses hang out in. He still can misbehave, and they won’t do a damned thing.
Right?
Nevertheless, after this admission, I find myself relaxing. I recover enough to take more bites out of my halibut, which has been steamed to perfection. Alex knifes his lamb, smiling and watching me.
“Am I really such an ogre, Liz?” he says.
An ogre? A god, more like. I like to think of him as Hermes – the mercurial messenger god.
“Not an ogre. Just remarkably unpredictable.”
“I can live with that.” He tips his handsome head back.
Oh, but I can stare for hours at his profile – at that exquisitely sculptured face and those deep, deep alluring eyes.
Outside, the windows have darkened into night.
“Just where are we going, Alex?”
He flashes me a smile. “Nowhere tonight. But somewhere tomorrow, I hope.”
It sounds like a metaphor.
“Nowhere?”
“We’re just cruising, circling the skies. This is a date thirty thousand feet up.”
Ah yes. I’ve never had a date thirty thousand feet in the sky before.
“Sorry for not having candlelight,” he adds ruefully. “Any form of fire’s not allowed in the cabin.”
I can’t help laughing.
Boy, but Alexander Vassar has a way with him.
11
Sometime after dessert, the plane makes a circuit.
I’ve changed my tomato juice to a margarita, and then a vodka with lime. So I’m a little tipsy and uninhibited. I don’t think I’ve had that much alcohol at one sitting.
I’m relaxed. More relaxed than I have been in a long while. In fact, I’ve kicked off my shoes and I’m now lounging back in my comfortable seat, enjoying its plushness and silky smooth exterior.
Alex is relaxed too. Relaxed enough to remove his jacket, undo two of his top buttons and kick off his shoes. He’s leaning back in his chair and smiling at me.
I say softly, “Why did you ask me out on a date tonight?”
“Because I wanted to see you again.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to see me again? I’m – ” I shrug my shoulders. “I’m a college student moonlighting as a hotel maid.”
“And that makes you different from anybody else? Better?”
I almost choke. “Better? That’s not what I’m implying.”
He brushes a tendril of hair from his brow. “Maybe that’s the trouble, Liz. You don’t accept me for who I am. I, on the other hand, completely acknowledge and accept you for who you are.”
So he’s turning the tables on me.
“Isn’t Tatiana more your type?”
He snorts. “I don’t want girls like Tatiana.”
“Why not? She’s drop dead gorgeous.” Not to mention rich. And probably some sort of European countess, if they still make them.
“Maybe that’s exactly it. I don’t want drop dead gorgeous.”
“And I’m not?” Part of me reels back in dismay. I think I’m getting closer to what all this is about – finally. He’s being a rebel. Running away from his clique. Being everything his parents do not want him to be. Going for a girl from the wrong side of the tracks.
He leans over earnestly. There’s a soft light shining in his eyes, and he is mesmerizingly and beguilingly beautiful. His generous lips stretch upward in wide invitation.
“You are the freshest, most innocent woman I’ve ever met, Elizabeth Turner, and you intrigue me.”
Yes, we are very close now to the revelation.
So I’m different. He wants different.
“You’re beautiful, Liz. You just don’t know it. You hide it underneath that veneer of work and insecurity – ”
“Insecurity!”
“Yes, insecurity. You’re insecure, Liz. You don’t think you are physically attractive, even though you are. You don’t think a guy can desire you for who you are. You’re always looking over your shoulder, looking for ulterior motives in everyone else when there are none.”
I should be outraged. “You hardly know me, and you’re talking to me like this?”
My heart is thudding. How dare he psychoanalyze me? I should storm out of here, except for the fact that we are thirty thousand feet above the ground.
“You asked me why I wanted to see you again, Liz. Is that what you’d ask another college junior in your class? Someone you’d consider your peer?” He makes it sound like it’s a bad word.
“You can’t blame me for being suspicious,” I say in defense.
He takes a deep breath and says in earnest, “I won’t lie to you, Liz. I desire you and your body, and I’m completely captivated by you and how you think. You’re an enigma to me. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day we met. Is that so difficult to believe?”
My pulse is like a beat box in my ears. Alex’s eyes have darkened and his nostrils flare.
Oh my. We’re going someplace I’m not ready for. And I’m not talking about sex.
I grip the armrest.
“Guys like you, Alex, they are not for keeps. Maybe I want something for keeps. Something real from my part of the world.”
“And I’m not real?” A look of hurt actually flits over his face. That look – a flash of vulnerability and pain that glosses across his beautiful features – is so raw and intense that an actual pang sears through me. “Just in case you haven’t noticed, Liz, I’m not some glossy paparazzi photo in a magazine. I’m flesh and blood. I have feelings, just like you. And you are making assumptions about me. You’re discriminating against me.”
“I’m discriminating against you?” Of all the absurd things to say!
“Yes. You’re painting a stereotype of what I should be and that’s unfair.”
I hate to admit this, but he’s right.
He holds his hands up in a gesture of placation. His face has become serene again. The twitch of vulnerability is gone.
“I’m not here to fight with you, Liz. I’m just being brutally honest. I’m attracted to you. Hell, I’m more than attracted to you . . . you have no idea how much.”