Page 4 of You Complicate Me

“Oh, God.”

He laughed as her forehead hit the table again. “Seriously, Grace, don’t be embarrassed. I doubt I could’ve handled two tequilas, a glass of wine, and two Valiums—and I’m eight inches taller and sixty pounds heavier than you.”

“I’m sure you’re just saying that to make me feel better, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She lifted her head and glanced down at herself, just then seeming to notice that her slumped posture put a healthy amount of cleavage on display. “Jesus,” she muttered. “You couldn’t have told me my breasts are on the table?”

He probably should have. A gentleman would have. But Nick wasn’t much of a gentleman, and her breasts on the table were the best thing he’d seen all day, so he kept his mouth shut.

Grace rolled her eyes. “This is why I’m off men,” she said to no one in particular.

He leaned forward. “Giving girls a try?” he asked, injecting a hopeful note in his voice.

“Ugh. No.”

“Well, that’s just disappointing.” He shot her another grin as she frowned at him.

“Am I being charged with anything?”

He shook his head. “Honestly, I wasn’t even officially on duty on that flight, and I feel a little bad about the whole thing. I shouldn’t have suggested the alcohol. Not my most professional moment, you know? I really am sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve known better. I panicked.”

She had a really great voice, he noticed. Sweet and low-pitched, whiskey-smooth. “Did you rent a car for the trip to River Oak, or is someone coming to get you?”

Grace blinked at him. “How do you know where I’m going?” Then her eyes widened, and she asked, incredulous, “Does the Department of Homeland Security know where everyone on the plane is going?”

He laughed. “No, Grace. We don’t know everyone’s travel plans. I just happen to know yours.”

“How?”

“Guess you were too panicked on the flight to pick up on my last name.”

He could practically see the wheels turning in that pretty little head of hers. When the truth hit her, she groaned and dropped her head back to her hands. “Jesus Christ. Really?”

Nick leaned forward and smirked as he held out his hand. “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Nick O’Connor, and in a week, I’m going to be your brother-in-law. Can I call you sis?”

Chapter Three

Sweet merciful crap.

Grace was still struggling with the realization that she’d been carried off a plane by an air marshal. An air marshal whose sister was marrying her little brother. An air marshal she’d be seeing at every major family gathering until the end of time—or at least until the crazy kids who were getting married way too young got a divorce.

But all that wasn’t even nearly as embarrassing as the X-rated Wolverine fantasies she’d had about Nick O’Connor since she elbowed him in the eye. And yes, that was fantasies, as in plural.

Now, in the passenger seat of a rented Escape that sounded like it was begging for mercy every time Nick hit the gas, heading into deadlocked traffic on what was obviously the highway of the damned, Grace contemplated why she’d agreed when he suggested they ride together. She decided to blame the residual tequila/wine/Valium in her bloodstream for this misstep in her normally impeccable judgment.

Well, okay, her judgment wasn’t impeccable. But hell, it wasn’t usually this bad.

“It’s not all that bad, you know.”

She jumped at the sound of his voice. “Beg pardon?”

He glanced over at her, then back at the line of cars in front of them. “You look completely forlorn over there. So you had a few Wolverine fantasies about your future brother-in-law. So what? It’s not like we’re blood relation.”

Grace was pretty sure her jaw hit the Escape’s leather seat. “What?” she screeched.

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