Page 51 of One Hot Chase

"That's quite a promise. Now let's see if you can follow through."

I turn and disappear into the crowd, my heart pounding. As I weave through the throngs of people, I search for the familiar face of a certain Brit. I wonder if Declan will come up behind me, armed with his patented sexy sarcasm. But he's nowhere in sight.

I flag down a taxi and hop in, giving the driver directions to the airport in my best attempt at Hungarian. Okay, yeah, that means I speak very slowly in English until the driver gets annoyed when I wave a picture of the airport at him. As we pull away from the curb, I allow myself a small smile of triumph. I may have won this round, but I know Declan won't give up easily.

At the airport, I breeze through security and make my way to the gate. Just as I'm about to board Diana's jet, my phone buzzes with a text. It's Declan.

Safe travels, fair Sabrina. I'll see you soon.

Damn. How does he always manage to get the last word? It's impressive.

As I settle into my seat on the jet, I replay our encounter in my mind. The way Declan's arms felt around me, the intensity in his eyes, the promise of what could have been if I'd let it happen...I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. This game we're playing is dangerous, and not just because of the globe-trotting pursuit.

The jet takes off, and I watch Budapest shrink beneath us. Part of me wonders if Declan is down there somewhere, plotting his next move. Deep down, I hope he is.

"Still heading for Paris, Miss Remington?" the co-pilot asks.

I jump a little since I hadn't even noticed when he approached my seat. His question makes me stop and think for a moment. Where do I want to go? Though I had planned to head to Paris next, now I'm not so sure. Declan's always been good at predicting my moves, and I don't want to make it too easy for him.

Then an idea strikes me like a baseball to the head. "You know what? Let's shake things up a bit. How about we head to Marrakesh instead?"

The co-pilot nods, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Very good, Miss Remington. I'll inform the captain."

As he walks away, I settle back into my seat, feeling quite pleased with myself. Marrakesh should throw Declan off my trail for a while. The vibrant colors, the bustling souks, the exotic scents---it's the perfect place to lose myself. And if Declan does manage to find me there...Well, I can think of worse places for our next encounter.

I pull out my phone, tempted to send Declan a cryptic message, but I resist. The less information he has, the more fun this will be. Instead, I shoot a quick text to my sister.

Change of plans. Heading to Marrakesh instead of Paris. Don't tell anyone!

Tabby's reply comes almost instantly. Ooh, mysterious! Have fun and stay safe. Love you.

I smile, grateful for my sister's unwavering support. As much as I love my globe-trotting game with Declan, I feel a twinge of guilt. Tabby's wedding is coming up soon, and here I am, gallivanting across the world with a man I can't seem to commit to.

What?! I jerk upright in my seat, suddenly struck by a cold panic. Commit to Declan? I barely know the man. He's yummy and incredible in bed, but I cannot ever marry anyone. Never again. But why did that thought slam into my mind? It doesn't mean anything.

The jet levels off, and I order a glass of champagne to calm my nerves. As I sip the bubbly liquid, I let my mind wander back to Declan. Those delicious muscles, that devilish smirk, the way his strong hands felt on my body...

I shake my head, desperately trying to dispel the images. This is exactly why I need to put some distance between us. Declan Wilde is dangerous---not just because of his ability to knock me off kilter, but also because of the way he can so easily talk me into doing crazy, amazing things. And the way he makes me feel as if I could actually trust a man again. Like I could fall...

No. I can't go there. Not after what happened with Peter.

I drain my champagne glass and signal for another. As the co-pilot refills it, I pull out my laptop, determined to distract myself with work. There are always insurance policies to review, risk assessments to complete. Boring, safe, predictable work---exactly what I need right now.

But as I stare at the screen, the words blur together. My mind keeps drifting back to Declan, to the way his eyes lit up when he found me in the market. The thrill of our cat and mouse game pulses through me, making it impossible to focus on actuarial tables and policy exclusions.

With a frustrated sigh, I snap my laptop shut. Who am I kidding? There's no way I can concentrate on work right now, not with the memory of Declan's touch still burning on my skin.

I gaze out the window at the endless expanse of sky as we soar over eastern Europe, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Part of me wonders if I'm making a mistake, running away to Marrakesh instead of letting things play out with Declan. But another part, the part that still bears the scars from my failed marriage, reminds me why I can't let myself get too close.

As the jet soars over the Mediterranean, I try to focus on the excitement of exploring Marrakesh. The vibrant colors, exotic scents, and bustling souks---medieval marketplaces that I'd love to check out---will be a welcome distraction. Plus, I've always wanted to stay in one of those luxurious riads in the old medina. Okay, maybe I read some articles online and used an online translation thingy to learn just enough Arabic to get by. But even as I picture myself sipping mint tea on a rooftop terrace, Declan's face keeps popping into my mind. That tousled dark hair, those luscious lips...

"Get it together, Sabrina," I mutter to myself, earning a curious glance from the co-pilot.

I flash him an apologetic smile and decide to get some sleep. Maybe a nap will help clear my head. As I recline my seat, I imagine what Declan might be doing right now. Is he still in Budapest, trying to figure out where I am?

When I wake up, the plane has already begun its descent into Marrakesh. Blinking away the last remnants of sleep, I peer out the window at the sprawling city below, a patchwork of terracotta rooftops and winding alleyways. The late afternoon sun bathes everything in a golden glow, and I feel a flutter of excitement in my chest.

As we touch down, I gather my belongings and thank the crew. The blast of toasty air that hits me as I step off the plane is a stark contrast to the cool air conditioning of the jet. I take a deep breath, inhaling the desert air.

---