Page 17 of Wrong Score

"An interview. A real one," I tell him firmly, though I know Sam or Phil will force him into it eventually if they have to. Still, I’d rather he come willingly.

"Not a chance," he says, the challenge clear in his eyes.

I won’t back down. Straightening my spine, matching his gaze. "What are you so scared of?"

His brow twitches at the question, but he doesn’t flinch. His intimidation tactic might work on the ice, but it won’t work on me.

And then, he catches me. I see it in the slight shift of his expression, the moment he notices my gaze lingering on his mouth. Ever so subtly, his tongue peeks out to wet his lower lip, and the air between us shifts, thickening.

“Who’s Jordan?” he asks, a flicker of vulnerability I’ve never seen in his eyes before, but he covers it quickly.

Suddenly, the plane lurches violently, causing me to lose my balance and fall sideways against the Stewardess's snack counter and then I lose my balance, stumbling forward. In an instant, Bex's strong arm wraps around my waist, steadying me. I find myself pressed against his chest, my hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as if he's my lifeline.

I hate the way I'm clinging to him as if he's the safest place on this aircraft, but in this moment, he feels like it

"Are you okay?" he asks, searching my body for signs of injury. "Are you hurt at all?"

"No, I’m okay," I tell him, surprised by how his first instinct is to check on me, to make sure I’m alright—even after our heated conversation.

Who is this guy, and where is Bex? Is this a glimpse into the softer side that everyone else seems to know is there but me?

Time seems to stand still as we lock eyes. His eyes soften from irritation to something akin to curiosity as he searches my face. The tension between us shifts, morphing into something electric, maybe even dangerous.

"What the hell are you doing to me, Rowan?" he says.

Before I can process what's happening, Bex's eyes drop to my mouth and I take in a sharp breath, but just as he's bending down to seal his lips with mine, a gasp breaks through our heated moment, stopping him. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize—"

I break away from him, the stewardess shields her eyes but continues her job. There's nothing to see but I'm sure she's seen plenty on her flights.

Finally, Bex glances over his shoulder to see her too, but he doesn't take a single step back from me, as if he plans to keep me here longer.

While he's distracted, I duck under his arm, his hand around my waist, releasing me without putting up a fight. He knows that thealmostkiss was a mistake, just as I do. So why am I the only one fleeing the scene while he doesn't move an inch from where he had me up against the wall?

I push past the stewardess, who's trying to pretend that she didn't see me in the coach's arms as if about to kiss me. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I hurry back to my seat, leaving Bex behind.

He's probably standing there, still trying to process how a fight between us almost turned to more.

As I sink into my chair, pulling my noise-canceling headphones apart and snapping them against my ears as my mind does somersaults over what just happened. My heart is racing at full speed while the rest of my body is thrumming with a need for a man I can't stand.

I hear the pilot come over the inflight speakers as the seat belt sign turns on, letting us know that there is some light turbulence up ahead and that our flight might be a little bumpier than anticipated.

I hear Bex finally walk out from behind the curtain.

His feet stop near the back of my aisle chair.

He bends close to my ear, pulls the one of the headphones back gently and speaks only loud enough for me to hear over the jets.

"Buckle up, Summers, this is about to be a bumpy ride."

Chapter Six

Bex

I stride through the hotel lobby after checking in, my plastic rectangular room key in one hand and my small rolling suitcase trailing behind me in my other hand, with a duffel bag slung over my shoulder. The posh interior of the five-star hotel barely registers as my mind churns with thoughts of the flight—and more specifically, of Rowan Summers.

What the hell was I thinking almost kissing her like that?

The moment replays in my head for the thousandth time since we landed. The way she felt in my arms was soft yet unyielding. The little gasp as I pulled her against me, keeping her from falling. The way she pressed into me, matching my intensity with her own.

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