Page 1 of Mine to Keep

PROLOGUE

KATE

Irush through the crowded terminal, my heels clicking against the polished floor, as I frantically check my phone for updates on my missed flight.

“Ugh, how could I be so late?” I mutter under my breath, weaving through the chaotic sea of people. My frustration mounts, but I’m determined to find a solution. After all, nothing’s ever been handed to me on a silver platter. I’ve always had to fight for what I want.

I’m supposed to be sitting on a beach right now in Saint Lucia, sipping pina coladas with my toes buried in the sand. A last-minute getaway with my friends before we have to be real adults and start our new jobs. While they’re all ogling hot cabana boys beneath the tropical sun, I’m stuck in Miami, having missed my flight after being delayed at LaGuardia.

This sucks.

As I approach the airline counter, a sexy stranger catches my eye. There’s an air of authority around him that seems to demand attention from others, despite the surrounding chaos. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and exudes wealth and confidence. His tailored suit hugs his physique just right, and it’s impossiblenot to notice the way his dark hair falls effortlessly over his forehead.

“I need to be on the next available flight,” he explains to the agent, his voice smooth and decisive. He speaks with an ease that suggests he’s used to getting what he wants. I’m drawn in by his composed demeanor, even as I continue to berate myself for missing my own flight.

“Of course, sir,” replies the attendant, trying her best to accommodate him. A blush warms her cheeks as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, affected by the gorgeous man in front of her. “I’ll doeverythingI can to assist you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that…” He eyes the name tag on her blazer. “Carly.” The way he says her name oozes sensuality, and suddenly I want him to say my name too.

Then his piercing gaze flickers to mine before returning to the attendant. My heart races, and my nipples peak.What is it about this man that has me so captivated?

I shake off the thought and refocus my energy on the task at hand—securing a new flight so I can start my vacation.

“Excuse me,” I interject, stepping up to the counter beside the mysterious stranger. “I’m in a similar situation and need to book a new flight as soon as possible.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the attendant tells me while splitting her attention between us. “We’ll do our best to help you as well.”

“Thank you,” I say, stealing another glance at the stranger.

He smirks, amused by my persistence. A thrill runs through me, and I match his smirk with a playful grin of my own.

“Seems we’re both victims of circumstance today,” he comments, his voice deep and rich, like dark chocolate. I feel a shiver run down my spine, the sensation amplified by the intensity in his eyes.

“Apparently so,” I respond, compelled to match his confidence. “Though I must admit, being stranded in an airport isn’t usually this appealing.”

“Appealing?” He chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose that depends on the company you keep.”

“I suppose it does. I’m Kate.” I introduce myself as the spark seems to grow even stronger.

“Call me Tommy.” He captures my hand, but instead of giving it a polite shake, he lifts it to his full mouth and places a soft kiss to my knuckles.

Subtle, charming, and damn sexy.

We exchange a knowing smile, each sensing the undeniable chemistry simmering beneath the surface. And though I don’t know this man, there’s something about him—something irresistible—that keeps me rooted to the spot, entranced by his presence.

Soft jazz music draws my attention to the dimly-lit cocktail lounge tucked away in a quiet corner of the airport. Tommy and I glance at each other, our unspoken agreement clear. Perhaps we can salvage some enjoyment from our unexpected delay.

“Care for a drink while we wait?” he suggests, his voice low and inviting.

“Lead the way.” Together, we navigate through the bustling terminal, leaving the ruckus behind as we enter the hushed sanctuary of the bar.

Warm, amber lighting bathes the room in an intimate glow, casting long shadows across polished wood surfaces. The low murmur of conversation envelops us, a soothing balm after the cacophony of the main terminal. We slide into a secluded booth, the plush leather cushions embracing us as we settle in.

He hands me the drink menu, and our fingers brush for a brief moment, sending a chill racing up my arm. I scan the list of cocktails before settling on something daring.

“What would you like?” My eyes never leave his seductive mouth as he asks the question.

“A French 75 for me.”

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