Page 4 of Turbulent Fires

“I’m traveling for business.” He pauses as he holds out his hand. “Wolf Young.”

My lips turn up as I wait for him to correct himself, thinking he’s joking. It takes a few seconds before I realize he isn’t. This is his name... I think.

“That’s your real name?” I know the words sound skeptical. There’s a tiny bit of wine left in my glass. I lift it to my lips and finish it. Better to be safe than sorry, and neither of us needs any more accidents.

“Yep, since the day I was born. Guess my mother had a sense of humor.” He pauses again as a wolfish smile shapes his full lips. “Or maybe she just felt something primal in me from the moment I was conceived.” I nearly choke. A chuckle escapes as I shake my head.

He once again leans toward me, a bit too close for comfort. At least in the first-class seats, we have a small barrier between us, unlike the seats in coach. I’ve never been more grateful to be seated where I am.

“What about you, mysterious bookworm? Is there a name to go with your pink cheeks and quick hands?”

“Quick hands?” I ask, my brow arching.

“You were quick to aim straight for my... spill zone,” he says with what I’m discovering as his trademark sexy grin. I laugh once more. I can’t seem to help myself with this stranger. I’m enjoying his company more than reading my book. This, again, says a lot.

“I’m Audrey Beach,” I tell him, finally accepting his hand. The zap between us is noticeable, and I’m sure he feels it too. That doesn’t mean anything, though. This is simply some harmless flirting before we go our separate ways to never see each other again. “I normally don’t share wine.”

“Audrey,” he slowly says, as if he’s tasting it on his tongue. “I like it. Classic, beautiful, and slightly mischievous.”

“I fit into more categories than that,” I assure him, not unpleased about his assessment.

The man looks at me so intensely I feel like every secret I have is being dissected. It’s an odd feeling since most people would conclude that I’m very difficult to decipher.

“Tell me, Audrey Beach, are you always this confident?”

I counter him. “Are you always this bold?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Only when I’m intrigued.”

“You, Mr. Young, are clearly used to women melting at your feet,” I tell him. This isn’t a question. It’s fact, and we both know it.

He shrugs, not even trying to run away from my comment. “I don’t often end up with wet pants unless I’ve intended to all along.”

“For such a confident man, I’d think you’d have better lines,” I tell him. “You might be losing some of your swagger in your older years.” He’s not old, but I know this is a reverse ego stroke for a lot of men afraid of aging. He laughs, not shocking me. I don’t know if this man is capable of thinking an insult could possibly be thrown his way.

“I haven’t lost a thing, sweetheart. My swag grows even more appealing day by day.” He leans a tad closer, his playfulness turning a little more serious. “I also only play at games I intend to win.”

“I feel exactly the same,” I tell him, not willing to back down. I’m not sure what game we’re playing, though. I don’t intend on this leading to anything. I’m also having enough fun, at the same time, to keep the conversation going.

“Why are you flying to Florida?” he asks.

I hesitate for only a moment. Telling the truth can’t hurt anything. “I’m going for work. I’m a freelance writer exploring hidden gems, unique destinations, and places that are off the beaten path. People tend to only go to places known to the world, which is a shame, so I like to do features on places people wouldn’t normally find but will fall in love with once they arrive.”

“I like an adventurous woman,” he says, his eyes taking a moment to roam over me, not necessarily in a sexual way, but more like he’s memorizing everything about me.

“So, you’re traveling for business, but what kind of business is it?” I ask.

“It’s a mix of business and pleasure. I’m meeting with my brothers to check out a property and do some deep-sea fishing. If we take life too seriously, we forget to laugh, which is detrimental to our mental health.”

“I like mixing business and pleasure,” I tell him, fully agreeing with his attitude about life. It’s very easy to talk this way to a stranger. I’m well aware that the majority of people lie. They might act like they live free, but very few people actually do. That’s the tragedy in life, being slaves to corporate America, or locked down. Freedom is my independence.

“I especially love it when I’m being charmed by a beautiful woman I’ve been lucky enough to be seated next to,” he tells me. I again notice how smooth this man is, how he can deliver a line with a perfect amount of confidence and an enticing sparkle in his memorable eyes.

“Most men wouldn’t be so comfortable sitting in wet pants for a few hours,” I tell him.

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured out by now that I’m certainly not most men.”

“Oh, that’s more than clear.”

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