Page 52 of Not the Bodyguard's Widow
“Do you want to try the bed? You might sleep better.”
No, I’ll sleep better here if you stay beside me.“I’m fine here.”
“You sure?”
Kimberly leaned her head against his arm and nodded.
* * *
Adam shook Alex’s shoulder. “Half hour till touchdown.”
Alex nodded. Kimberly still slept on his shoulder. He trailed a finger down her face. “Kimberly?”
She opened her eyes and closed them again.
“Time to wake up. Half hour till we land. You can use the restroom.”
Kimberly’s eyes opened. “You shouldn’t say that word. The baby knows what it means and starts dancing on my kidneys.” She unbuckled her seat belt.
Alex got out of his seat. “There is a bathroom through the bedroom. Your bags are in the closet in case you want to change or anything.”
Kimberly smoothed her navy-blue maternity dress. “Do I need to change?”
Alex ran a knuckle along her cheek. “No, but you are wearing the wrinkles of my shirt on your face.”
Kimberly rubbed her face and walked to the back of the plane.
Alex watched her go.
“Just what part of your marriage isn’t real?” asked Adam in his ear. “I may be only almost-engaged, but yours seems like it could be the real thing to me.”
Alex turned to his brother. “If wishes were fishes.”
“I prefer ‘if wishes were kisses.’” Adam stepped back, grinning.
“Neither one will help me, so let it go.”
“You should talk about it with her. September and I could have saved ourselves so much pain if we had talked things out a year ago.”
“As long as I am Kimberly’s bodyguard and we are possibly committing fraud, I don’t know that we can talk things out.”
“Point taken. Mrs. Ogilvie is paying you to be her husband. That is awkward.” Adam laughed.
Worse, Kimberly would pay Mrs. Ogilvie back, making him... Alex closed his eyes and counted to five. “Adam, back off.”
Adam nodded, made a point of looking over Alex’s shoulder, and returned to the front of the plane.
“Something wrong?” asked Kimberly from behind him.
“Nothing more than brotherly love.” Alex stood so Kimberly could get back in her seat, then lowered himself back into his. “Ready for this?”
“The landing or being on edge for the next seventy-two hours?”
“Both?”
“Neither.” She gripped his hands. “I’ve never been afraid of landings, but I had some very bumpy ones the last few times I flew, and I always worried the baby might get hurt.”
“I think your child has the most comfortable seat in the house.”
