Page 118 of Seduced By You

“I’m sure you don’t want to listen to my woes, Mister…?”

“Better than musing on my own.” He flashed that perfect smile again. Good God, he really was beautiful. “Call me Blay.” He offered his hand.

I reached across the aisle and shook it. His palm was warm, his skin soft, and he held on to my hand a little longer than I’d consider normal for two strangers. A delicious shiver trickled up my spine. “Jill.”

“Yeah, I know.” His smile widened.

Oh, yeah. Stalker extraordinaire.

“What does theTstand for?”

“Huh?”

“?‘English author Jillian Rowe writes as J. T. Rowe,’?” he parroted from my bio. “What does theTstand for?”

“Ah. I’m not telling. A girl’s got to have some secrets.”

“I bet it’s Tilly.”

I chuckled. “Jillian Tilly Rowe. Not even my parents would be that cruel.” I winced. The last time I’d spoken to my parents had been the day they’d discovered I was a romance author. Porn, my God-fearing mother had called it. She’d given me an ultimatum. Give up writing “that disgusting smut” or forgo a relationship with them.

I’d chosen my characters. They rarely let me down.

Either Blay didn’t see me flinch, or he chose not to probe. Instead, he said, “Jilly Tilly Rowe,” laughing heartily at his joke.

“Tease me all you like. I’ll never tell.”

“Then you leave me no choice. To me, you’ll always be Tilly.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Always? You mean for the next nine hours until we land in Miami and we never see each other again?”

“Did you notice we’re in the air?”

I hadn’t. For the first time in my life, I’d gone through takeoff without clutching the armrests once.

“You’re a miracle worker.”

He held a hand across his stomach and performed a seated bow. “One of my many talents.”

“What is it you do?”

One shoulder lifted. “Oh, this and that.”

“Ah, a man of mystery.”

“As we’re on a flight from London to Miami, I think that should beinternationalman of mystery, don’t you?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Like Austin Powers.”

“I don’t have the teeth to pull off Austin Powers.”

“Nor the velvet suit.”

He smoothed a hand over the arm of his jacket. “Were they velvet or suede?”

I shrugged. “Poh-tay-to, poh-tah-to.”

“That’s a very American saying from a very English girl.”

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