Page 16 of Operation: Fire Bomb

I swallow down my nerves as we soar up off the runway and become airborne. “Good to know,” I murmur, wishing I were in my lucky flying pants. But if Finn is as good as Dash says, then that makes me feel a little better. I think about the good-looking pilot we met after arriving on the tarmac. His flirty nature helped ease my anxiety, but Dash ushered me onto the plane so fast that I barely had a chance to say hello.

Easing my grip on the armrests, I know I’ll be able to better relax once the jet levels out and we hit cruising altitude. It’s too bad I didn’t have my earbuds and Sinatra crooning in my ear. That always calms me on a flight.

The thought of Ol’ Blue Eyes has me turning my attention back to Dash. Talk about blue eyes. I’ve never seen anyone with eyes the shade of his. Those teal irises outlined in a dark indigo are mesmerizing. When he glances over at me, my ovaries are in danger of spontaneous combustion.

“Better?” he asks.

His sexy voice combined with the allure of his amazing blue-green eyes make me forget I’m 30,000 feet above the ground. “I will be. I just wish I had my music.” When he cocks a thick, dark brow, I quickly explain, “It helps me relax.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

“I’m a bit of an old soul, so you’ll usually find me jamming out to Frank Sinatra or Etta James,” I tell him in a self-deprecating voice.

“Do you like jazz?”

“I love it.” That seems to snag his attention and he leans closer.

“How do you feel about Duke Ellington?”

“I’d ‘Take the A Train’ any day,” I joke lamely.

“A woman after my own heart,” he says and lays a hand over his chest. “Hang on.”

Dash reaches for a remote control, hits a few buttons, and the next thing I know, the comforting sound of classic jazz is coming out of the speakers. Even though it’s such a small thing, his thoughtfulness makes my heart swell and my throat tighten with emotion.

“Better?” he asks again.

Not trusting my voice, I nod. My cheeks grow warm and it’s moments like these I wish my skin held a tan. Of course, Dash’s complexion is perfect and he probably possesses that bronzed glow all year.So jealous.Meanwhile, my porcelain skin looks pasty in winter and fries to a crisp if I don’t cover and protect it in the summer.

“Okay, so you apparently have excellent musical tastes,” he says with a grin. “What about movies?”

“I love romantic comedies.” He rolls his eyes and I pretend to be offended. “And what may I ask is wrong with that? Let me guess, if it’s not an action flick loaded with guns, testosterone and explosions, you’re not interested.”

But he surprises me when he shakes his head. “Nah. Too close to real life. I prefer scifi.”

“LikeStar Trek?”

His face scrunches up like he just smelled something foul.

“What?” I ask with a laugh. “Why’re you making that face?”

“Star Wars,” he corrects me. “The original three, of course.”

I shrug a shoulder and nod without comment.

“Please, tell me you likeStar Wars.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

Dash stares at me for a long moment and I see disbelief wash over his face.

“You’ve never seenStar Wars?” he echoes, voice incredulous.

“Nope.” I don’t see what the big deal is, but he’s looking at me like I just ran over his dog. “So what? I’m sure a lot of people haven’t seen it.”

“Um, no, that isn’t correct. It’s one of the most beloved movies ever made and has a rabid fan base. What other movie is even half as popular that it still has sequels and spinoffs being made almost 50 years later?”

“Okay, calm down,” I say as though I’m placating one of my three-year-olds at school who is crying over a soggy cracker. “It’s really not that big of a deal. I’m just not a big sci-fi fan.”

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