Thirty Days: Part One (19 page)

Marcus chuckles deeply as I sit staring blankly at the back of the seat in front of us.

“Miss McMillian, you’re one in a million,” he declares as long fingers skim my stomach, and then the sound of my seatbelt clicking into place has me imprisoned.

I still can’t look at him or anyone for that matter, so I continue staring, allowing my thoughts to whirl erratically. How is it that he can disarm the grenade that only moments ago threatened to explode within me? This makes no sense, but it happened, and all these frickin’ people who stared on in shock can attest to the fact. I’m brought back to reality when a woman’s voice asks about my behaviour.

“Mr. Klein.” Her voice is sweet, yet high-pitched. “We need to ensure that all passengers are safe on our aircrafts. Every person here is our priority, and you know safety always comes first. Can you guarantee this outburst will not occur again?” She pauses as the other passengers sit in eerie silence.

“Everything is fine. Miss McMillian can get a little overwhelmed when flying, so it seems. I will take full responsibility for her and her actions.”

He’s so commanding in his deliverance
. By the time I find the courage to shift my eyes in his direction, the stewardess is nowhere to be seen.

“We’re about to take off,” Marcus says simply.

“Pffft…” I reply before getting reacquainted with my knees by dropping my head. I choose to remain in this position while the plane skirts the runway and, as my ears pop, they confirm we are now indeed airborne.

“Are you going to sit like that the entire time? You’re going to get a mighty headache if you decide to.”

Slowly, I lift my hunched body, wiggling my bottom into a comfier and upright position.

“Do you think you might talk to me, Miss McMillian?” His eyes burn into my cheek, but I don’t dare glance his way.

“Nope.”

He sniggers. “This is going to be a long flight.”

Disarmed

Marcus’ arm brushes against mine. This simple touch has my head turning in his direction. He’s not looking my way like I’d expected he’d be. Instead, his nose is buried deep within the glossy pages of a Geographical Magazine. His level of reserve intrigues me, mainly because whatever he’s reading has him completely captivated. I decide not to interrupt. Instead, I sit silently and stare. The longer I stare, the more I realise that Marcus is not only the epitome of male beauty, but he is a downright sophisticated god. How in this world did I not figure out that he was
the
Mr. Klein? The penthouse suite with fine things, which were neat and well maintained, should have alerted me.

Shit! Why am I so stupid?

Unclicking the buckle from around my waist, I take a long breath. “I’d like to get out, please,” I say on exhale.

His eyes don’t move from within the pages. “Are you planning on jumping out of the aircraft now?”

I can sense the sarcasm in his tone. Hell, the entire world could. A giggle escapes me, much to my own displeasure.

“No. I need to use the restroom.” Actually, that’s a lie. I just need space and time to think about something, anything that doesn’t involve him.

Slowly placing the magazine into the back of the chair in front of us, he stands. “It would probably be best for me to come with you, just in case.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh, but it is. I’m responsible for you now.” Leaning in too close, he whispers, “Your behaviour was appalling and such behaviour provides me with wild thoughts in regards to how you should be reprimanded. Miss McMillian, in brief, let’s just say you’re a handful, but you’re lucky that I enjoy challenges.” His voice oozes seduction, which causes my breath to hitch in my throat as I try to ward off my body’s response to his disclaimer.

Clearing my throat forcefully, I manage to choke out, “Never going to happen. Not a handful. Not your problem.” I press my shaky hand into his chest as Marcus makes room for me to pass and says not another word.

I scurry down the aisle as quickly as possible. Well, as fast as one can on an aircraft. Within seconds, I’m securely locked away in a confined space. A barrage of relief rushes over me, getting more intense when I realise that for one split second my curse provided a reprieve. The amenities were vacant and for the
cursed
this never happens. Every part of my body begs for me to slide onto the floor and curl up in the foetal position.
If only,
I huff while washing my hands and then hesitatingly turn the lock. As the door opens, I’m met dead-on by dark, alluring eyes, a scar no bigger than my fingernail, and one hell of a million-dollar smile.

“Abigail.” His tongue caresses my name before his body pushes forward, this motion forcing me backwards.

Click.

Two bodies now press against each other in a small space, locked away from prying eyes.

“What are you doing? This is very unprofessional,” I growl, yet softly, not wanting to be heard by anyone outside.

“I think we need to talk in private. Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Oh, but we do.” His eyes search mine and it’s as if he can see straight through me
.

Am I made of glass?
My stomach knots instantly and my heart beats to a much faster tempo.

“Look, I’m sorry. I thought you knew we’d be working together this week. I can see you’re still somewhat upset, but I’d really like it if we can just enjoy this time together and do what we’ve come here to do, and that is to resolve this very important case. Do you think we can do that?”

I say nothing.

Those dark orbs disappear behind a fan of lashes before mesmerising me once more. “If you’d like, I can arrange for someone else to fly out in the morning and you can go home. Abigail, I don’t want to force you to stay with me.”

As these words expel from his plump lips, a sharp pain shoots through my chest. Without permission my hand grips his tensed bicep.

“I’ll stay.”

“Okay.” He grins before his fingers reach for a strand of hair that has fallen against my cheek. Carefully tucking it behind my ear, I instinctively press into his palm. “You’re so beautiful.”

I pull away, hoping to hell he stops talking.

“Even when you’re angry, you’re beautiful.”

Finding my equilibrium, I’m silent, looking over every inch of this man’s face. “I’m so mad at you…like blood boiling mad. Like I hope you get explosive diarrhoea mad.”

“Such a thing happening to me would make you happy?” He smirks.

“Right now so happy. Please, Marcus, I’m begging you, stay away from me.”

“Why?” He cocks his eyebrow.

“I’m—”

“Beautiful, funny, hot-tempered—”

“Why am I here, Marcus?”

“Because I wanted you to be,” he replies quickly.

“Do you always get what you want?”

“That I do.” Tilting his head to the side, his mouth edges closer to mine. He groans as his index finger skims across my lower lip, causing my legs to weaken. My previous stance on what I want diminishes at the look of lust projecting from dark eyes. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Bang…Bang…Bang!

“Ma’am, are you okay in there?” bellows through the closed door.

Immediately I startle, falling backwards, but I’m caught easily by quick hands.

“Answer her, Abigail,” Marcus whispers into my ear.

“I’m fine,” I say shakily.

“Okay.” This one word, hesitant.

Marcus moves our bodies with such grace that before I know it, I’m facing the door with him pressed firmly against my back.

“What is it about aeroplanes?” he breathes, burying his head into my neck, leaving a small kiss behind my ear. “I’ll see you out there.” Reaching his arm around me, he turns the lock, and I clumsily slip through the gap.

A short statured air hostess greets me with narrowed eyes. “Ma’am, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

“Can I get you anything?” Her honey-coloured eyes flutter as she tilts her head.

“Could I bother you for a bottle of water?”
And a fresh pair of underwear. Granny grundies if you have them. I need a fucking force field to keep myself from faulting under Marcus’ touch.

“I’ll bring you some water. Please take your seat.”

Following her outstretched finger, the one pointing in the direction of my seat, I wonder how one can actually ward off a lusty magician.

Shortly after my parched mouth is satisfied, Marcus returns. He’s smiling in a way that confirms we now have our own private joke.

What are you doing to me, Marcus?

We say very little for the remainder of our flight to Sydney. A glance here, a smile there, and a simple brush of his arm against mine at times. I try to busy myself any way I can and after purchasing a set of earphones on flight, I settle into my seat.

“We’re about to descend. If you could please secure your seatbelts, we will be landing within ten minutes,” is heard through the speakers.

Marcus’ eyes lock onto mine. “Did you hear that?” he mouths as I remove the earphones.

“Yes.”

“Do you need help this time?”

“No.” I smile.

His grin that follows makes me wonder if maybe this week won’t be so bad. Who am I kidding?

Touchdown

“I hope you enjoyed your flight,” the same air hostess who interrupted us in the restroom says on departure.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Have a good day,” she adds cheerfully.

“I will.”

We’re ushered rather quickly from the flight into the airport. Marcus keeps his distance this time, which is probably wise. A long hallway greets us as we move in a pack. Once the hallway ends, I’m instantly lost—the airport is huge. My gut tells me to turn right and take the travelator, but since it’s always wrong, I instead turn left down another hallway.

“Abigail, where are you going?” Marcus calls out, stepping in front of me from out of nowhere.

“I’ve no clue, actually.” I try to gauge some sort of indication of where I can collect my luggage by concentrating on the large signs in front of me, but they may as well be written in Japanese. Directions clearly are not my thing.

“Come on, you’re coming with me. I can’t have you lost before we even leave the airport, now, can I?” His fingers entwine with mine, and before I know it, I’m being pulled along and not gracefully either.

“Baggage collection area.” He chortles, slipping me to his side.

“I see.”

“See, that wasn’t hard, now, was it?”

Okay, wise arse.
“Hmmm.”

Releasing my hand, Marcus bends down and plucks his black suitcase from the conveyor belt. “Yours shouldn’t be far behind mine.”

I wait, watching impatiently for my leopard print case to make an appearance. It doesn’t. “Umm, so where’s my luggage?” I shrug after every last bag has been collected.

His head throws back, and he laughs.

“Umm…why are you laughing?”

“I think your curse has been out to play, Miss McMillian.”

“Wait. What? Shit. No. It’s missing?”

He throws his head back again and he laughs harder while trying to nod.