Chance recognizes trouble when he sees it. He just didn't expect to find it in the first-class cabin on the flight home for his father's wedding. Yet there she is, as gorgeous as ever. Vivi dared Chance to want things he knew he could never have. It's why he left her. But Christmas's meddling matchmakers have them firmly in their sights. So if they want to survive the next week, they'll have to play the part of an adoring couple-an irresistible charade that may give them a second chance at the real thing . . .
When
the flight attendant showed Vivi Westfield to her first-class aisle
seat, she stopped breathing at the sight of a long-legged,
broad-shouldered man slouched in the window seat with a
champagne-colored Stetson covering his face. Every time she saw a
tall, exceptionally built man wearing a Stetson, she’d had the same
reaction.
This
was worse.
This
was painful.
Because
this man’s scuffed, brown cowboy boots looked the same as the ones
that had spent a week under her bed. So did the well-worn jeans that
encased thighs that appeared to be as hard as the ones she’d run
her bare foot along. She recognized the black T-shirt with the Rocky
Mountain logo that hugged his wide chest. An extraordinary chest
she’d kissed her way up and kissed her way down. Broad shoulders
that she’d clung to. Muscular, tanned arms that had wrapped around
her, and large hands that could easily crush a man but had caressed
her gently, and at one time, she’d misguidedly thought, lovingly.
At
the flight attendant’s impatient sigh, Vivi dragged her gaze away.
“Ah, is there another seat available? I’d rather not sit in first
class. Too close to the front of the plane.” The woman’s
black-penciled eyebrows snapped together when Vivi continued, her
voice barely a whisper, “In the event of a crash, it’s forty
percent safer to be at the back.”
Safer
for her. She needed time to prepare herself for the sight of his
to-die-for face. She remembered that face, remembered kissing that
face, falling head over heels in love with that face. And those
amazing grass-green eyes of his wouldn’t miss her reaction to
seeing him for the first time in eighteen months. They’d never
missed anything.
He’d
know.
He’d
know he’d broken her heart.
At
least that was one positive thing that had come out of writing an
advice column. Vivi had learned what she had to do to move on with
her own life. She needed to prove to Chance as much as to herself
that she was over him. That he hadn’t ruined her for any other man.
When Superman entered her life, she’d hoped that was the case. He’d
been proof that all those soft, romantic feelings hadn’t shriveled
up and died. It didn’t matter that he was no longer in her life.
Everyone needed a rebound guy, and Superman had been hers.
Hopefully
moving on from Chance would be as easy as moving on from Superman.
Since the day Chance dumped her, she’d rehearsed her first
face-to-face with him a million times. She knew exactly what she’d
say and how she’d act. She’d even planned out what to wear. Which
was so not Vivi. She was a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. But she’d
packed an outfit that oozed cool sophistication. It sure as hell
wasn’t the yellow rubber boots, black leggings, and
seen-better-days, off-the-shoulder green T-shirt she currently had
on. And a brief encounter with Chance on Main Street was not the same
as being trapped beside him on the four-hour flight to Denver.
Vivi’s
lungs constricted, and her face tingled. Good God, she was having a
panic attack. And the flight attendant’s tight smile and negative
head shake was so not what she needed to see right now. Maybe the
woman at the gate was right and it was Vivi’s lucky day. Maybe this
guy who leaked testosterone from his pores wasn’t Chance McBride
after all. Her gaze went to the man’s overlong, copper- streaked,
dark blond hair.
No, it was not her lucky day. This
was the second worst day of her life. The worst day had been when
she’d woken up to a note on her pillow. And the words “Take care,
Slick” in Chance’s bold, masculine handwriting.
