The Misconception Read Free Page B

attendant caught and held his eyes when he reached the cockpit. He summoned a grin. She had legs like a dancer, and she’d found reasons to bend over in front of him often enough during the flight to make sure he noticed.
    “It about made me want to sprout wings and take off myself,” Jax said, automatically reaching for her hand when she held it out. She pressed something into his palm.
    “That’s not necessary.” Her eye contact never wavered. “We’re the ones who can make you soar.”
    Somebody toting an overstuffed carry-on bag bumped into him, propelling Jax out the door and down the loading tunnel leading to the terminal. He breathed deeply, grateful he didn’t have to take another lungful of the recirculated stuff that passed for oxygen on the plane. He felt immediately better, but still wished he could stick his head outside a window for some fresh air.
    A girl in her late teens wearing a fur jacket and a tight skirt her mama should have outlawed gave him a come-hither look over her shoulder. Not wanting to be rude, he inclined his head in a brief nod.
    The piece of paper the blonde flight attendant slipped him was still in his hand. He unfolded it, revealing her name and telephone number. He stuffed it into his pocket along with the number the brunette working the flight had given him. Their names were Bunny and Loralei, which would work just fine had they been porno stars.
    Considering the possibilities the names brought up, he figured he just might call one of them later. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t. Jax tried to separate business from pleasure, and this was a business trip.
    He didn’t have to work until much later tonight, but he hadn’t gotten where he was by goofing off. He’d check into his hotel, load up on carbs during a quick lunch and hit the weight machines for a couple of hours.
    By the time he had his itinerary planned, he was inside the terminal. He bypassed the airline employee dispensing information on connecting flights and was heading for baggage claim when a name on a sign stopped him.
    Harold McGinty .
    He’d forgotten all about breaking the news to Mac’s mystery woman that Mac was standing her up. Why had he said he’d do it anyway? It wasn’t possible to be thought of as one of the good guys while delivering bad news.
    He took a few steps toward the sign, figuring he might as well get it over with. The woman holding it shifted positions, giving him a clear view of her.
    The first thing he noticed was her dress, if you could call it that. It hung off her like a muted-plaid sack, stretching nearly to the floor and covering all but her ankles. Her hair, which was some shade between blond and brown, was secured in a loose bun at the back of her head, as though she couldn’t be bothered with it.
    Her face was in profile, revealing a longish nose, a small chin and full, unpainted lips that told him she didn’t have much use for makeup. She turned to look at him with eyes of an indeterminate color — Were they hazel? Gray? Brown? — and her jaw dropped. Then those kaleidoscopic eyes rolled.
    She wasn’t what you’d call pretty. Despite that fabulous mouth, her face was too stern, and perhaps a little too narrow. She was also too pale, as though she didn’t spend any time in the sun, and she was neither model tall nor pixie short. He couldn’t really tell because of the dress, but her curves seemed neither particularly lacking nor especially rounded.
    “You must be Rhea.” He walked toward her, surprised at the direction his mind was taking. He wondered what her body looked like under that sack, how her hair would appear if she let it down, what color her eyes turned when she was turned on.
    A long moment passed before she nodded, and it seemed as though she had to force her head into the motion. Surprise, tinged by dejection, gripped Jax. It had been a long time since a woman looked at him as though she didn’t like what she saw.
    “Don’t tell me you’re Harold