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nods and gives me a sidelong glance that somehow tempers my frazzled nerves.  As the wine settles into me, I grow calm knowing Kyle will be on the flight with me.
    Ted slurps the last of his beer and slams the glass down on the bar much to the chagrin of good old Jerry the Bartender.  I down the last sip of my Chardonnay and signal for the tab.
    “No, this is on me, Ted says as his hand moves for the bill.  “We’ll turn in the receipt and get reimbursed after some creative accounting.”
    I specifically remember the employee handbook reads there will be “No monetary compensation for alcohol-related expenses while traveling on company business.”  Is Ted bucking the rules?  How come guys can do that and get away with it?
    I pick up my things and follow my co-workers through the scrutinous security check, trying not to think of the thousands of germs on the airport floor that I just had to walk on in my bare feet.  Ted is randomly selected for a thorough search, so Kyle and I go on ahead to the gate.  The plane is boarding as soon as we get there and we quickly move to our seats.  I take my place by the window and let out a long, pent-up sigh as I look out over the wing.
    “Looks like we’re sitting together,” Kyle stretches out in the aisle seat of row twenty-seven.  I notice that his hands are large and tanned as they rest on his thigh.  Not that I should be looking or making a mental comparison to other parts of his body.
    That’s when the skivvies kick back in.
    The small compartment.
    The close quarters.
    The airtight door that will soon seal me into this flying coffin.
    I’m on an airplane.
    Oh God.
    My hands begin to shake and sweat at the same time.
    I try some deep breathing exercises to try and calm my nerves for the impending flight.  The plane is abuzz with activity and energy of people making last minute phone calls, checking their texts and e-mails, or just playing a game.
    Why do I feel such sudden doom?
    A loud slam brings me upright in the seat and knocks me into reality.  My tingling nerves wipe out thoughts of anything other than faulty landing gear and malfunctioning flaps.
    Should I warn Kyle that I might hurl my morning biscuit once this 737 starts rumbling down the runway?  I try to think of normal, everyday things like how much is in my 401(k) or if I paid the cable bill, to calm my frazzled nerves.  I snag the Skymall magazine from the back of the seat just to have something to do with my hands.
    Kyle interrupts my inner musings.  “Sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk more since the company meeting.  Jiles kind of swept me away these past two weeks to teach me the ropes.  But, I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from Aislin.”
    The products in the magazine fade into obscurity as I notice Kyle’s stunning eyes.  We’re talking traffic stopping beautiful.  Crystal clear.  I focus on his ultra-white teeth and that Hollywood smile of his.  The creased dimple on his face gives him an air of rakishness that hints to a rogue side to him.
     “That’s okay.  Things are crazy at the office these days,” I say.  Then, I breathe out and extend my hand to him professionally across the vacant middle seat.  “I’m Vanessa Virtue.  Welcome to DigitalDirection.  You’ll make a great part of our team,” I manage to get out through my sure-to-be-soon panic attack.
    He takes my hand and shakes it slightly, yet playfully.  I relax into the seat and luxuriate in the warmth of our skin touching.  Damn, he’s cute.  Why couldn’t I have met him in a club when I was out with Griz?  Why does he have to be a not-for-consumption co-worker?  No way am I jeopardizing my job due to a set of sexy eyes.  I certainly don’t want the high schoolers in the research room to add me to their list of people they backstab and crucify weekly.
    “I’ve been meaning to ask you to lunch,” he says, removing his hand.  I slump a little when he pulls away.
    Did he just say