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dropped her purse, took the front of his T-shirt in both hands, rose on tiptoe and kissed him back.
    It felt like he’d been waiting his entire life to kiss her, and he took advantage. He sucked gently on her bottom lip, and when she opened up with a moan, he stroked his tongue in deep, drinking of her, drowning in her.
    When they finally pulled apart they were breathing hard. She stared up at him, seeming dazed.
    “Responding like that is going to make you think it’s okay to be late,” she said as she let go of him, straightened her jacket and licked her lips.
    “Couldn’t help myself,” he said, pulling the strap of his duffle bag higher on his shoulder.
    She looked up at him. “Really?”
    He grinned. Like men didn’t want to kiss her all the time. “Really.”
    “Just keep it up,” she said, retrieving her purse and extending the handle on her rolling suitcase. “That’s what I need you for.”
    “Kissing? Not going to be a problem.”
    She gave him a smile that made him want to start all over again. “Be crazy about me, unable to keep your hands to yourself and we’ll be good.”
    He watched her first several steps away from him. “Easiest gig ever,” he muttered, starting after her. They went past the ticket counters and he caught up with her at the escalators to the gates. “You already have the boarding passes and stuff?”
    “Don’t need boarding passes,” she said over her shoulder. “We’re taking a private jet.”
    That pulled his attention from checking out her butt in jeans. “You have a private jet?”
    “No, but my boss does.”
    He could so get used to traveling by private jet and acting like he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.
    The moment they stepped off the escalator, he grabbed her hand, threading his fingers with hers. Three days. He had three days with this woman. He intended to touch her for most of those seventy-two hours.
    She didn’t pull away, but slanted him a look. “You’re not afraid of flying are you?”
    “Will you sit closer to me if I am?”
    “I’ll sit close to you no matter what.”
    “Then no, I’m not scared of flying.”
    She laughed softly and he found himself grinning.
    As they stepped out onto the tarmac, Dooley got his first view of the private jet.
    He approved.
    It was small, but sleek. Painted silver, it had Britton in black lettering along the side.
    Dooley stopped abruptly, pulling her up short with him. “Britton?” he asked. “Not Jonathan Britton?”
    Morgan looked surprised. “Yes, Jonathan Britton. I manage one of his hotels and this trip is to discuss his plans for a new resort.”
    It was a fucking small world.
    Dooley wasn’t sure what his part in this weekend was exactly , but if it had to do with hotels and resorts, he’d fit right in.
    Fifteen minutes later they were seated in the private jet. It could seat six passengers but they were the only ones on board other than the pilot and a flight attendant. Once they each had a drink—beer for him and white wine for her—the flight attendant discreetly disappeared, leaving them alone as the plane taxied and took off.
    Dooley turned in his seat to look at her better. The seats were certainly wide enough to get comfortable in. “You said if I showed up you’d tell me why it had to be me going along.”
    She took a long drink of her wine, then nodded. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
    “It’s not a long flight. You should probably fill me in on what’s going on these three days. What you want me to do. What you’re doing.”
    She finished off her wine, then turned to face him too. “You want the long story or the short?”
    “You have an hour. Let’s see how far you get.”
    He was even more intrigued than last night. He wasn’t sure why. It was a combination of her insistence he be the one to accompany her on this trip, that the trip was into a world he knew well, and just her.
    She was unlike the other women he dated. Which was mostly on purpose. He liked girls