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the white sand. He could almost hear her soft moans. Smell her. Taste her. Yes. There on the sand, with the water tickling their asses, Maeve wet with the salty sea, sand everywhere. Perhaps he could find a substitute while he was there. How would he manage with both his agent and Maeve sharing the villa with him?
    Focus on the work, idiot. You are going to a funeral. Why the hell are you thinking about getting laid?
    Jackson gathered his thoughts about the potential project and hoped that it would go through. To shoot temples and sites in India had long been a dream of his. Ever since he was a kid, he’d been fascinated—never had the money to go. Now that he did, he never had the time.
    He forced himself to look out the window after he saw Maeve getting up to use the bathroom. No. He wouldn’t make eye contact with her. Not yet.
    But the next thing he knew she was plopping her lovely ass in the empty seat next to him.
    “What?” He turned to look at her.
    “You’re so pleasant.”
    “I’m sorry. I was deep in thought.”
    “I find that hard to believe,” she muttered.
    “Well, are you going to sit there and insult me or do you have something to say?”
    “I received the oddest phone call a few moments before we boarded,” she said. “From Jack Wilson.”
    “What does he want?” Jackson said, his stomach twisting.
    “First, he wanted to say he looked forward to seeing me at the funeral and how sorry he was about Chef, that someone named Mulani sends her love to you,” Maeve cleared her throat. “And he offered me a job.”
    “Aw, Christ!” Jackson said, ignoring the comment about Mulani, but wondering if she would be at the service in Mexico, which would definitely solve his potential horndog problem. “Did you tell him to kiss your ass?”
    “I told him I am under contract with you and with our current publisher. I have a non-compete clause. That I can’t even entertain those offers until maybe next year,” she said.
    “Well, good. He’s a real asshole, Maeve. I’d hate to see you work for him. We rock,” he said, feeling heat rise to his face. “Um. You know what I mean.”
    “Precisely what I told her,” Alice interjected. She was leaning into the conversation from across the aisle. “And I have a good feeling about this project. I think it will happen. We just need to be patient. “
    “Well, I hope you’re right,” Maeve said. “I do like Jack’s work. Have you ever eaten at one of his restaurants? And his first cookbook was divine. Gorgeous.”
    “He’s pretentious. That what you want?”
    “I agree, Maeve. I don’t see that working out at all.”
    What Alice didn’t realize was that Maeve was goading him. He could tell she didn’t want to work for Jack—she was trying to get a rise out of him. He decided not to react anymore. He went back to looking out the window, and she went back to her own seat. Despite his cup of coffee, Jackson closed his eyes and drifted in and out of sleep.
    He thought he heard raised voices. Was that Maeve? He jostled awake and tried to stand up into the commotion as Maeve headed straight for him, red-faced and angry.
    “What the—” he managed to say before her fist hit his face, he fell back and cracked his head on the overhead, and all went black.

Chapter 7
    “J esus, Maeve!” Alice said, pulling her across the aisle into her seat as a shuffle of activity began surrounding Jackson. “What are you doing?”
    “The bastard had it coming Alice,” she said, as the flight attendants brought ice packs and leaned over her partner, who was beginning to stir.
    “What do you mean?” she said, eyes lit, face bright red.
    “Look,” Alice said, holding up her laptop. There was Jackson’s latest tweet. “Had a grooV time w/ sexy partner last night. Lovely feet. Even better tongue.”
    Alice’s mouth dropped, then formed a thin line.
    The flight attendant pulled her back so as to get a better view of Jackson. “What happened here?”
    Alice,