A Mile High Romance Read online

  He smiled at her, clearly wanting to say something obnoxious, but he didn't. Instead, he replied, "Of course, Miss Baxter. As your CEO I'd be most interested in hearing any ideas you might have to help us improve our corporate performance."

  After takeoff, she spent the next hour talking to him about the forecasting model and ALLL calculation. To his credit, Corrigan turned out to be knowledgeable about both and open to her ideas for improving them. He even composed an e-mail to Horowitz scheduling a meeting to discuss the changes.

  Sarah relaxed considerably once he started treating her like a valued employee and stopped eyeing her up and down like his personal escort. Not that the sexual tension between them disappeared.

  Far from it. In order to show him what she was talking about with the loan losses she'd needed to show him her calculations. He'd moved over to sit next to her, sitting so close that she could smell the clean, crisp cologne he wore. His arm brushed against hers as he pointed to various calculations and asked questions.

  She found herself staring into his gorgeous green eyes more than once, forgetting what she'd been about to say.

  Sitting so close to him made her heart race at twice its normal rate.

  They settled into a slightly awkward silence once the discussion was over. He stayed seated next to her, leaning on the arm rest between them. It was broad enough that they didn't technically have to touch, but Sarah found herself putting her arm next to his so that they were almost touching, the hairs on his arm just barely brushing her skin.

  He glanced at her, his expression serious for once, and Sarah found herself hoping he'd kiss her. She turned away, shaking off the moment of insanity.

  This was Tyler Corrigan. A trust fund baby. The boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

  And Sarah was…so not that.

  The stewardess saved them by bringing out dinner. Corrigan moved back to the seat opposite Sarah and the stewardess covered the table with a white linen tablecloth. She then laid out a full set of silverware, the metal knives and forks shining under the cabin lights. Next, she brought out porcelain plates, each one piled high with a large, juicy steak, asparagus, and a baked potato.

  It looked delicious. Probably nicer than any meal Sarah had ever eaten, even at a restaurant.

  At a gesture from Corrigan, the stewardess left the bottle of wine and glasses for him to pour.

  "So, tell me, Sarah," he asked, "what were your Christmas plans?" He handed her a glass of red wine.

  She took a sip. How much to tell him? Probably best not to include the visit to see her uncle in prison on Christmas Eve. Or to mention that her mom lived in a double-wide trailer out in the sticks. She'd long ago learned how to pretend to be wealthier than she was. She could never pull it off entirely, but at least she could avoid the worst labels that rich people applied to those that weren't like them. Let them think she grew up lower middle class instead of dirt poor.

  "Everyone goes to my mom's," she said, cutting into her steak. "I have two brothers and a sister. They're all married and have six kids between them. All my siblings live right near my mom, so everyone gathers at her house first thing in the morning to open their stockings." She smiled, remembering all the happy Christmases she'd spent at her mom's.

  "What about your dad?" Corrigan took a sip of his wine, watching her.

  She shook her head. Her father had been killed in a bar fight when she was only two. "He passed away a number of years ago. I never knew him."

  Corrigan took a bite of his steak. "You're lucky."

  Sarah glared at him, not believing he'd just said that.

  He caught the look and had the grace to blush. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong. It's just that my dad was a right, royal bastard when I was growing up. I could never please him. He never once said 'I love you' to me or anyone else as far as I could tell. I would've rather had no father than him."

  Sarah saw a momentary flash of pain in his eyes before he hid it again.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize your childhood was that hard."

  He laughed. "Oh, it wasn't that hard, was it? I had everything money could buy." He gestured around them.

  They ate in silence for a long time before Corrigan asked her another question. "What kind of gifts did you guys have in your stockings?"

  Sarah shrugged. "The usual. Nothing too fancy."

  He bit his lip. "What's the usual?" At her confused look, he said, "I never had a stocking."

  "Never?" She stared at him. Who didn't have a stocking for Christmas? "Hell, all the adults in my family still have stockings."

  He shook his head. "Never. We always went for ski vacations somewhere or down to the tropics. My parents weren't even home most Christmas mornings. We didn't exchange Christmas gifts. They said there was no point. We could have what we wanted when we wanted, so why bother."

  Sarah felt herself pitying him. "Are you kidding me?"

  "No."

  "And now that you're an adult? Have you ever celebrated Christmas?"

  He shook his head. "No."

  Sarah laughed and shook her head. "Okay, you have to be kidding me now. You have to have dated someone at some point who invited you over for Christmas. Or had a roommate in college. Or…something."

  "No." He looked hurt, like he thought she was laughing at him.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Corrigan. Please don't think I'm laughing at you. I've just never met someone who didn't celebrate Christmas or the holidays in some way." She reached out and squeezed his wrist.

  He stared at her hand on his and Sarah snatched it back. She blushed, staring down at the table. "I'm sorry, Mr. Corrigan. That wasn't appropriate of me."

  "No, it's fine. And, please, call me Tyler." She stared into his beautiful green eyes, suddenly lost, unsure what to do with this moment.

  He smiled at her. "You were going to tell me about your Christmas stockings," he prompted.

  "Oh, right." She sat up, glad to have something to distract from whatever had just passed between them. "Well, my mom always puts the usual…" She blushed. "Sorry. She always puts toothbrushes and a chocolate Santa and some sort of holiday socks and a whole handful of those chocolate ball ornaments in the bottom and then there's usually one personal gift in there, too. Like last year she gave me a pair of earrings."

  They were supposed to be for work, but Sarah had never worn them. They were just ten-dollar earrings from the local Wal-Mart. Nothing fancy enough for Corrigan, Inc.

  "That sounds nice," Corrigan said, poking at his asparagus with his fork.

  "It is. I'm sorry to miss it this year."

  He glanced at her. "That's my fault, isn't it?"

  She nodded. "Well, you and Mr. Horowitz. He says I'm the best forensic accountant, but I'm also the only one without a spouse and kids. So, when it comes time to ruin someone's holiday, I'm the obvious choice."

  "You have a boyfriend, though. That has to count for something."

  She stared at him blankly, confused.

  "You do have a boyfriend, don't you? You mentioned something about him when we were talking about this trip."

  Sarah formed her mouth into a silent oh. "Well, actually…" She blushed.

  "Actually?" He didn't look very happy.

  She scratched her nose as she studied the ceiling, too embarrassed to look at him. "I may have made that up…"

  He sat back, crossing his arms across his chest, suddenly closed down again. "Why?"

  Sarah had two choices. She could tell him and maybe he'd go back to being the relaxed man she'd seen for the last hour or so, but she'd have to confess what she thought he'd been planning for this flight. Or, she could make up another lie, and probably lose this newly-formed bond forever.

  She took a gulp of her wine and grimaced. Wine was definitely not made to be gulped.

  He studied her, waiting.

  Sarah let out a quick sigh and then said the words as fast as she could. "I made up a boyfriend because I was afraid you were going to try to have sex
with me on this flight and…"

  And she was afraid she'd let him if he tried.

  She bit her lip.

  "And?" he asked, arms still crossed across his chest.

  "And I didn't want to have to deal with a situation like that." She chewed on her nail as she waited for his reaction.

  "Why not?" His gaze pinned her to her seat.

  "Um, well, um…" She tried to look anywhere but at him, but she couldn't escape his intense stare. She winced. "It's never a good career move to sleep with the boss?"

  She grabbed her fork and knife and started cutting her steak into teeny tiny pieces. She would not look at him. She would not.

  "So you want to sleep with me?" he asked, cutting his own steak.

  She rolled her eyes. "That's your takeaway from the conversation? That I want to sleep with you?"

  "Well, you do, don't you?" He put a piece of bloody red steak in his mouth and slowly chewed it as he watched her.

  Sarah rolled her eyes again. "Oh, who doesn't? I mean, honestly. You're rich, you're as gorgeous as any man I've ever met, you're intelligent, you're…every girl's fantasy."

  He smiled and her heart skipped a beat.

  She shook her head. "You're also a pompous, entitled ass who's almost impossible to deal with. Which is the real reason I didn't want to sleep with you. I'd bet it's all about you, you, you in the bedroom. Not a moment spared for your partner's pleasure."

  He leaned back. "Is that so?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, only one way to find out, isn't there?" He quirked a brow at her, nodding towards the door at the back of the plane.

  "You honestly expect me to have sex with you in the bathroom of your plane? See, that's the problem with rich men. They think women will do anything for them anywhere."

  Corrigan stood and held a hand out to her. "Don't judge until you know what you're judging."

  Maybe it was the three shots of whiskey. Or the long day. Or the wine on top of everything else.

  Or maybe it was the perfectly manicured hand that was attached to the perfectly built body. The body she'd imagined covering with kisses and caresses for almost two years now.

  Whatever it was, Sarah took his hand and let him lead her to the door at the back of the plane.

  It wasn't a bathroom.

  It was a bedroom. With, of all things, a king-sized bed.

  Sarah laughed. "Of course your private jet has a bed in it." She tried to pull her hand away from his, but he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close.

  "It's not like that, Sarah. I travel all the time for work. I spend more nights on this plane than I do in my apartment."

  She looked away. "I'm sure you don't travel alone. Or if you do, Daphne out there is happy to accommodate your every need."

  He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "No. That's not me, Sarah. I don't like women who…who only want me for my money. Who throw themselves at me. Which is most women. You're different."

  She glared at him, refusing to speak.

  He continued, "I've wanted you since the first day I saw you two years ago. And you've denied me at every turn. You insult me. You avoid me. And yet I still want you. You're the only one for me, Sarah."

  She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Don't run lines on me, Tyler. I've heard them all before."

  "It's not a line. I mean it." He looked hurt, but she didn't believe it for one second.

  "Yeah. Sure you do. You're just like every other guy I've met. You say sweet things, tell me how beautiful I am, how much you want me, how special I am…And then when you get it, you walk away, acting as if it never happened, like you never wanted me at all."

  He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe it's you."

  "Excuse me?" That was the last thing she'd expected him to say.

  He half-smiled at her, his lip quirking up in amusement. "Maybe it's you. Maybe these guys want you as much as I do. Maybe they've lusted after you for years just like me. And then they get you, and…" He shrugged. "It wasn't worth their time after all."

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. "How dare you? You…"

  She tried to slap him, but he caught her wrist.

  He leaned in. "So here we are. I want you, but you think it's just a line I say to every woman I meet, so you're not interested in me. And now I wonder if maybe all this time I've spent on you wasn't actually worth it. Maybe you're just…"

  She glared at him, willing him to finish that sentence. If he insulted all women or some women or her, that was it. She was done with him.

  He smiled, pressing his body against hers. "Maybe you're just too much woman for them to handle."

  Sarah laughed. "Nice save."

  "Thanks."

  He stroked her jaw with his thumb, studying her, his eyes tracing every line of her face. Sarah couldn't hide the shiver that ran through her body at his touch. He really was frickin' gorgeous.

  He smiled that little half-smile and stepped back, running his eyes along her body like he was studying a fine painting. "My Rubenesque beauty," he whispered.

  The way he looked at her made her wet as hell. She could feel her nipples pushing against the lace of her bra. She glanced down and saw that they were visible through the sweater. It was like the fabric was clinging to her breasts, calling attention to her arousal.

  "So," he said, leaning against the wall and staring down at her. "You think I'm a selfish lover."

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  He ran his hand down the curves of her body, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her skirt. "Maybe it's time I showed you just how generous I can be."

  Sarah grabbed his hand. "I'm…I'm not this kind of girl, Mr. Corrigan."

  He leaned down, his breath hot against her neck. "I said to call me, Tyler, Sarah."

  "Well, fine. Tyler. I'm not the kind of girl to do this."

  "Do what?" he asked, kissing her neck slowly, working his way from top to bottom and back up again.

  "This," she said, lamely, losing herself in the feel of his mouth against her flesh.

  "I think you are," he whispered, his tongue tracing the outline of her ear.

  It was like her ear had a direct line to her pussy. She closed her eyes, fighting the desire to succumb to him, to just let him take her and do whatever he wanted to her body.

  "I'm not…" she managed to say, although her hands were pulling him closer as she said it.

  His hand ran up the inside of her thigh, cupping her sex through her lace panties. She was so wet, there was no way he couldn't feel it.

  "Not that kind of girl, huh?" he asked, rubbing his hand along the fabric.

  She shivered, unable to control her reaction to him. He was so close, so masculine. Every fiber in her body cried out to her to give in to him, to let him take her body and use it as he willed.

  "Sit on the bed," he ordered.

  Sarah did, wondering what came next. She could see his erection pushing against his tight pants, but he ignored it.

  "So you think I'd be a selfish lover?" he asked, smiling down at her.

  "Yes…" she answered, her voice small, scared.

  "How wrong you are."

  He leaned forward, kissing her on the mouth, his tongue insistent, pushing past her lips. She kissed him back, surprised by the fierceness of her reaction. Just when she was about to lose herself in the feel of their lips together, he pulled away.

  He knelt before her and pulled her hips until she was barely sitting on the bed, her legs dangling over his shoulders.

  He pulled her sweater over her head and kissed her stomach, sucking at her flesh, kneading her skin with his hands. She buried her hands in his dark hair, pulling him to her, willing him to go lower.

  He didn't.

  He pulled back and reached up to unfasten her bra, releasing her breasts. They hung down slightly, no longer supported by the bra, but he didn't seem to care as he sucked and nuzzled each one. She didn't think it was possible for her nipples t
o grow harder, but they did under his expert attention. He ran his thumb around one nipple while softly biting the other.

  It was a sensation like none she'd ever experienced and it made her so wet she had to be dripping.

  He pushed her back so she was lying on the bed and removed her skirt and panties, kissing the soft flesh of her inner thighs until she relaxed. She loved her figure, but being naked in front of a man like this scared the hell out of her.

  "So beautiful," he murmured as he continued to kiss and caress her flesh.

  She wanted to sit up, but he pushed her back down again.

  "Just close your eyes," he said, one hand caressing her nipple and holding her in place. "Focus on what it feels like as I pleasure you."

  His other hand parted the lips of her pussy, the thumb stroking her hard little cunt. And then he buried his mouth in the cleft between her legs, sucking and licking at her like a starving man. He thrust two fingers inside her as he continued to taste and tease her.

  Sarah didn't know where to focus her attention. On his hand as he pinched her nipple, or the fingers thrusting in and out of her pussy, or his mouth as it probed and sucked and tasted.

  She was overwhelmed, drowning in wave after wave of sensation. It flowed from her head to her toes and back again, growing and growing, taking her higher and higher, like she was flying, soaring. And then she was falling, plummeting, lost in the feel of his mouth on her body, grasping the sheets to keep from being lost in the great abyss of her orgasm.

  She thought he'd stop then. That he'd stand and undress and fuck her.

  But he didn't.

  He kept going. He turned her over and brought both of his hands down to her pussy, one stroking her clit, one thrusting inside her, licking and kissing and sucking her flesh as he prolonged the orgasm. Sarah clawed at the sheets, her body beyond her control as it bucked and shuddered under his touch.

  She buried her face against the pillow to keep from screaming out her pleasure. He increased his pace, his fingers making a loud sucking noise as they moved in and out.