Chapter 4: New York, Here We Come

QUINN'S POV

My uneasiness subsided even more as the plane leveled and I inched my eyes open. I glanced down at our intertwined hands. My eyes lifted to his and he immediately pulled his hand from mine. He reached for his magazine again and thumbed idly through it. I could feel my heartbeat began to slow and my body relax.

The flight attendant glided by after the pilot announced we'd reached our cruising altitude and offered us drinks.

I answered quickly. "Tequila, please."

Ford's eyes narrowed on me. "Do you think it wise to mix alcohol with your sedative?"

The flight attendant leaned down. "There's no alcohol on board. Can I get you something else?"

"Water's fine."

She looked at Ford. "Your usual, sir?"

"Yes. Will you also bring a couple of salads and a cup of soup for her?"

She smiled at him -- a little too sugary for my liking.

"Of course. I'll be back shortly."

The flight attendant departed and I leaned my head against the leather back of the couch. "I'm not hungry."

"I know."

I sat up. "Why're you doing all of this? Really."

He closed the magazine with a sigh. "What?"

"Flying me to New York? Having a doctor check me over? Making sure I eat?"

"I've already told you why."

"But you don't owe me anything, so why're you doing it?"

"Why are you letting me?"

"You haven't given me much of a choice."

"We all have choices, Quinn. You could've made yours by now if you'd wanted to leave."

He said my name like we'd known each other our entire lives.

"I tried to leave, but I couldn't get your stupid door open."

"Even so, you're not my prisoner or my hostage. If you ask me, I'll drop you off anywhere you want."

I stared at the floor. "I don't have anywhere to go," I said somberly. The admittance of that fact bummed me out even more.

"Then New York is as good a place as any."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't. But at this point, your 35,000 feet in the air, so you have to trust me."

My sedative had fully kicked in now. I leaned my head back again and closed my eyes. I could hear him rifling through the pages of his magazine. I barely knew him, but I'd never met anyone less communicative and hard-to-read.

I'd also never met anyone more beautiful. I'd already memorized his face. Without opening my eyes, I could picture that sculpted jaw and pink pout. His arresting brown eyes pinned you right where you were and made it impossible to look away. If I'd ever dreamt of a man for myself, he'd look like Ford. But I never had and I wasn't going to start now. Besides, Ford was grossly out of my league.

It wasn't long before I heard the quiet footsteps of the flirty flight attendant returning with our food and drinks. I watched as she deposited two plates of salad on the tables in front of us and then placed a piping hot bowl of soup in front of me. My stomach growled and I realized how hungry I'd become.

Ford passed his salad to me. "The soup is tomato bisque and the salad is spinach," he explained.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"It's for you. It'll put some color in your cheeks."

I felt brave enough to unbuckle my seatbelt now, so I scooted to the edge of the sofa and dove into my food. I felt the heat of the rich and creamy bisque slide down my throat and settle comfortably in my empty stomach. Unintentionally, I moaned aloud.

Ford smirked. "Good?"

I nodded emphatically. "It's delicious. I've always heard how awful airplane food is, but this is sinful."

"The meals are prepared by chefs."

Of course they were. "Are you terribly rich?"

He barely looked up from his reading. "Terribly."

"What does Harper Industries do?"

"It wouldn't interest you."

I took another spoonful of soup. "Try me."

"I invest. I buy and I sell."

"What?"

"Commodities."

I took the hint. "I know a little something about that. But, okay, if you don't want to talk about business, let's talk family."

"No."

I ignored him. "Do you have brothers and sisters?"

He shut the magazine again and laid it on the seat between us. "Is it too much to ask that you sit there quietly and eat so that I may enjoy a quiet flight?"

I inhaled my salad. "You're the one who wanted to keep me close."

"So I could keep an eye on you, not so you could yammer my ear off."

"Then you shouldn't have jumped in after me today. Do you have siblings?"

He took a long swig of his tonic water with lime. "I have an older brother and a younger sister."

"Do you suffer from middle child syndrome? Did you feel left out growing up?" I teased.

He didn't answer me. Had I accidentally struck a nerve?

"What are their names?"

He sighed heavily. "Hayes and Madison."

I nearly choked on my spinach as I began to laugh. "Hayes, Ford, and Madison? Was it your parents' intention to name all of you after presidents?"

Ford's glare turned colder than the river I'd jumped in. I stopped laughing. "My dad was a history buff. Most people forget Hayes 'was' a President of the United States."

"He was the 19th president. I like history, too. I can name every president and vice president we've ever had. What does the "A" in your middle name stand for?"

His brow creased in confusion and I held up a hand. "Your bath robe is monogrammed," I explained.

"Adams."

'Ford Adams Harper', I said to myself. His name kind of rolls off the tongue -- strong, intentional, delicious.

I charged forward. "You said your dad 'was' a history buff?"

"He's dead."

I sobered. "I'm sorry."

"Finish eating. We'll be landing soon."

I did as instructed and by the time I'd finished my soup, salad, and half of the other salad, the plane had rolled to a stop on a private airstrip at JFK.

I felt completely calm now, perhaps too calm, as we climbed into a waiting car on the tarmac and drove off. Having never been to New York before, I wanted to take in the sights and sounds of the city.

But my thoughts were operating as if they were in a blinding fog and I could only stare out the tinted windows. The sedative and the smooth ride of the car relaxed me and it wasn't long before my eyes shut in sleep.