Of all the days for Shannon Murphy's controlling ass of an ex to show up and harass her in her driveway, Trent just had to pick today. Three years since she'd broken their engagement, but the bastard wouldn't take a fucking hint. Stifling her frustrated groan as he stalked closer, Shannon fumbled for the keys in her pocket with suddenly sweaty fingers, longing for the nearby safety of her Toyota RAV4. No way would she be fast enough.

Damn it. Why hadn't she left just five minutes sooner?

Rage twisted Trent's deceptive blond and blue-eyed Nordic features—an outwardly handsome man, he'd fooled Shannon for a few years before she'd recognized the sadistic predator lurking inside. Faster than she could evade, the two-hundred-pound former hockey player lunged, and like a striking viper, those iron-like fingers cut into her upper arm as she reached to open the SUV's door. She bit back a pained cry. It would only encourage the bastard.

"Where are you going?" Trent snarled, yanking at the dark-blue backpack hooked over her shoulder.

Shannon struggled to keep her feet as his tug arched her back and threw her off balance. "To work—"

"Lying bitch!" His fingers squeezed tighter, and a pulse of agony shot up her arm. "This is your travel backpack. What poor sucker did you con with an inept, frigid fuck between your fat thighs? Or was it your traitorous tongue sucking his cock that got you the grant money for this trip?" A disgusting spray of spittle hit her cheek as she leaned away from his venomous words.

Closing her eyes, she tried to tune out and endure, to not respond. It was the only way to keep from further inflaming him. He'd usually leave when he didn't get the reaction he wanted.

Not today, though.

No, today he ground the muscle of her arm into the bone, and she fought her rising nausea. Towering over her and using his far greater strength, Trent was damn determined to make him impossible to ignore. His smile sent chills down her spine when unwilling tears betrayed the pain she refused to acknowledge.

"Let her go, Trent. I've already called nine-one-one," called a familiar voice from the street.

With a snarl, Trent shoved Shannon away. As she caught her balance against her vehicle's mirror, muscles sagging in relief, her best friend approached, phone held to her ear. Thank gods.

Lynda murmured into the cell and repeated Shannon's address, nodding at whatever she heard.

"I'm going, you fucking scag." Trent swung a fist at Lynda's face and she side-stepped him quickly, despite her four-inch heels and tight pencil skirt. Glaring at him as spots of colour appeared on her pale cheeks, she continued talking into her phone. Swearing, Trent hurried down the driveway. Tires squealed as he floored his black Mustang, fishtailing down the road.

Good fucking riddance.

Skin crawling, Shannon yanked open the door of her SUV, dropped her backpack, and dug in the centre console for a wet wipe. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. With shaking hands, she cleaned the spit from her face. A shudder wracked her. Despite repeated scrubbing, the foul sensation lingered. Gods, she had to get him off of her.

Lynda's fingers closed around Shannon's, halting her frantic scouring and drawing her into a hug. The embrace was a quick pat on the back that left a good six inches of air between them before Lynda released her, but it was enough to disrupt the creeping sensation in Shannon's flesh. No way would her best friend let the clasp wrinkle her perfectly coiffed appearance.

Lynda rolled her eyes. "So much for that restraining order."

Used to Lynda's lack of affection, Shannon didn't hide her small smile at the stilted attempt at comfort. Nor did she muffle her snort as her friend brushed manicured fingernails through a stylish blond chin-length bob and smoothed a hand down her mauve suit jacket. Lynda never presented anything but an immaculate appearance to the world.

"Thank you. Perfect timing on your part. Are the cops on the way?" Shannon frowned when her friend tucked her iPhone back into her purse. Aren't you supposed to stay on the line when you call nine-one-one?

Lynda waved a careless hand. "What are best friends for? No, I didn't actually call anyone."

Despite the spikes of pain throbbing up and down Shannon's arm as she shifted her backpack into the passenger seat, a small burble of amusement emerged. Trent wasn't the smartest, but he made up for it by being a vicious bully. Good thing he hadn't seen through Lynda's ruse or he might have gone after both of them. At just over six feet tall and made of solid muscle, the former athlete-turned-academic was more than either woman could handle. Even if Shannon had taken a couple years of self-defence lessons after breaking up with him.

"Let's get you to the airport." Lynda held out a hand. "I've got just enough time to drop you off and bring your car back before I need to head to a meeting. Another potential client," she said with a satisfied twist of her lips and an excited gleam in her cornflower-blue eyes.

Shannon dropped the keys into Lynda's outstretched palm and moved around the vehicle. "Thanks. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. Anyone I know?" As they drove off to Lynda's rapid-fire chatter about the wealthy businessman she hoped would hire her marketing company, Shannon murmured occasional encouragement while trying to stifle the shaking in her limbs, adrenaline still surging through her system. 

Two hours later, Shannon's gaze lingered on the beautiful wood-carved artwork of Raven on the concourse wall. The trickster was a cultural hero across the First Nations Peoples of coastal British Columbia, and his stories were her favourite. She couldn't help but smile at the connection with her heritage despite the tension wound around her spine—a constrictor ruthlessly choking the life from her. If only Raven would turn his mischief against Trent.

The image of the carving coming alive, taking flight, and bursting from Vancouver airport to chase down her ex-fiancé had Shannon biting back an unexpected laugh as she held out her boarding pass and passport. Gods, if only.

The gate attendant returned the documents with a polite nod. "Welcome aboard, Doctor Murphy."

"Thank you." After heading through the doorway and down the ramp, she reached the plane. The first-class section had large, deep seats with alternating rows for privacy. She'd almost cried at the complimentary upgraded ticket when she'd checked in, and now, as she searched for her row, Shannon practically skipped through the aisle. About damn time her luck changed today.

Releasing a long sigh, she sank into the luxury window seat, shoved her backpack underneath, and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the mental replay of Trent's latest visit. Ugh, as if work hadn't been stressful enough this week. Trent's nastiness was the shit icing on her already crappy cupcake.

She rolled her shoulders to loosen the knots, drew in a breath and let it out in another slow exhale as she opened her eyes to the window and view of the coastal mountains. It had been a gorgeous August day, warm but not hot, yet bright and sunny. The clear skies were darkening, with the sunset reflecting off the few clouds near the north shore mountains. Brilliant reds and oranges contrasted with the rich emerald green of the coniferous forests that surrounded her home—her sole source of solace these past few years. As much as she loved it, fuck, did she need to escape, to get away for a while.

"Pardon me, love. I believe I'm your seatmate for this journey," a British-accented baritone voice stated.

Turning from the window with a smile, Shannon froze as she recognized the face of the man lifting a guitar case into the overhead bin above her, a face she'd only ever seen on the big screen or album covers.

Holy shit. No way.

With the ruthlessness of flame devouring dry tinder, heat crept up her cheeks. She took in his tall, athletic build, his beautifully tailored black blazer, and soft white Henley. His bright auburn hair was cut short on the sides and slightly longer on top, setting off his handsome face. A scruffy start to a beard surrounded a pair of narrow lips, currently pressed together in apparent concentration.

Not noticing her reaction, he removed his jacket and handed it to the flight attendant standing beside him with a hanger. Shannon hadn't even noticed the airline crew. Instead, her thoughts stuttered at the identity of her seatmate. Was he really sitting next to her? Could she truly be that lucky?

As he shoved up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing leanly muscled forearms, he looked down at her with a curious tilt to his head, smiling as their eyes finally met.

All the moisture disappeared from her mouth. "Hi, I'm Doctor Murphy, I mean, I'm Murphy... Shannon... Shannon Murphy," she corrected. She blinked a few times then got a hold of herself enough to offer her hand as a mental voice sounding suspiciously like her mother's chided her. Good gods, Shannon. You'd think you'd never seen a handsome man before with the foolish way you're acting.

His smile widened, revealing dimples, as pale-blue eyes like an early spring sky twinkled with mischief. "You don't know for sure?" When he sat, he took her hand and kissed the back of it with a gentle caress of his thumb across her fingers. "Nice to meet you, Shannon. I'm Tod."

Was her blush visible? Please, no. Surely the light was too dim?

He stroked his thumb over her fingers a second time before releasing her. Holy hell, it had been years since she'd responded to anyone, but his light touch sent shivers up her arm and through her body with an entirely different, much more pleasurable tension than had troubled her minutes before.

"Yes, I'm aware. My brother is a fan of Raven's Chaos. He has all your albums, and I re-watched The Assassin's Quest a few days ago," she said in as even a voice as she could manage, despite the rapid heartbeat thundering in her ears.

"Ah, I'm found out then." He smiled with a self-deprecating twist of his lips. "So what kind of doctor are you?"

His response had her blinking, at a momentary loss for words. While she enjoyed his songs, and yes, admired his fine form from afar—okay, so she'd totally drooled at those shirtless scenes in his movies—she'd never considered him as an individual. Shannon would have expected someone as outgoing as the lead singer/songwriter of a chart-topping band and a popular actor to want to talk about himself.

"An ecologist, a professor at one of the local universities. I study climate change effects on our regional environments, like the coastal temperate rainforests and the drier pine forests of the British Columbian interior," she replied when she got over her surprise.

"A scientist then. Which university? There are a couple in Vancouver, correct?"

"Victoria Charles," she replied. "The one on the mountain." She pointed through the window.

As he shifted closer, bracing on the seat in front of her to peer where she'd indicated, the fragrance of orange, leather, and wood enveloped her. An intrinsically male scent, it sank into her skin, dove deep inside and woke long-buried instincts.

She caught herself leaning in to inhale, halting abruptly.

Smooth, very smooth, Shannon. Just blurt out how long she'd been out of the dating game, why didn't she? Or that she hadn't had sex in... good lord, over four years.

At her aborted movement, his gaze met hers, a slow smile quirking up one side of his lips. Those playfully intense blue eyes ensnared her. She couldn't look away, even as her breath escaped in little pants. He slowly raised his right hand, and the backs of his fingers brushed lightly along her cheek. Her lungs froze on a gasp.

Time halted for one beat of her heart, then a second, and at the third, her body finally remembered how to breathe.

"You had an eyelash," he said as she remained captivated. "What's it like, being a professor?" With a featherlight touch, he skimmed his fingertips over her cheek a second time and sat back in his seat.

"I... um... well."

Shannon struggled to gather her thoughts. Famous or not, his in-person charisma was nothing short of divine. This man did not need to rely on any movie magic or sound mixers. Not with that purring voice, those mesmerizing eyes. Incredibly distracted, she stifled the completely inappropriate impulses that kept popping into her head, like licking that little divot in his chin below those expressive, kissable lips, running her fingers through his hair, or feeling the scruff of his beard on her skin. Maybe her inner thighs. Damn it. Fuuuck.

"It's great." Her voice squeaked, and with a quick clearing of her throat, she forced her tone back to its normal range. "I love being outside in the forests with my grad students. It's the research that drives me, discovering how the world around us works, and contributing to saving it in practical ways." As she told him the details, he nodded with every appearance of listening intently. If only her thoughts would stay on track instead of being hijacked by her suddenly lively libido.

"Is that why you're travelling to London?"

She released a shaky breath, fighting to calm her rapid pulse, and nodded. "It's a week-long conference starting the day after tomorrow. This meeting only happens every four years between the Europeans and North Americans." It would be a blend of scientific talks, social mixers, and prospective job offers, and by all the gods, Shannon had been looking forward to the much-needed escape from the day-to-day stresses of grant writing, publishing, entitled students, difficult colleagues, and—especially—misogynistic administrators.

She was burned out. Even research didn't bring the same joy anymore. Not with everything else weighing her down.

Shannon desperately needed a break, some time and distance to think about how to fix her life. A serious change was in order, but only if the right opportunity came along. Changing universities was a big step, and she wouldn't jeopardize her success. Not after dedicating so much of her life to her career.

Her career was all she had.

After her engagement to Trent died in spectacular fashion with a screaming row at a faculty event, she'd buried herself in work, in the success of her science, and avoided romantic entanglements—men were too much effort and way too much drama. Any time she forgot that lesson, it was reinforced by Trent's periodic reappearances.

This trip was her mental salvation and an excellent chance to explore new possibilities.

Although holy moly, she'd not expected her flight to start like this. Her palms damp from titillated arousal she hadn't felt in years, Shannon rubbed her hands slowly over her black jeans. The Fates were certainly having fun with her today. Or was Raven messing with her? If her mom's stories were to be believed, that damn trickster would enjoy this kind of mischief.

A little smile curled at the edges of Tod's lips as his gaze flicked down to Shannon's restless hands then back to her face, and he tilted his head slightly. "You are an intriguing woman, Doctor Murphy. I don't often meet scientists. Do you teach in addition to your research?"

What thought put that wicked smile on his lips? She blinked and pulled her attention back, even as she flexed her fingertips over the denim covering her thighs. Gods, she wanted... Stop fantasizing, Shannon! No way was he actually interested in her. Not that way, at least. "Yes, three courses per year. When students want to be there, teaching is great. It's awful when they don't participate. Just standing in front of them, delivering information, isn't my cup of tea. Ideally, I'd like my courses to be interactive, interesting, and dynamic."

He wrinkled his nose. "Yes, from my student perspective at uni, I did not enjoy purely lecture courses nearly as much as those that required a more active role. What do you teach?"

"What did you take—" A crackle over the speaker cut off Shannon's question as a flight attendant started the preflight briefing and the crew demonstrated the aircraft's safety features. She glanced from the nearby steward back to Tod.

He was watching her, not the crew.

When Shannon's gaze met his again, nerves squirmed in her belly. Damn, he had such beautiful eyes. Like a wolf, maybe... definitely some kind of predator. Yeah, he could eat her all up. A wave of heat rose in her chest and face as the fantasy image sent her heart thundering, and she bit back a whimper. Holy crap, she couldn't believe she'd just thought that. In front of him. Fuck.

Trying to not fidget or reveal her racing lascivious thoughts, she turned and reached for the seat belt that had fallen between the seat and the window. She fought to hide her wince as she bumped her arm. Damn Trent and his iron grip. No doubt she had a ring of bruises to remind her of his unwanted touch.

But all thoughts of her ex fled when she sat back with the buckle in hand.

Tod held the other side of her seat belt. Eyes wide, her breath caught as he slowly took the buckle from her clasp, giving her every chance to stop him. She was unable to look away, and his mesmerizing gaze stole every thought from her head while he connected the two sides then tightened the strap snugly.

Yet, not too tight.

No—oh my gods—he used his fingers between her body and the buckle as a guide. Those long graceful fingers in her lap had heat pooling, her thighs pressing together, and her pulse thrumming an eager dance she'd been sure her body had long forgotten. She didn't dare move, frozen, snared by the erotic potential hanging in the air.

His perusal flicked from his hands to her eyes, back down to his hands, and a quick grin twitched at the corners of his lips as he met her gaze again. Sitting back, he said, "You're all set" as he buckled himself in.

Shannon exhaled a shaky breath. He had to be flirting. Surely, she was reading him right? Holy moly, it had been so long. She wasn't certain if her sex-starved brain was misreading what seemed to be clear signs of interest. If she woke when the flight landed in London to find this was a dream, she was going to be so pissed.

Her voice was husky when she thanked him quietly. Had he heard her over the flight attendant announcement?

"My pleasure, I'm sure," he replied, winking.

"Not just yours," she muttered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that?" he inquired with a slight smirk, his blue eyes dancing.

She narrowed her gaze. He was playing games, the sexy bastard. "You know exactly what I said."

But why her? Was he toying to see if she was interested or... oh gods, please tell her she didn't have sex-starved nerdy professor stamped on her forehead like she was some bloody internet meme. She wasn't beautiful like those perfect slim twenty-somethings with big boobs he was usually seen with. She was boring, normal, with dull olive skin, plain brown hair, and on the border of having to shop in the plus-sized clothes section. She fought back memories of the numerous insults Trent had made about her body over the years.

No, there was no way Tod's interest was sincere.

His smirk spread into a wide smile that lit his expression, and he laughed. "Yes, you are definitely intriguing. This is going to be a very enjoyable flight."

As the plane accelerated down the runway, Shannon squirmed and pressed her legs together tighter. How was she going to survive a nine-and-a-half-hour flight next to this man? She was going to make a fool of herself, for sure.