"You can do this."

I shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Yes. You can."

Could I? My biggest fear was about to come true. We were as good as dead. I took a deep, shuddering breath. My jaw locked with terror. There was nothing I could do, really, other than follow directions. I wasn't able to control this situation.

Nothing I could do but let life happen. And, apparently, death.

"I can do this," I said, extricating myself from his embrace.

"That's right." Colin nodded, his blue eyes steady and unblinking.

I tightened my belt and leaned into the seat back, clasped my hands behind my skull and prayed. To my surprise, I'd stopped crying. I tried to breathe deep as the plane descended and dipped, making my stomach nauseous and my ears sear with a sharp, popping pain.

But the worst, the absolute worst, was the eerie silence in the cabin. No one cried or whimpered or yelled. Well, except for me.

With each bump, my stomach flip-flopped. The plane sliced through clouds, the rolling turbulence causing me to gasp and cry out. This was bad, much more terrifying than I'd ever imagined during any panic attack. The descent was minute after minute of total fear.

When the engine whirred with a distressing noise, I felt a big hand grip my thigh.

Colin.

Risking his own safety to touch me.

So I did the same, taking my arm off the seat in front of me. My hand found his and we held on, tight. His grip now matched mine.

And then—BAM!

We touched down hard.

I was shaking from head to toe, and Colin snatched me close. Somehow I felt safer back in his arms, although I knew any number of things still could happen. Maybe we had no brakes. Maybe the plane was on fire. Maybe the tail had fallen off.

But then, we stopped. The plane began to taxi, presumably to the gate, as if we landed normally. Out the corner of my eye, I could see the red lights of emergency vehicles flashing through the plane's windows.

Passengers clapped. I heard the vulgar guy yell some stupid line from the movie Airplane from the front of the cabin, and I laughed out of nervousness.

I eased out of Colin's arms, and we stared at each other. His blue eyes were almost overtaken by his dilated black irises. He was breathing nearly as hard as I was, and then he chuckled. My heart soared and beat hard for a reason other than fear. Maybe it was our near-death experience or maybe it was his sensual mouth or the way a hint of stubble seemed to have emerged on his jaw since we took off.

"We survived," I laughed, giddy.

"We survived," he replied, and people around us whooped in celebration.

His eyes landed on my mouth, and irrationally, I wanted his lips on mine. I hadn't been kissed in years, and now that I was good and alive, I wanted a kiss.

But the flight attendant's voice sliced through my thoughts.

"Welcome to Reykjavik, Iceland, where the local time is eight-thirty p.m. We'll have more instructions about rerouting you to London inside the terminal."

* * *

The Keflavik International Airport was miniscule. Nothing like London or Miami. But because we'd made an emergency landing, firefighters, paramedics, and police greeted us, all heaving sighs of relief as we walked in. One cluster of airline workers even clapped at our arrival.

The terminal was devoid of other passengers on other flights, and airline personnel split us into a few groups, based on seat assignment, and briefed us on our rerouting options.

I stood next to Colin and listened. And thought about how he was very, very tall.

"Well, we're having a spot of, uh, bad news today," an efficient-looking blonde woman said to our group. "There are no other planes leaving to London tonight. Or tomorrow. Or possibly the next day. You see, our airspace has been closed to normal air traffic out of an abundance of caution. We have a volcano in Iceland that has shown...how do you say...signs of erupting, and we are concerned about the small microparticles of lava in the air. Your plane landed only because it was a complete emergency."

I frowned. A volcano? Would lava rain down on us? Did I need to worry about this now? I pressed a palm to my chest.

Groans rippled through our group. I craned my head to look up at Colin's face. His mouth was set in a line, and he didn't appear thrilled.

Neither was I, frankly, but because I was alive and had survived an emergency landing—a crash landing, in my mind—it made me not care about an unscheduled weekend in Iceland. Even with a volcano. Couldn't they keep the lava from reaching the capitol? What was the worst that could happen? I considered a long-ago visit to Pompeii and those ash-covered people and swallowed.

No, I had to push anxious thoughts aside. I'd spend a night or two at a nice hotel with room service. Although I'd never been to Iceland, the fact that I didn't have to get on another plane for possibly seventy-two hours buoyed my spirits.

I'd slip into crisp, white sheets in the hotel, take the e-reader out of my bag, and tuck into a good book. It would be like a mini-vacation, hunkered in the safety of the hotel. Room service, a nice glass of wine. Bliss. And perhaps Colin and I could have dinner together in the hotel lobby—

I stopped myself from fantasizing any more about that. No, being in the hotel would be enough pleasure.

Of all the things I'd missed while being a virtual shut-in at my estate, hotels were chief among them. At first, I'd stay in New York, Miami, or Sarasota a few times a year, or I'd travel to Savannah with my sister and my nieces and nephews.

As things got worse with my husband, my universe grew smaller and smaller. I'd chalked it up to work. Everything I needed could be delivered to my house, so it simply wasn't necessary to leave.

This was supposed to have been my big week to reintroduce myself to the outside world.

Now that I'd survived the worst, maybe my world would expand. I smiled. Maybe the hotel would have luxury bathrobes and slippers.

The airline employee was still rambling as I mused about my good luck. "So we will have to find you all hotels. But the trouble is, it's Summer Solstice, and many of them are booked due to a large music festival. And others have come in to watch the volcano. But we'll see what we can do. Right now, we will escort you to the baggage claim where you can gather your suitcases, and then expedite you to immigration and customs."

Colin looked down at me and sighed.

"Not happy about this, are you?" I asked.

"No. My meeting tomorrow was with one of London's biggest developers. My brother Caleb and I were set to propose a project with them. In fact—" he took his phone out of his pocket "—I need to call him. If you'll excuse me."

"Of course." Colin had no obligation to babysit me, and it was clear he didn't much care about following the directions of the airline staff. He'd been kind to me on the flight out of a sense of politeness and worry over my condition, I'm sure, and for that I was grateful.

But I knew our time together had come to an end.

I couldn't lie; I was a little disappointed. I didn't often meet such well-heeled men, and never ones who were that searingly handsome.

Despite his in-flight manners, he didn't say a final goodbye to me now that we were on the ground. Still, I wasn't the type to angle for more. If a man was interested, he would show it. And Colin, who stalked away to an empty corner of the terminal to talk on the phone, clearly didn't seem interested. I watched him for a few seconds as he stood near a window and talked. From the way he pursed his lips to how he made measured gestures in the air with his hand, I guessed he was a natural businessman.

He was so captivating that I was almost left behind by our group of first-class passengers. I trotted off after them to baggage claim, making sure to stay far away from that vulgar man from Miami. He grumbled and swore as he walked. At the baggage claim, I hung back, waiting for my black leather Tumi bag to emerge on the carousel.

More passengers from the plane joined us, until the baggage claim area was packed with people. I swiveled my neck, looking up and down the conveyor for my bag. And for Colin. I didn't spot either and tapped my foot.

After many minutes, airline workers had taken all but a few people out of the

baggage area. The blonde woman from the airline approached and inquired about my luggage.

My eyes darted around the carousel, which was empty. "No, I haven't seen it. It was a large, black leather bag."

"Ma'am, let's go to the computer and try to sort this out. I'm so sorry, after all you've been through with the landing."

I nodded and dug out the crumpled baggage ticket I'd received curbside in Miami. My driver had helped me check in the suitcase and had handed me the tag. I'd been so nervous I'd stuffed it inside my purse without any regard. Normally I was more precise about things.

Once inside a small office, the woman's fingers flew over the keyboard. A furrow of worry creased her peaches-and-cream skin.

"Ms. Citrouille, I am very sorry. Your bag went to Los Angeles, according to the system."

I scowled. "Los Angeles?"

____