On the ride to the airport, neither of us speaks. I watch her from the corner of my eye as she looks out the window at the city lights passing by, but I don’t press her to talk. She’s in her head, working on knots. I know better than to interrupt her.
The moment we’re in the cabin of my jet, I pull her into my arms and kiss her deeply.
She responds by making a small sound of relief and sagging against me, as if her knees are giving out.
I fist a hand in her hair. She clings to my shoulders. We kiss in hot desperation until the airstairs fold up and the cabin door closes. Then she opens her eyes and stares deep into mine.
In a breathy voice, she says, “So you’re a spy for the US government.”
“No. I’m a spy for the Irish government.”
She takes a moment to digest that, blinking slowly in surprise. “A double agent?”
“More like a free agent. Nobody knows what I’m really up to.”
After an astonished pause, she exhales a slow breath, shaking her head. “That explains a lot.”
“So it’s settled, then.”
“What is?”
“We’re getting married.”
After a beat, she hides her face in my chest and dissolves into laughter.
I caress her hair and smile. “Where should we go on our honeymoon?”
“Where’s the closest insane asylum?”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
I say firmly, “It’s not up for discussion.”
“You have no idea how women work, do you?”
“You’re not the typical woman.”
“There’s zero chance we’re getting married.”
“Why, you want a three-year courtship followed by the fluffy white wedding dress and the white picket fence?”
“Fuck no.”
“I didn’t think so. It’s settled.”
“Declan!”
“Enough for one night, woman. You can yell at me about it later.”
When she remains stiff and resistant in my arms, I add softly, “Please.”
“Oh, you’re evil.”
“You have no idea.”
She says drily, “I think I have a clue.”
I kiss her again, this time even harder.
It’s not altitude that makes me feel like I’m flying, because we’re not even up in the air yet.
