She’d fallen asleep over northern Florida, about two hours back, and Jason hadn’t heard a peep from her since. Now her eyes opened, not fluttering but popping wide open in an instant, making him wonder if something had startled her. Maybe the air current they’d just hit, which had caused the Bonanza to bounce a little, or maybe the change in the droning of the engine as he’d increased the speed to 210 knots to combat the prevailing crosswind. “Hey,” he said. She stared at him hard, as if it was taking her a minute to compute who he was. Then she sat up, shaking the tousled mass of her glorious hair back from her face, rubbing her hands over her sleep-heavy eyes. The cut on her cheek, which, once she had washed the blood off her face in the onboard restroom, had proven to be little more than a long scratch, was still visible against her pale skin. Her left shoulder had a bruise the size of a baseball. Otherwise, their ordeal had left her unmarked. He couldn’t help it: he snuck a quick, admiring glance at the pert little tits that sat up with her, on display now that she had jettisoned his coat and shirt.
