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that were horrid, and all Stuart could think about was kissing them, and what would happen the moment he did. He had to force his gaze from contemplation of them back to the big screen in order to answer.
    “Well, that does explain why he hasn’t contacted me for the final payment.”
    “You paid too much, didn’t you?”
    “The down payment was five million. Moved via wire transfer to an account that was immediately drained and then closed. I know. I checked. He never sent me information on where to send the final five. And just why don’t you already know this?”
    “He was experienced. And good. No wonder he charged so much.”
    “So much? It was a complicated hit. He told me so.”
    “There were only five guards. They would’ve been easy.”
    Stuart looked sidelong at her, and back to the black and white view of WWII-era tanks rolling across the screen. “How would you know?”
    “Prince Ada Majin was my hit. Your man stole him. For that, he paid with his life. I had the same planned for you.”
    “What stopped you?”
    “That’s a question I’ve been asking myself since we met, Doctor Stuart Emerson Findlay…the Third.”
    Her voice drew out each of his names, lingering on them as if they tasted of chocolate or something even better. Stuart gulped and watched her move, sliding effortlessly from her chair and onto a position atop his thighs. He supposed she’d shove her fingers through his hair next, and started hoping for it. The jet angled into a descent, taking the situation out of his hands, and in the next moment he was attached to those red lips, sucking a kiss into play that would lead to much more. The intercom sparking to life with Vaughn’s voice ruined it.
    “Good morning. It’s four-twenty-one a.m. in beautiful Nice, France. We’ll be touching down at Cote d’Azur International Airport in ten minutes. From there, it’s a short forty minute drive along the equally beautiful coast of the French Riviera. It’s a shame we’re so early nobody will get to see the exquisite view, but there you go. Right on time. As specified.”
    The intercom buzzed off, and the plane angled even farther, placing his dream woman fully into his arms.
    “Why won’t we see it?”
    Stuart asked it amid kisses, and if she wanted to arrive looking crisp and perfect she should probably stop running her fingernails along the shadow stripes in his black shirt. She was creating a friction of sensation, and he wasn’t remotely immune. That’s when he decided that if he’d earned insanity and got stuck in this dreamscape, it wasn’t a bad way to go, after all. Except…maybe the History Channel stuff.
    The plane touched down with a tap that showed off her pilot’s skill, and the moment he opened his eyes he saw she was back in her chair, swaying one crossed leg at him.
    “You closed your eyes.”
    “Uh…I had something in them.” He hadn’t conquered the defensive tone in his voice, yet, either.
    “You’re afraid of flying?”
    “Never. I just get air-sick.”
    “Really? When?”
    She was right. He hadn’t felt one queasy episode. Not one. Come to think of it, he’d never felt better. Even the gouges she’d put in his flesh earlier were gone. Not one scrape mark. No cut. No scab. Just perfect skin. Healed, without one scar.
    “It isn’t the flying that bothers me as much as the landings. You could’ve stayed over here and helped, you know.”
    “You’re a bit…impatient.”
    “I’m impatient? Look who’s talking. Come back over here. I’ll show you impatient.”
    She shook her head.
She shook her head no?
That wasn’t a good sign if he was stuck in this for life.
    “Later. I’ve got to blend in with the crowd now.”
    “You? Blend in? Please tell me you’re joking.”
    “I’m very good at my job, Stuart.”
    “Of course you are. Vampires are very good at all sorts of things, aren’t they?”
    She smiled and there wasn’t a hint of a fang in sight on perfectly aligned, white teeth.