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smile. Little did he know she had ulterior motives for wanting him well-rested when they arrived in Gingerbread.
    â€œNah, I’m fine.”
    â€œIf you say so. But I’m going to read for a while.” She dug in her messenger bag and pulled out her tablet. Moments later, she glanced up from the screen. He was out. For all she knew, he’d been up all night worrying about her invasion of his database.
    She couldn’t help feeling remorseful about what she’d put him through, but apparently it had been for a worthy cause. He’d been pining for her as much as she’d been pining for him. She returned to the screen, but it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the man beside her. Turning off the tablet, she leaned her head against her seatback and watched him sleep.
    She used to do that all the time in college. Maybe his habits had changed, but at that time he’d required eight to ten hours a night, while she could get by on five. When she’d wake up in his bed and he’d still be dead to the world, she’d lie there and study his features—the high cheekbones, the elegant nose, the square jaw.
    Sometimes she’d sketch that face. Tucking her tablet back in her bag, she took out the small sketchbook she carried with her, along with her favorite pencil. Although she’d never taken an art class and had no desire to study the subject, she sketched because it relaxed her.
    After Cole had left MIT so abruptly, she’d ripped up every sketch she’d made of him. Then she’d regretted destroying them, because they’d captured him in a way photographs never had. Now she could create some more.
    She became so lost in her work that she was surprised when the pilot announced they were landing. The flight attendant sat down and buckled up, which put her out of earshot.
    Cole blinked and lifted his head. Then he glanced at the sketchbook in her lap. His gaze met hers. “You’re still drawing?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œYou used to have a whole bunch like that. Well, I looked younger in them. In this version I notice a few extra lines here and there.”
    â€œGives you character.”
    â€œSure, it does.” He chuckled. “Whatever happened to the other ones?”
    â€œI tore them up.”
    He flinched. “Don’t blame you.” He lowered his voice. “That was a bonehead way to leave, but I had no choice.”
    â€œSo I gather.”
    Regret darkened his green eyes. “That idea you had? It won’t work.”
    She wasn’t about to let him wiggle out of her trap. “I was twenty when I ripped up those sketches. I’m not that same girl. I’ve toughened up.”
    He smiled. “Maybe I haven’t.”
    â€œWell, I can’t speak for you. But personally, I think it would be a crime to waste the opportunity.” She tapped the eraser end of her pencil against her lower lip, hoping to draw his attention there.
    It worked. He watched as she caressed her lip with the eraser. “I’m worried...” He stopped to clear his throat. “I’m worried about fallout.”
    â€œAre you?” She nibbled on the eraser. “We never had that problem before. Everything stayed where it was supposed to.”
    He launched into such a violent coughing fit that the flight attendant called back to ask if he needed water. “I’m fine,” he said in a strangled voice. “No worries.”
    â€œHere.” Taryn took out the complimentary bottle of water she’d been offered during the limo ride to the airport and thrust it into his hand. “Drink.”
    He nodded and gulped some water. Then he sank back against his seat. “You need to warn me before you say something like that.”
    â€œThat would take all the fun out of it.”
    He handed her the bottle with a grin. “Honest to God, Taryn. There’s no one quite like you.”
    â€œI am somewhat of a special