The moment they’d hit cruising height, she’d ranged her long body out on the couch, closed her eyes, and gone under, as quickly and easily as an exhausted infant. He understood that energy, like any power, had to be recharged, and he’d left her alone.

Sebastian had indulged in a long shower and changed into some of the spare clothes he kept aboard the Lear. While he enjoyed a light lunch, he made a few phone calls. And waited.

It was an odd journey, to say the least. Himself and the sleeping woman, hurtling away from the sun after a night of racing toward it. When it was over, there would be broken hearts and mended ones. Fate always charged a fee.

And he would have crossed a continent with a woman he found annoying, desirable, and incomprehensible.

She stirred, murmured something, then opened her eyes. He watched the cloudy green sharpen and focus as she pushed past the disorientation. She stretched once—it was a brisk, businesslike movement, and it was incredibly sexy—then rolled herself to a sitting position.

“How much longer?” Her voice was still husky with sleep, but he could see the energy pouring back.

“Less than an hour.”

“Good.” After running a hand through her hair, she lifted her head, scenting the air. “Do I smell food?”

He had to smile. “In the galley. There’s a shower to starboard if you want to wash up.”

“Thanks.”

She chose the shower first. It wasn’t easy, but she didn’t want to act unduly impressed that the man could snap his fingers and call up his own plane—a plane fitted out with deep pile carpeting, its own cozy bedroom, and a galley that made her kitchen at home look like someone’s closet. Obviously the psychic business paid well.

She should have checked his background, Mel thought now as she wrapped herself in a robe and tiptoed into the bedroom. But she’d been so sure that she would be able to talk Rose out of using him that she hadn’t bothered. Now here she was, some thirty thousand feet up, with a man she knew much too little about.

She’d remedy that the moment they touched down in Monterey again. Though, of course, if things went as she hoped, there would be no need to. Once David was back where he belonged, her association with Sebastian Donovan would be over.

Still, she might run a background check on him, just out of curiosity.

Lips pursed, Mel poked into his closet. He liked silk and cashmere and linen, she discovered. Spotting a denim shirt, she yanked it out. At least he had something practical, and she sure could use some fresh clothes.