She tugged it on, then whipped around to the doorway. For a moment, she had thought he was there, had been sure of it. Then she realized it was his scent, clinging still to the shirt that was now brushing softly against her skin.

What was that fragrance, exactly? Experimentally she lifted her arm to sniff the sleeve. Nothing she could quite pinpoint. Something wild, erotic. Something you’d expect to catch just a whiff of in the forest in the dark of the moon.

Annoyed with herself, she pulled on her jeans. If this kept up, she’d actually start believing in witches.

After rolling the sleeves of the borrowed shirt up to her elbows, she went to investigate the galley. She helped herself to a banana, ignored a jar of caviar, and tossed some ham and cheese on a piece of bread.

“Got any mustard?” she called out, then swallowed a gasp when she felt his body bump against hers. He’d made no more sound than a ghost.

He reached over her head for a jar and handed it to her. “Want some wine?”

“I guess.” She slathered mustard on the bread, wishing there was a little more room to maneuver away from him in the small space. “I borrowed a shirt. Okay?”

“Sure.” He poured her wine and topped off his own glass. “You rested well.”

“Yeah, well, it helps the time pass.” The plane danced in some turbulence. His hand came down to steady her and stayed on her arm. “The pilot said there’d be a few bumps.” Testing both of them, he rubbed his thumb over the inside of her elbow. The pulse there was fast and steady. “We’ll be starting our descent soon.”

She lifted her face to his. Studying him, she felt what she had felt in the desert. The beginning of something. Mel wondered if she’d be less restless if she were able to see the end as well.

“Then we’d better sit down. And strap in.”

“I’ll take your wine.”

With a long breath of relief, she picked up her plate and followed him. As she dug happily into the sandwich, she noticed him smiling at her. “Problem?”

“I was just thinking that I really do owe you an actual meal.”

“You don’t owe me.” She took a sip of wine, and then, because it was so different, so delightfully different, from what she was used to, she sipped again. “I like paying my own way.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Mel tilted her head. “Some guys are intimidated by that.”

“Really?” A smile played around his lips. “I’m not. Still, after we’re finished, maybe you’d agree to dinner. A celebration of a job well done.”

“Maybe,” she said over a mouthful of sandwich. “We can flip to see who buys.”