She adjusted the strap on her shoulder bag as she scanned for him, a hand above her eyes to shield the June sun that was shooting balls of fire. The small executive airport was relatively quiet today; there were only a few other guys in suits meeting passengers here. Nate was a guy in a suit too, but he’d ditched his jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up the cuffs on his sleeves. When she spotted him, her lips curved up in a big smile and she waved. She walked over to him, and damn, did she look fantastic from top to bottom.

Eyes up, eyes up.

When she reached him she planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and the citrus-y scent of her hair that was so very her drifted into his nose. “You’ve completely spoiled me, I’m afraid. I can’t ever fly commercial again after this kind of treatment,” she said.

“The full treatment?” He arched an eyebrow. “And to think, I’ve told the flight attendants time and time again to stop all the naughty play on my jet, but they must have been unable to resist you,” he said dryly. She swatted him on the arm, then laughed as he took her suitcase and rolled it behind him as they headed across the tarmac, the midday heat and omnipresent humidity pelting them from above.

“I was actually referring to the high-speed wireless in the sky you’ve got going on, which I made ample use of, as well as the risotto for lunch and Perrier,” she said, pointing her thumb back in the direction of the Gulfstream Nate had acquired full use of when he’d been wooed, courted and won in a search two years ago for a new Chief Executive Officer of The Luxe line of luxury hotels.

When they reached the terminal, they were greeted by a blast of arctic air from the overactive AC units that were operating at full throttle in New Orleans these days.

“Damn,” he said in a low whistle, shaking his head. “Makes me so sad to think you worked the entire flight. You’re such a workaholic.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Touché,” he said because they were equally addicted to their jobs. They both logged long hours and late nights, their midnight emails to each other almost always answered within minutes, and took countless cross-country and transcontinental flights. “Speaking of, are you ready for your meeting?”

She nodded, pushing a few loose strands of hair off her shoulder. “Absolutely. I freshened up on the plane, and brushed my teeth. Want to smell my minty-clean breath?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was actually referring to your proposal for the lingerie company,” he said, slinging her previous words back at her.

“Oh, the partnership proposal for Grant. That teeny, tiny little thing?” She waved a hand as if it were no big deal. But he knew how important it was to her. She turned serious. “I reviewed it a few more times, and practiced my pitch on the plane. I’ve got it down pat and I’m hopeful,” she said, holding up her hand as she twisted her index and middle finger together, “that he’s ready to play ball.”