She went down the aisle toward the front of the plane, stopping to admire each area with all its high-tech gadgetry, amazed that one could virtually do anything here that one could do on the ground. Feeling better, she returned to the suite. Lauren booted up her laptop and was able to use the Wi-Fi to check her e-mail.

She had an e-mail from Madison, with an attachment. She downloaded the file, opened it, and gasped. It was an ultrasound picture of the baby. She replied, telling her she was so excited and couldn’t wait to meet him or her. Lauren gave her a few details about the plane and told her she’d call her when she was home. With not much else to do, she picked up the iPhone to turn the television on. It had all the networks she had at home, and she found a program on the Garden Network, settled into one of the big lounge chairs, and kicked off her shoes. She totally relaxed, dozing off and on.

Startled when a male voice came across the intercom system, it took her a minute to remember where she was. Mr. Giampalo’s plane. The voice was just an update on the weather in Seattle, the usual spiel the captain gave to update the passengers. A little odd, she thought, since she was the only passenger.

There was a knock on the door, and she tucked a few stray hairs into place and slipped her heels on. “Come in,” she said, knowing Felicia would have most likely returned, bearing cake and coffee.

But Felicia was nowhere in sight.

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

She had no words. Am I dreaming? She blinked several times. This was not a dream.

“It’s you.”

“No, it’s you,” said a very familiar, sexy voice. “The girl from the Christmas store.”

Lauren couldn’t find words. All she could do was stare at Mr. Hunk. John. With the girlfriend whose birthday was on Christmas.

“I’m confused,” she said, and she was. “Very,” she added.

“You look different,” said Mr. Hunk.

“You’re the pilot?” she asked, seeing his uniform.

“Copilot.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

“You were late,” Lauren announced. As if it mattered.

“I was,” he agreed.

“Why are you here?”

“I fly the plane.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

“No, I meant, why are you here in this room?”

“Uh, you don’t know?”

“No.”

“I was going to take a nap.”

Lauren didn’t know where this conversation was heading. Something was not right.

“I’m sorry. I was told the executive suite was mine for the duration of the flight.”

“Obviously. Look,” Mr. Hunk said, “I don’t know what’s going on here, and from the look on your face, you don’t either. Let’s say we start over. Properly.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Hello, Lauren, the girl from the Christmas shop. I’m John Giampalo, the guy who collects music boxes.”