“Please don’t let mine be one of them,” she murmured, afraid to stop to check for fear seconds could cost her the seat with her name attached.

Arriving at her gate, the empty waiting room seats emphasised just how late she was for boarding. The doors to the entry ramp were still open, and that meant she’d made it on time.

Eager to confirm she was right, Julie hurried to the counter and presented the attendant behind the counter her ticket. “Please tell me I’m not too late for this flight.”

The forty-something woman smiled and pushed the rims of her black glasses back onto her face. “You’re in luck. We’ve boarded the last group, but the flight’s been delayed fifteen minutes.”

A sigh of relief slid past Julie’s lips. “Thank you. And you’re right. That’s luck because I really need to be on this flight. Do you think I dare sneak away for some food to take on the plane with me before I board?” It was nearly eight at night and divorce negotiations had been so heated, she’d never gotten her sandwich down.

“If you hurry and I do mean hurry,” she said. “Rush back.”

“I will,” Julie promised. “Thank you, again. Please don’t let them shut the doors without me.”

“I won’t,” the woman promised. “I’m going to check in with the crew and I’ll flag your name as present.” The woman rushed away and Julie stuffed her ticket inside her purse, ready to seek out the nearest restaurant.

She made it all of four or five steps before she stumbled over Lord-only-knew-what – a cord of some sort she thought – and nearly fell flat on her face. She righted her ankle, thankfully avoiding a sprain, but her briefcase took the tumble for her, sliding down her shoulder and hitting the ground. The contents spilled out.

“That’s why you should zip it,” she mumbled, holding her skirt down to squat in as much of a lady-like fashion as was possible considering the circumstances.

“Need help?”

Julie froze at the sound of a familiar male voice that couldn’t possible belong to who she thought it did, when the tingling awareness down her spine told her it was indeed exactly who she thought it was. Luke Walker, the brother of her best friend’s soon-to-be husband. Not only did Luke and his two brothers run Walker Security, they held a number of airport consulting contracts, including this one. She squeezed her eyes shut at her predicament, at having the very man she’d avoided at all cost for the last six months standing above her.

Slowly, her gaze lifted, travelling upward in what felt like slow motion. She took in muscular, denim-clad legs, a tapered waist, and an impressive chest. He bent down, a wisp of his dark hair brushing his brow, his rich, chocolate-brown stare capturing hers and leaving her speechless.

Memories of the two of them together, of a too short, heated affair that had happened when he’d been on leave from the SEALs, rushed through her. It had been a safe fling, short-lived, and without the strings and complications that she knew from experience led couples straight to divorce court. But he wasn’t a SEAL anymore, and he wasn’t leaving this time, and after struggling to shake off the impact he’d had on her ever since they’d parted ways, she’d accepted that nothing about him had ever been safe.

“How are you here when I’m here?” she whispered. The timing was impossible, regardless of his contracts.

“Luck it seems,” he said, and those full, sensual lips she knew could be both punishing and soothing in all the right ways, hinted at a smile. “I had a meeting with airport officials that ended just in time to give you a helping hand.” He reached for a large file, shoved papers inside, and then rested an elbow on his knee to offer it to her. “Shouldn’t you be in New York with the bride-to-be?”

“Yes,” she said, stuffing the file in her bag, pretty sure her own Lady Luck was playing games with her tonight. “I should. I got pressured into a negotiation that I regret.” She stood up and he followed, handing her one last file that she quickly put into her briefcase. “Thank you for your help.”

She couldn’t seem to think of what else to say. He was so close she could smell the masculine spice of his cologne. She knew the brand, knew where he sprayed it. And she knew how good it smelled when he was naked and it was the only thing he had on. She shoved the inappropriate and tantalising thought away and reached for something, anything, to say. “Are you on this flight?”

“I guess that’s where my luck runs out,” he said, glancing at the window before adding, “I’m on the next one out and I’m not optimistic with this weather.”

“You have to be back to help with the wedding, too,” she insisted. “You’re the best man. Can they convince someone to give up a seat for you?”

“The airline tried. There were no takers. I’ll get there one way or another though, even if that means catching a charter flight.”

“You can’t fly out in some small plane in a dangerous storm,” Julie said, alarmed. “Luke, please tell me you won’t do that.”

“You just said I have to get home.”

“You do, but safely.”

He arched a brow. “Worried about me?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. This was one area she wasn’t hiding her feelings. “I am worried about you. Very. I know you were a SEAL, but don’t be macho. You can crash and die just like the rest of us.”

“I’m not macho.”

“You Walker men personify macho.”

“You must be talking about my brothers,” he joked.

“You were a SEAL. That’s another way to spell macho.”

“I was,” he agreed. “But not any more.”

Julie discreetly inhaled at the implication of those words, the silent message they held. He was here. He wasn’t leaving this time. What was she going to do about it? Those chocolate brown eyes of his held hers, and the air thickened, crackling with sudden awareness. His voice softened, turned velvety. “You know, Julie, we could-”

“Excuse me, Ms. Harrison,” the airline attendant interrupted. “You need to board.”

“I’m on my way,” Julie said, glancing at the woman and then quickly back to Luke, hoping he’d finish his sentence.

He hesitated only an instant, clearly abandoning whatever he’d intended to say. “You better go. See you at the rehearsal dinner. I’ll be there. You get on that plane and make sure you’re there, too.”

“Don’t take unnecessary risks,” Julie ordered.

“I won’t.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

She studied him, not sure she believed him. “Luke-”

“Miss,” the attendant said, sounding urgent, “your flight is going to leave without you. You really do have to board now.”

Julie walked backwards. “Getting killed would ruin the wedding, Luke.”

“I know.” He chuckled, a deep, sexy sound that tickled every nerve ending she owned. “Get on the plane. I’ll see you there. Alive.”

She inhaled and forced herself to break eye contact and hurry towards the ramp. She was worried about him, and she told herself that was because of the wedding. It was something to focus on other than what he’d almost said. We could...We could what? It didn’t matter. Nothing was going to happen between them. She wouldn’t let it.

So why with each step did she have to fight the urge to turn and see if Luke was still there. She didn’t want to know if he’d tuned her out, when she couldn’t forget about him, which was another reason not to turn. Luke was trouble, heartache, misplaced emotions that couldn’t end well. She didn’t do relationships for a reason. They didn’t work. Yet, he made her forget caution, made her want to believe in something, she didn’t know what. Lauren and Luke’s brother Royce made her want to believe, though. They deserved happily-ever-after. They would be the exception. She believed that, but for most part, love hurt. No one knew that better than she did.

***

Luke Walker watched the only woman who’d ever rocked his world sashaying her sexy little behind towards the plane, remembering another goodbye, and wondering if she was remembering it too. It had been two years ago and he’d been headed back to active duty after a month off and in her arms. She’d taken him to the airport, even walked with him inside. They’d stopped at security and stared at one another, long seconds of silence heavy between them, and he’d been unsure what to say. Their time together had been a short-term thing. They’d both been clear about that, no strings, no tomorrows, but he didn’t want it to end. He squeezed his eyes shut, reliving the past.