Having seen the car pull up, Jason stepped out onto the jetway and welcomed her with a smile. “Hello, Ms. Donovan. Ready for this?”

Not at all sure that she was, Taylor eyed the jet warily as she crossed the tarmac and climbed the metal steps leading up to the passenger hold. When she got to the top, she stopped before Jason, going for an unimpressed look.

“How original. Didn’t I see this in Pretty Woman?”

Jason smiled pleasantly. “Let’s hope the evening ends as well for me as it did for Richard Gere.” He winked.

That shut her up right quick.

Taylor coolly passed by him and stepped into the plane. She took in the rich cream leather captain’s chairs—eight of them—the matching double couches that flanked both walls, and the tawny marble wet bar near the back. Not a bad setup.

“You rented this?”

Jason gave her a look. Hardly.

“I bought it three years ago. Commercial travel got to be too much of a hassle.”

Taylor’s eyes darted nervously to the cockpit. “Please tell me you’re not flying it.”

Jason laughed at the horrified look on her face. “You’re safe. I’ll be back here with you.”

Taylor glanced around the small seating area. Great. How cozy.

She took a seat near the back, in the chair closest to the bar, thinking a Grey Goose on the rocks might soon be in order. Jason eased into the chair next to her.

“Now can you tell me where we’re going?” she asked as she fumbled with her seat belt.

He shook his head. “Not yet. Although I’ll give you a clue: from what I’ve seen so far, it’s a place that suits you well.”

Taylor considered this hint. Then an excited look crossed her face.

“Napa Valley?”

Jason shook his head. “It’s not Napa. And no more guessing.”

“I hope I’m at least dressed appropriately,” she said, gesturing to her outfit. “Someplace ‘where you’ll be teaching me something’ didn’t give me a lot to go on.”

Jason deliberately took in the black V-neck tailored shirt and fitted gray skirt she wore. Taylor self-consciously crossed her legs at his gaze, inadvertently drawing his attention to the slit in her skirt that parted mid-thigh.

“I think you’ll do just fine, Ms. Donovan,” he said.

Taylor was just thinking that perhaps this was a good time to restate her “this is only business” speech, when the plane’s engines suddenly roared to life. At the sound, she turned in her chair and peeked out the window. Without thinking, her leg began to bounce nervously.

After a few seconds of checking out the runway, she glanced back and saw Jason looking curiously at her bouncing leg. Never one to show any weakness, Taylor steadied herself and feigned a casual smile.

“So . . . I guess we’re off now. Good. Great.”

The jet taxied to the runway, completed its turn, then shot forward with a thunderous firing of the engines. Taylor self-consciously began to tap her fingers on the arms of her seat.

Okay, fine. Yes, it was true.

She hated flying.

Feeling Jason’s eyes on her, she made an attempt to cover her nervousness with casual conversation. “So what kind of maintenance goes into a jet like this? I assume you have it serviced regularly?”

Jason shrugged unconcernedly. “I have no idea. I pay other people to worry about those things.”

Taylor’s eyes widened at this. Good god, they were toast. She spun back around to peer out the window.

The plane ascended, and they rose smoothly for a few moments. But then they hit a patch of turbulence, and Taylor’s hands tightly gripped the armrests of her seat. She closed her eyes, trying to push all thoughts of screaming death-plummets from her mind. Surely fate was on her side in this flight, she thought. Jason was her insurance policy, after all. The world would probably stop spinning on its axis if something were to happen to its Sexiest Man Alive.

“So I’ve been reading about your trial in the papers,” she heard Jason say.

She opened her eyes. “You have?”

The plane dropped with the turbulence, and Taylor’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She glanced out the window, uneasily studying the ground below as the plane began a turn.

Meanwhile, Jason reclined unworriedly in his chair. “And I have a question for you.”

“Hmmm.” Taylor looked up. “Wait.” She had definitely just heard a sound she had never heard on a plane before. She quickly looked over at Jason.

“Does the engine sound normal to you? I think we’re losing altitude.”

He ignored this. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking about your trial—”

“—Seriously, is this pilot certified? How long has he been working for you? And what kind of training do you need to fly private planes, anyway?”

“—and here’s the question I’ve been meaning to ask, Taylor: as a woman who defends companies from sexual harassment claims, don’t you feel like a traitor to your gender?”

Whoa.

Suddenly refocused, Taylor turned away from the window and stared at Jason.

Her look was death.

“A traitor to my gender?” she whispered in disbelief.

The hand came up.

“Let me tell you something, mister . . .”

They had leveled off at 40,000 feet before she paused to take her first breath.

“... AND WHILE I don’t disagree that there are legitimate instances of sexual harassment out there . . .

“. . . Frivolous cases do more to undermine feminist causes by clogging up the courts and creating bad precedent . . .

“. . . Clients I represent do everything they can to prevent such behavior, and in those rare cases where I do find a problem, I’m the first person . . .

“. . . Hardly deserves millions of dollars just because some low-level jerk-off with a manager’s badge doesn’t get laid enough and looks at porn on the office computer . . .”

Jason sat there, listening to the entire tirade. When Taylor had finally finished, she folded her arms over her chest.

“So? Does that satisfy your concerns over my being a traitor to my gender?”

She waited expectantly for his retort. But instead, Jason surprised her by nodding agreeably.

“All very good points. I hadn’t thought about things that way.” He got up from his seat and headed over to the wet bar. “Would you like a drink?” he asked politely.

Taylor blinked. Wait—that was it? He was just going to . . . agree with her?

Jason raised an eyebrow questioningly, still standing at the bar. Taylor tried to think through her surprise.

“Um, red wine, I guess. If you have it.

She watched as Jason opened a bottle, poured her a glass, and fixed himself a vodka martini. When he handed Taylor her drink, she looked at him knowingly.

“You were trying to distract me with the whole traitor-to-my-gender thing, weren’t you?”

Jason grinned guiltily. “I had a feeling that might do the trick. Have you always been a nervous flier?”

Taylor debated whether to answer that. Then, realizing the jig was up, she leaned back in her seat and got comfortable for the first time in the flight.

“Since I was a summer associate at my firm,” she admitted. “They asked a bunch of us to be test jurors for this big class action they were working on, an airplane crash case. As part of the evidence, they made us listen to the black box recordings so that the lawyers could get a sense of how a jury might handle that kind of evidence.” She paused. “Needless to say, that was the summer I developed a fear of flying.”

“That bad, huh?”

Taylor cocked her head, considering this. “It made me realize that things would be completely out of my control, if anything ever were to happen on a plane.”

Jason studied her. “I sense this control thing is a big deal with you.”

“Says the man who stormed into my office when I didn’t return his phone calls within the hour.”

Jason grinned. “Fair enough.” Then he looked at her interestedly. “I feel like I should know more about you.”