"Ah, nothing is as sad as we make it. And eccentric usually translates to interesting." He turned a page, and I admired his strong, straight nose. Colin King? I surmised that was his name, if he had the same last name as his parents. But who knew these days, really?

Colin King. The name meant nothing to me, but I liked the way it sounded, the hard C and K letters ricocheting in my mind. The strong consonants somehow fit well with his self-assured demeanor.

"Sam C. So that's your brand. I've heard of you. My sister-in-law is a huge fan. She talks about your clothes. Would you mind...well, no. That would be asking too much of a stranger."

"What?" Now I was curious.

"Well..." He shifted in his seat, his big body angling toward mine. "Would you mind if I called her before takeoff? Would you say hello? She'd be awfully impressed. I'm sorry to act like a fanboy."

I smiled and decided to accommodate his request, only because I could hear people still pouring into the coach seats behind us. We were many minutes from leaving, and I was trying not to think about takeoff. And the idea of this handsome businessman calling himself my fanboy was charming. My fans were usually rich housewives or trust-fund sorority girls.

"Of course, Mr. King."

"Please. Call me Colin. I can't have a woman younger than me calling me mister, now, can I?"

I didn't disabuse him of the idea I was younger. My age wasn't in the article; I'd made sure the reporter hadn't mentioned that detail. It was the kind of pull only certain designers had.

"Well, Colin. Make sure to give me your sister's address so I can send her a gift package. It's the least I can do for what I'm going to put you through on this flight."

Colin hesitated with the phone in his hand and shot me a lazy, half-lidded glance. "Sister-in-law," he corrected. "And what will you do to me on this flight, Samantha?"

"Everyone calls me Sam," I retorted.

He grinned. "I prefer Samantha."

Was he flirting? I was too nervous and possibly too old to know. Or care. I had to be at least five years older than him. Still, I felt the temperature in my cheeks rising. "I'm terribly afraid of flying. I might start hyperventilating, just so you know. Or crying. Or, well, I don't know. I apologize in advance. Please don't be alarmed. It's been a while since I've been on a plane. I'm not exactly agoraphobic, but let's say I choose my travel wisely. And infrequently."

I couldn't read his face as his eyes bored into mine. "There's no need to apologize for being anxious. Anxiety happens to the best of us."

I wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't a typical reaction to my condition. My ex-husband at first teased me about it, then would openly mock me in public by pretending to sob and sniffle. It was around then that I stopped flying.

Colin picked up his phone and tapped the screen. He held it to his ear and smiled.

"Charlie? Hi, baby. Can you please hand the phone to your mommy?" Pause. "No, I don't want to talk to the kitty. I want to talk to your mommy. Put Emma on the phone." He held the phone away from his ear. "It's my niece, Charlotte. I call her Charlie."

I nodded and took another pull of champagne, hoping it would ease my nerves. My mind was on the takeoff. What if we crashed into the ocean?

"Emma," Colin said. He paused and then laughed, because the woman had obviously said something funny. Colin's laugh was rich and genuine.

"You're not going to believe this, Emma. I've got a surprise for you."

I could hear a woman's tone through the earpiece. I studied him. He really was quite handsome, with a shock of black hair, dark eyebrows, and a very sinful, full mouth. He looked devilish when he smiled. The lines on his forehead made him look even more so, as did those icy-blue eyes.

A devil in pinstripes.

Colin continued to smile as he talked. "Yes, your dearest husband did get in touch with me about that. I'll see him in London in about eight hours. Listen. You know that designer you love? The colorful dresses that look like they're something from the 1960s? The ones that Caleb says make you look like a go-go dancer? Sam C.? Well, she's sitting next to me on this plane. We haven't taken off, and she wants to say hello to you."

I smiled, tight-lipped, as he handed me the phone.

I was greeted with a breathy squeak. "Oh. My. God. Are you really Sam C.?"

"Hello. Yes. I happen to be sitting next to your..." My voice trailed off. The combination of champagne and my nerves made my mind go blank. And maybe the startling realization that Colin was so...male...was also unsettling. I hadn't been this close to a handsome man in years, despite my parties. When I was in my early twenties, I'd been wild and free with my body. That was before I'd gotten serious about my career. Before I'd married and things had come crashing down.

Now I knew better. I approached men with a cool head and a frigid heart.

I glanced at Colin's large hand, which was about to turn the page of the magazine. His fingers were tapered and the nails square. I'm a small person, and his hand was nearly the size of two of mine. The image of us holding hands popped into my mind, and I wondered how our fingers would look, intertwined.

What an odd thought. I hadn't considered touching any man in a long time.

"Brother-in-law," the woman said. "I'm so rude. My name is Emma."

She laughed and sounded a little like a dolphin. I gave a throaty chuckle.

"You sound different than what I expected," she said. "I didn't imagine that you'd sound so grown up. I imagined your voice would be bubbly and bright. Ooo, this is interesting. I'll bet you're an interesting person. You have to be if Colin put me on the phone with you. I love your designs, by the way. I went to your trunk show at a boutique in Sarasota earlier in the year. The one you were supposed to be at."

I'd planned to leave my estate for that show because my sister lives across the state in Sarasota. But I couldn't bear to attend. My anxiety had made everything go sideways that week. I exhaled.

Emma continued to chatter about how she'd bought the entire season at that trunk show, for both her and her toddler. Obviously Colin and his family were quite wealthy if this woman could purchase the entire season of my clothing for herself and her daughter. Then Emma said something about being too poor for my designs when she'd first started out as a business owner, and I perked up.

"My first dress of yours, I'd found it at a Goodwill. I wore it non-stop," she said.

It sounded like something I would have done, back when I was young. Back when my parents had cut me off from their lives and I'd had to live a very different life than how I was raised.

"I was ecstatic to be able to finally afford something of yours and to have found it secondhand. It's the one that was pink and white, with the palm trees."

I remembered it well. It was one that had launched my career when I was only twenty-five, the one that Elle Magazine had used for their spring cover.

Emma wouldn't stop talking. "Do you know the dress? Very 1950s housewife-looking. You were the best new designer that year, bringing back the retro style. I've always followed fashion, even when I couldn't afford it. Still have that dress, in fact. I can't fit into it, but I'm hoping Charlotte can someday. It's a classic."

Colin picked up the magazine and held it in both hands, closer to his face while studying a photo of me. It was the one where my hair was long and loose, and I was standing, barefoot, in the cloistered orchid gardens of my estate, wearing a white cotton eyelet dress from my collection.

"Of course I recall that dress. I don't think even I have a copy of it anymore. I'd love to see it someday," I said lamely. "It's wonderful to chat with you, and thank you for being such a fan. I told Colin I'd send you a gift package—"

My words were met with another squeak, and I could hear the child in the background giggle.

"Thank you. Sam—if I may call you that—I hope you have a great flight. You almost certainly will, sitting next to Colin. He's so entertaining." Her voice dropped. "He can be pretentious, but don't mind him, though. He's a really great guy. Super smart, too."

I looked over at him, and he caught my eye and winked. I smiled. "I think I can handle him."

After saying goodbye, I handed the phone back to Colin, and he rolled his eyes theatrically. "I don't know if she's single, Emma, and yes, I will invite her to your bookstore. Okay. Give a big hug and kiss to Charlie. Bye." He set the phone down. "Emma owns a bookstore in Orlando."

I nodded.

"You two would get along nicely."

I nodded again. There were times that people said that to me about their daughter or mother or sister. Usually they were people I'd never have anything in common with in a million years. I didn't have much in common with anyone, it seemed.

Just then, the flight attendant came over. "Oh, I see you've done a seat swap." He leaned in to us with a knowing look. "Good for you. That other guy was..." He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.

I chuckled and drained my second champagne glass. The bubbly was now making me a wee bit lightheaded. Or maybe it was a combination of the champagne and the low-dose anti-anxiety pill I'd taken before walking into the airport. I hated to take medicine, especially if I was around people. I never knew how I'd react. Today was an emergency, though.

I inhaled and smelled Colin's delectable scent.

"I need to take these glasses before takeoff, so drink up," the attendant said. A chill went through my body. For a couple of moments, I'd forgotten we were about to take off and had felt somewhat normal.

I handed the glass to the attendant, and he tilted his head. "You know, you two have the exact same color eyes. It's incredible." He gestured with my empty glass. "Ice-blue, almost colorless. Amazing. Anyway..." He waved his hand in the air. "Make sure you both lock your tray tables in position. We're leaving soon." He swept away, and Colin turned to me.

"Your eyes are much more beautiful than mine," he said.

____