It started on an airplane….nothing as sordid as the mile high club but far more intimate. On an international flight, in a darkened first class cabin two lost souls met, shared a meal, some conversation and an unexpected attraction. Rachel Sorrel was a woman with her act together, the consummate Chick in Charge of a large software company. Her life revolved around making money and fulfilling her ambitions, she failed however to consider the work/play equilibrium into her very busy schedule. When she met Greg on the plane she only knew him as the good looking guy that thought naps should factor on one’s daily agenda and not the renowned rock star that made tabloid fodder on a regular basis. Without biases or preconceived notions they got to know each other while crossing the Atlantic Ocean and found something irresistible that neither wanted to deny. The timing was all wrong, Rachel was closing a tricky business deal and Greg was on a comeback tour after a stint in rehab. Their lifestyles were in conflict, Greg was a media darling with a parchment for scandal where Rachel only wanted respectability. Against the odds, against their common sense, they took a risk on each other and got seriously reckless.
"So who are you Mr. Gregory McDowe?” She asked her voice turning husky when he nuzzled his cheek against her hand.
"You already know." He replied slowly drawing her closer into his embrace.
"No, I don't", she whispered back. "I know a stranger who shared a bag of Doritos with me on the plane. I don't know the person who has a welcoming committee of a hundred women nor who has the ability to send these women into a feeding frenzy. So who are you?"
"Does it matter?" he asked running his hands down her tapered back.
Rachel shook her head, because she didn't know if it mattered. Embarking on a logical conversation certainly didn't matter when his mouth was this close to hers. Yet something in her made her persist.
"Are you an athlete? Movie star? Author? General stud-muffin?"
"No," he replied lowering his mouth to nibble on her bottom lip, “I’m just a man."
"Then you must be one hell of a man."
Greg grinned, “I try." Then lowered his head to live up to his assertion.
Updated 6/2011 for format/grammer errors.