My eyes jerk open the moment something cold and wet covers my legs. My mouth drops open as I stare down at my tomato juice-covered lap.

This is so not happening to me.

The juice drips onto the floor, and I glance down at my shoes and the bag stuffed under the seat in front of me—everything is covered. I press the call light to request assistance from the flight attendant with cleaning up, taking care to hold my hands out away from my body.

The elderly man next to me frowns as he pushes up his glasses to survey the damage. “I’m sorry, young lady. These old eyes don’t see like they used to. I didn’t mean to knock that cup into your lap.”

I can see the sincerity on his face and offer up a small smile because I don’t want him to feel any worse. “Accidents happen. No worries.”

The flight attendant approaches our row and leans over to turn the call light off before glancing down at me. “Oh, dear, looks like we’ve had a bit of a spill here.”

I stare up at her and wonder how she can be so calm in this situation, but I can tell this is the type of woman who doesn’t get worked up easily. There’s not one strand of blond hair out of place in her updo, and her blue eyes sparkle with kindness.

I glance down at my soiled clothes. “Can I have a towel or something? I checked all my clothing, so I don’t have anything extra to change into.”

“Come on up front with me and we’ll see if we can get you cleaned up,” she replies.

I nod, grateful for her offer. “Thank you.” Anything is better than smelling like rotten tomatoes for the remaining three hours of my flight. I glance over at the older man beside me. “Do you mind letting me out?”

He begins to move out of the way. “Of course not, young lady.”

I follow the flight attendant through the first class section into the front galley of the plane. She reaches into a stash of canned club sodas and hands me one, along with a handful of plain white washcloths.

She frowns at me. “Sorry, it’s not much, but try blotting it out the best you can. Taking out the smell will make your flight more comfortable. I would offer you a first class seat since I’m sure your seat is a mess, but unfortunately, it’s all full.”

“She can sit here,” a deep, rumbling voice says.

When I look up, my gaze locks onto a pair of the lightest blue eyes I think I’ve ever seen. They’re practically see-through. If I thought he was attractive from a distance that is nothing compared to the sight of him up close. The intensity causes my stomach to flip and my knees grow a little weak. I swallow hard. Considering every seat is filled, I find myself confused as to where exactly here is. As inviting as sitting on his lap for the next few hours may be, I don’t want to open that naughty can of worms. He seems like way too much man for me. I don’t think I can handle someone so…intense.

“You’re willing to give up your seat for her, Mr. Cold?” the attendant asks.

He shakes his head. “No, but my manager will give her his seat.”

Mullet Man’s head jerks toward him. “I will?”

Mr. Cold rolls his neck and glares down at him with a stare so intense, it’s almost frightening. “You have a problem with that?”

“N—no, of course not, X,” he stutters, clearly intimidated by the beast of a man beside him. “She can totally have my seat.”

Mr. Cold jerks his chin toward the back. “Then beat it.”

Mullet Man quickly gathers his things and heads back to my tomato-stained seat in coach without another word. I glance over at the flight attendant but she simply shrugs and walks back down the aisle to continue passing out drinks.

I glance at the empty seat next to possibly the most attractive, yet scary, man I’ve ever come in contact with and my heart does a double thump. I can only imagine what sitting next to him for the next three hours is going to do to my cardiovascular system. My heart will never survive. It will explode from all the extra beats.

I pour the club soda onto the rag and begin blotting my jeans. I press and rub until practically every inch of my pants and shirt are soaked. Not exactly the greatest first impression to make on a celebrity, but this is the cleanest I’m going to get considering I’m thirty-five thousand feet in the air.

I sigh and then lay the now orange cloth on the drink cart in the galley and head toward Mr. Cold. I sit in the oversized gray leather seat, surprised at how much more room there is up here versus back in coach. I’ve always been curious as to what riding in first class would be like.

The weight of Mr. Cold’s stare presses on me like a ton of bricks. I know I can’t sit next to him for the next few hours and not say anything, so I might as well get it over with and thank him.

“Thank you for the seat. That was really kind of you.”

His eyes drift down my body, and then back up to my face. “Don’t mention it. You looked like you could use a little help, so I helped.”

I roll my bottom lip between my teeth as he continues to gaze at me. His eyes are the kind people write songs and poems about. They’re light blue and crystal clear. I’ve never seen someone with such intoxicating eyes. It nearly steals my breath every time I look into them.

Before either of us can say another word, someone passes a blank sheet of paper over my shoulder. “Give this to X. It’s for a kid in the back.”

I take the paper and slide it onto Mr. Cold’s tray. “My, aren’t you popular.”