Nervous Flier by Chloe Glint

Chapter One
    Twenty-nine year old Noel stared out the window as the plane circled over the Chicago, Illinois airport. Down below, hulking buildings stood tall and grey. The plane began to vibrate as it dropped lower toward the ground, and she dug her nails into the black armrests at her side. Her heart pounded hard in her chest. Even her tiredness after flying hours and hours from Australia faded in the face of plummeting toward the ground and being engulfed in a massive explosion. As Noel squeezed her eyes shut in fear, the man beside her chuckled.
    "Nervous flier, huh?" the man asked.
    Noel's eyes flew open. She turned and looked at the man who sat next to her, which she had been avoiding doing all flight long because the man was sexy enough to melt the skin off of her face just by one glance alone. His hair was tousled and blond, his eyes were a deep green, and his jaw was covered in faint day-old growth. Despite his boyish qualities, his physique suggested that he was all man. Definitely not the type of person Noel wanted to get involved with when she was in the middle of hyperventilating. She had no doubt she had appeared idiotic all flight long with her deep breathing exercises.
    "I'm Dawson," the man said, ignoring her lack of response to his question and continuing to pursue a conversation even as the plane jostled and turned her stomach into a thick stew. "What brings you to Chicago?"
    "Um, is this really a good time for introductions?" Noel stole a fleeting glance at the ground below.
    Dawson shrugged good naturedly. "Good as time as any. This is what I do whenever I go to the doctor to get a shot. I hate needles, but spending time chattering with the nurses always makes it easier. Talk to me a few minutes and you'll forget you were ever nervous."
    Under normal circumstances, Noel found it hard to believe she would ever forget that they were heading toward the ground at a disturbingly fast speed. Dawson, though, was so attractive she could have been riding a raft in the middle of a volcano and she would have forgotten about the danger below.
    "Well, I'm coming to Chicago to visit somebody. I'm moving here from Sydney." Noel shivered as the plane experienced turbulence. "What are you doing in Chicago?"
    "Me?" Dawson acted surprised that she asked about him, as if he was the only one who had the ability to ask questions. "I'm a travel writer. I own my own magazine, Over Frequent Skies . I've been in Scotland for the past six months, then I spent some time in the Middle East. Now I'm finally heading back home. I'll accept work from freelancers for a while. I'm not as young as I used to be. I get homesick sometimes."
    His words surprised her so much that even the plane's sudden drop didn ’t bother her. It wasn't the kindest thought, but Dawson's boyish features suggested a lack of responsibility. A man who had started his own magazine and made a living at it had to be responsible. She was impressed. It didn't seem fair that a man could be so gorgeous, nice, and smart. Then again, her boyfriend, Peter, was a stockbroker at an investment firm and had the looks of a rugged actor too. At the thought of seeing Peter after six months, a rush of pleasure washed through her stomach, but the plane dropping again quickly stole it away. Once again she focused on conversation, which, surprisingly, was helping her become sufficiently distracted, just like Dawson had said it would.
    "What do you do?" Dawson asked after her moment of silence. "Are you planning on bringing any work with you?"
    "Well…" Nervously, Noel tucked a light brown strand of hair behind her ear. "To be honest, I didn't plan that far ahead. One day I decided I was going to head to America, so I went. I probably should have looked into getting a job first, but I was swept away by the sudden momentum."
    "Spontaneous woman, huh?" Dawson's grin broadened. "I can respect that."
    "That's the odd thing." Noel bit her bottom lip. "I've never been spontaneous a day in