Scotland or Bust:Winning The Billionaire

By: Kira Archer

To my fellow, rabid fans of the Book That Must Not Be Named.

I apologize for Harrison. He knows not what he does.

Chapter One

Harrison Troy stood staring down at the so-called seats on the plane. He’d had marginal hopes that he could at least fly in some comfort. However, this particular plane didn’t have the new upgraded first-class pods that most airlines had. Instead, they had the larger seats—leather and fully reclining perhaps, but still side by side with one another. The last thing he wanted was to be saddled with a talkative seatmate all the way across the Atlantic. Or any kind of seatmate, really. What he wanted was to fly on his own private plane with its fully stocked bedroom from New York to London.

Unfortunately, his plane was having engine trouble. And, being summer and prime playtime, none of his friends’ planes were available to borrow. The plane he currently stood in was the only one that would be leaving for London that day. So unless he wanted to completely derail all of his plans and give his family even more reason to act out, he was going to have to sit down, shut up, and deal with the flight as best he could. Kudos to him for being a big boy.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” the flight attendant asked.

“No, thank you,” Harrison said, snapping out of his funk long enough to take his seat.

He laid his head back with a sigh. At least the actual chair was comfortable, he’d give it that. Maybe he’d get lucky and the seat beside him would remain empty so he could just sleep the whole way there.

He held on to that hope for all of three minutes before a bouncing brunette with a high ponytail and dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose flounced onto the plane. She handed the flight attendant her ticket and Harrison’s dream of a peaceful flight went right out the window when the attendant pointed toward him. The brunette gave him a smile, thanked the attendant, and dragged her overstuffed carry-on toward him.

“Looks like we’ll be seatmates,” she said, her cheerfulness setting his teeth on edge.

Normally, he would have appreciated her a whole lot more. He enjoyed being around fun, happy people, as evidenced by his group of best friends. One, at least, of whom was a consummate jokester. And it would take a blind man to miss her appeal. She was beautiful in an understated librarian kind of way. But that smile of hers lit up the whole plane. He wasn’t the only one staring.

When he realized what he was doing, he dropped his attention back to his phone. More than a few men, and a couple women, cast envious glances in his direction. But at that particular moment he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. He was in an overcrowded, overheated plane instead of his cushy private jet, on his way to spend two months with his family, which would probably spark another five years’ worth of therapy; and he really hated to fly.

The woman opened the overhead compartment and started trying to shove her massive case into it. After a minute or two of struggling, he finally spoke up.

“That’s not going to fit in there. You’ll need to check it.”

“I’ll get it in. I’ve shoved in bigger ones than this.” She stopped, her face going blank for a second, probably realizing what she’d just said.

“Ha!” she laughed. “That sounded dirty, didn’t it? Sorry. My mind seems to wander into the gutter of its own accord.”

He ignored that, mostly because he didn’t want to admit his own mind had gone straight to the gutter with her comment. “It is clearly too big.”

She grinned again and opened her mouth but he held up a finger. “Don’t say it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but the fact that you said that lets me know you were thinking it, too.”

She went back to shoving at her case, and he looked down to try and control the sudden urge to smile. Cheeky little thing. Completely inappropriate. Of all the people he had to get stuck with…

He sighed. “Just check the bag.”

She ignored him and gave it a final shove. It popped into the compartment, and her momentum continued to carry her forward, nearly toppling her into his lap. His reflexes kicked in, and he put his hands up, both to stop her fall and to block her from crushing a few of his more tender bits. Unfortunately, her angle of trajectory was such that her breasts literally fell right into his hands.

She glanced down at his hands, back up to his eyes. Back down again.

He sucked in a breath, mortified that it had taken that long to register that he shouldn’t be to second base with a woman whose name he didn’t even know, and yanked his hands back. Which solved the whole accidental boob graze thing, but knocked her off kilter the rest of the way, leaving her to sprawl in his lap.