Author's note: Characters created by Damon Runyon, and based on those appearing in the 1955 film adaptation of Guys & Dolls. Written to see if I could. Reviews appreciated.

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THE airplane trip home was so much shorter. At least her guidebook was no longer needed as a barrier between them, which was just as well, as she seemed to have mislaid it in one of the bars that evening.

The seats were cosy and allowed an intimacy that she had not been comfortable with a matter of hours ago. But so much had changed in so short a time she felt almost as if this were a dream. The one thing which was absolutely and definitively real to her was the man at her side.

Earlier his proximity had made her nervous and she still felt on edge now, but for an entirely different reason. Awareness spread through her as she felt the heat of him beside her. Before their encounter under the bell his closeness would have had her worrying at her buttons. The comforting ritual was still open to her - as though with a mind of its own her hand trailed slowly up the familiar path to her third button. But instead of the reassurance of a smooth, cool button she only encountered a reminder of the madness of this evening - a few ragged threads were all that were left on her sadly dilapidated jacket.

Her wandering hand was caught and she looked up to meet Sky's intense gaze. A wave of feeling swept over her leaving her shivery despite the warmth of the night. She had been aware of him as she sat lost in her thoughts as they waited for the plane to take off. She hadn't expected to feel such a jolt of sensation when their eyes met.

He raised her hand and kissed the palm, before interlacing their fingers. They seemed to fit together so well. Who was this man that he could arouse such a passionate response in her? The swift switch from anger and anxiety to joy and happiness left her feeling lightheaded. As they leaned into one another in companionable silence, she turned her head to study him.

Her eyes ran over his profile; smooth, low brow, strong nose, well-cut lips. Nothing special or out of the ordinary, but somehow they came together and created a beautiful whole. Almost as though he were aware of her scrutiny he opened his eyes and met her questioning look, his mouth curving slightly in a slow, lazy smile.

"What is it, kitten?"

Perhaps it was his voice, the distinctive low tones touched every one of her nerve endings. She took in the breadth of his shoulders, his elegant hands, the way his suit set off his figure and wondered what had happened. Sky Masterson had nothing in common with that mythical love she had imagined. Her dream had been so real to her until it was supplanted in vivid Technicolor by this - this - gambler.

She realised he was still patiently, if somewhat quizzically, waiting for her reply. She brought their intwined hands to her cheek and lifted her eyes to his face. She would never be able to return to idle dreams of a vague, faceless fantasy after tonight.

"Who are you, Sky? Tell me."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"Everything. I want to know all about you."

"You know we'll be landing in New York in an hour or so?" His face was softer than it had been, no less beautiful,but somehow more gentle as he teased her.

Sarah had never considered herself a fanciful person, prone to idiotic flights of the imagination. She couldn't understand how this man had become part of her life in so short a time. He seemed to dominate the horizon of her emotions, blocking out sensible thoughts. He had made her anger flare, sent her blood pressure soaring with his casual attitude, but also sent her soul dancing with the moonlight, and caused her joy in no little measure.

Was this love, then? She had thought she would know when love came to her. When that glorious emotion arrived she thought she would be able to neatly compartmentalise it as she did so successfully with the rest of her life. Now, in a whirlwind of sensation she realised she was no longer in control of her feelings - they were out playing with the elements and taking a chance.

She had expected love to be recognisable - a slow build up over time. Meeting a man, getting to know him, admiring his wisdom, his honesty, his rationality. She never once dreamed of this. This crazy explosion of feelings. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, but at some stage this evening a short fuse had lit by him - and it had burned - setting off spectacular fireworks in her heart.

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ALL dolls, any doll... His words were coming back to haunt him. Would just any doll have stood up to him the way that she had? Would any doll have challenged him, exasperated him, capitulated to him - slapped him? She was such a contradiction.

Prim and proper, the very image of a missionary. All buttoned up, excepting that one damned button. But in Havana she was a different person. At first philosophical, then flirtatious, then joyous and then speaking with a wisdom beyond his understanding.

How had it been that he had been with so many dolls before and none of them had come even close to his heart? He had enjoyed his time with them, but they were nothing serious. Just a way to waste a little time until the action got going again. A way to beat boredom waiting for the next crazy proposition.

Sarah had somehow crept into his life. He had seen her coming, as he would with any beautiful doll, but paid no attention to her approach; and now she was setting up camp in the centre of his life without a by-your-leave.

He had expected love to take him by surprise, the sight of the perfect woman stopping him in his tracks. But not now, not like this. She couldn't be the right woman. His first thoughts on seeing her had been entirely irritation at being trapped into some stupid sucker bet. He hadn't noticed at all how soft her dark brown eyes were, nor how shapely a figure she had despite the heavy uniform.

His pursuit of her was entirely due to that same stupid bet and he was going to kill Nathan Detroit the first chance he got. Him and his talk of anniversaries, engagements and marriages. Just because he was willing to stick his head into the noose so readily didn't mean all guys were queuing up to be led to the sacrificial altar.

The life he led now was just fine. He didn't need some doll on his case at all hours. He liked the freedom to roam wherever the action took him.

But she had not bothered him this evening - she had not pestered nor nagged. In fact, she had defended him, even slugging that guy in the bar. That was when it had hit him - that this was no longer a bet he could not welsh on. He did not think she was the type of doll to get embroiled in bar room brawls, in fact he would lay his entire bank roll that she had never been in a bar before, let alone a brawl; but she had not once shown any fear or flinched away from the fight.

Neither had she backed away when he confessed his bet with Nathan to her. He could not have not told her about it. She had looked up at him with those trusting eyes, and he was sure to spill everything to her.

He had thought that would be an end to their Cuban idyll. But instead of being horrified she had only kissed him softly and tucked her hand comfortably into his arm. In an entirely wifely fashion.

Abruptly his thoughts caught up with him. While the plane rumbled away bringing them closer and closer to Broadway and reality he had shared things with her that he had never told another living soul. She had somehow become the keeper of his secrets.

What would happen to them when they got back to town? His thoughts were circling around and around. He had not thought that it would take him this way - why could he not leave this to chance like he did everything else? The roll of the dice could easily help make decisions, such as whether he remained healthy or wound up stony broke. Why now did he feel the need to temper his heart with his head?

He had expected love to be recognisable. He had thought that when he met the right doll he would know, then and there. He had been wrong. Somehow, slowly, over the past few days this missionary miss had become part of his heart.

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