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Sara stared at the plane ticket Ian had handed her with something akin to dismay. They had already finished their dinner, and were watching tv comfortably together on the couch, when he had pulled the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. He was waiting patiently for the expected protests, and he wasn't disappointed.
"Ian, I can't afford this," Sara told him, trying to hand it back. "It's first class."
"It is a gift, Sara," he said.
"I don't want a gift from Irons," she protested. He shook his head, dark curls falling into his eyes.
"It isn't from him, it is from me."
"But it's too much, Ian."
"I don't think so," he said gently. "You have given me so much pleasure in our evenings together, our friendship. And you are giving me the opportunity to have a real vacation, something I have never had before. Please allow me to do this for you, Sara. It would make me very happy." He turned his pleading gaze on her, and she felt her resistance melt away.
"Thank you, Ian," she said with real feeling.
"It is my pleasure, Sara," he said, a humorous glint in his eye now. "I was not looking forward to flying coach. Besides, Mr. Irons has ordered me to see that you enjoy your vacation."
"He knows we are going together?" She was shocked.
"No. I'm afraid that would not please him at all. I am to observe you as always, and see that no one interferes with you. I managed to convince him it would be a bad thing if you were to fall ill in a foreign country with no one but strangers to aid you."
"You're sneaky, Ian," Sara told him approvingly. "But won't Irons notice the tickets were purchased together?"
"He might if they had been," Ian agreed with a grin. "But according to the records at the airline your ticket was purchased by you, I have a seat in coach, and the seat next to yours will be occupied by a Mr. Alex Richards."
"How did you manage that," she asked, impressed. He grinned.
"You said it yourself. I'm sneaky," Ian reminded her. Sara laughed.
"Mr. Richards, Ms. Pezzini, have a good flight," the gate attendant said pleasantly, if mechanically, as she handed back the tickets and turned to the next couple in line behind them. Sara and Ian walked down the ramp together to the plane, stowed their carry-on luggage, and sat down. Ian was attempting to look bored, but he was actually filled with a child-like excitement to be going on his first vacation. It only made it better that he was going with Sara. She didn't bother to try and hide her excitement, all but bouncing in her seat as the other passengers continued to board.
"I still can't believe they won't let you have tweezers in your carry-on luggage," Sara mused. Ian had arrived at her apartment half an hour before they were scheduled to leave for the airport and given her the rundown on the new security measures, which had prompted a bit of a hasty repack. The cab had arrived precisely on time, and gotten them to the airport with the prescribed hour and a half leeway before departure. Turned out it was a good thing, because the lines at check-in were long and lines at the security checkpoint were longer. Ian had left her briefly at security, saying he would meet her at the gate, and disappeared. True to his word, he fell into step again with her near their gate on the other side of security. She was curious about that, but let it pass, figuring he'd explain if he wanted to.
"You will find it even harder to believe when they give you an aluminum knife and fork with your lunch," Ian said. "Their security measures do not make sense sometimes."
"You're kidding," she said. "I'd have thought if they wouldn't let you bring tweezers onboard we'd all be getting plastic silverware."
"They get plastic in coach," Ian shrugged. "I suppose they figure anyone in First Class is too important to hijack a plane."
"I've never heard of someone trying to hijack a plane with silverware anyway," Sara observed.
"No one but a lunatic acting on the spur of the moment would even consider it."
"I bet there aren't any hijackers on this plane," Sara teased him with a grin. "I bet you did background checks on everyone to be sure we'd be safe." Ian just looked at her, and her smile faltered. "You did?"
"Of course not," he answered, breaking into a grin of his own. "But the look on your faceā¦"
"Oh you," she scolded, mock-punching his arm. One of the flight attendants came over and offered drinks. Ian opted for water, while Sara asked for a coffee.
"We should be taking off in about ten minutes," the attendant informed them as she brought their beverages in real glasses. "The in-flight meal will be served about half an hour after that."
"Thanks," Sara said. She noticed the woman's gaze lingered on Ian as he smiled politely. "She likes you," Sara leaned over and said after the attendant left.
"Why would she like me," he asked back. "She doesn't know me."
"She thinks you're a stud," Sara replied. "Face it, Ian, you're a great looking guy. Especially when you dress like that." Abandoning his somber wardrobe for their vacation, Ian was dressed in a sharp burgundy mock-neck of silk and charcoal-gray slacks. His habitual black duster was replaced by a sleek leather dress jacket. His hair was pulled neatly back in a pony tail, and his beard was freshly trimmed and much shorter than usual. She had stared at him for a full minute when he had arrived that morning, stunned, wondering how he could manage to look even better than before. Such a thing should have been an impossibility.
"Thank you, Sara," he replied simply. He had never thought about such things, but lately he had been noticing the glances of many women and some men followed him as he went about is business. He had always shrugged it off, assuming they were just staring because he was strange and dangerous, but now he wasn't so sure. Especially after going to the men's clothing shop to pick up some much-needed color for his wardrobe. The women on the staff had practically fought over the chance to help him until the assistant manager smoothly broke things up and took care of Ian himself. He was just as glad when he finished his shopping that the rest of his purchases for the trip had been taken care of over the internet already. Used to living in the shadows, he had been distinctly uncomfortable to be the center of attention while he shopped.
"What are we going to do for the next five hours until we get to Phoenix," Sara asked.
"I brought a laptop with several games and a DVD player," Ian said. "After we take off we can watch a movie or we can see if there's a game on there you would like."
"You think of everything, Ian." Sara was impressed. She had brought a book, but had really expected to sleep most of the way. Ian was smart, and he had an amazing store of knowledge, but he really wasn't good at long conversations. Probably because he had never had practice before, Sara mused. At least they could be comfortably silent in each other's presence. That was important, she thought.
"I try, my lady," he replied gallantly. He had purchased the laptop ostensibly to keep in contact with Irons through e-mail while he was away, but he had made sure his selection was a top of the line model with all the additional features available. He had then purchased several movies he thought she would like and packed the hard drive with mp3's from her favorite groups, and some of his own. After the plane took off, and they had finished lunch, they each plugged headphones into the double-jack adapter and passed the time quite happily watching movies together.
Sara stared at the plane ticket Ian had handed her with something akin to dismay. They had already finished their dinner, and were watching tv comfortably together on the couch, when he had pulled the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. He was waiting patiently for the expected protests, and he wasn't disappointed.
"Ian, I can't afford this," Sara told him, trying to hand it back. "It's first class."
"It is a gift, Sara," he said.
"I don't want a gift from Irons," she protested. He shook his head, dark curls falling into his eyes.
"It isn't from him, it is from me."
"But it's too much, Ian."
"I don't think so," he said gently. "You have given me so much pleasure in our evenings together, our friendship. And you are giving me the opportunity to have a real vacation, something I have never had before. Please allow me to do this for you, Sara. It would make me very happy." He turned his pleading gaze on her, and she felt her resistance melt away.
"Thank you, Ian," she said with real feeling.
"It is my pleasure, Sara," he said, a humorous glint in his eye now. "I was not looking forward to flying coach. Besides, Mr. Irons has ordered me to see that you enjoy your vacation."
"He knows we are going together?" She was shocked.
"No. I'm afraid that would not please him at all. I am to observe you as always, and see that no one interferes with you. I managed to convince him it would be a bad thing if you were to fall ill in a foreign country with no one but strangers to aid you."
"You're sneaky, Ian," Sara told him approvingly. "But won't Irons notice the tickets were purchased together?"
"He might if they had been," Ian agreed with a grin. "But according to the records at the airline your ticket was purchased by you, I have a seat in coach, and the seat next to yours will be occupied by a Mr. Alex Richards."
"How did you manage that," she asked, impressed. He grinned.
"You said it yourself. I'm sneaky," Ian reminded her. Sara laughed.
"Mr. Richards, Ms. Pezzini, have a good flight," the gate attendant said pleasantly, if mechanically, as she handed back the tickets and turned to the next couple in line behind them. Sara and Ian walked down the ramp together to the plane, stowed their carry-on luggage, and sat down. Ian was attempting to look bored, but he was actually filled with a child-like excitement to be going on his first vacation. It only made it better that he was going with Sara. She didn't bother to try and hide her excitement, all but bouncing in her seat as the other passengers continued to board.
"I still can't believe they won't let you have tweezers in your carry-on luggage," Sara mused. Ian had arrived at her apartment half an hour before they were scheduled to leave for the airport and given her the rundown on the new security measures, which had prompted a bit of a hasty repack. The cab had arrived precisely on time, and gotten them to the airport with the prescribed hour and a half leeway before departure. Turned out it was a good thing, because the lines at check-in were long and lines at the security checkpoint were longer. Ian had left her briefly at security, saying he would meet her at the gate, and disappeared. True to his word, he fell into step again with her near their gate on the other side of security. She was curious about that, but let it pass, figuring he'd explain if he wanted to.
"You will find it even harder to believe when they give you an aluminum knife and fork with your lunch," Ian said. "Their security measures do not make sense sometimes."
"You're kidding," she said. "I'd have thought if they wouldn't let you bring tweezers onboard we'd all be getting plastic silverware."
"They get plastic in coach," Ian shrugged. "I suppose they figure anyone in First Class is too important to hijack a plane."
"I've never heard of someone trying to hijack a plane with silverware anyway," Sara observed.
"No one but a lunatic acting on the spur of the moment would even consider it."
"I bet there aren't any hijackers on this plane," Sara teased him with a grin. "I bet you did background checks on everyone to be sure we'd be safe." Ian just looked at her, and her smile faltered. "You did?"
"Of course not," he answered, breaking into a grin of his own. "But the look on your faceā¦"
"Oh you," she scolded, mock-punching his arm. One of the flight attendants came over and offered drinks. Ian opted for water, while Sara asked for a coffee.
"We should be taking off in about ten minutes," the attendant informed them as she brought their beverages in real glasses. "The in-flight meal will be served about half an hour after that."
"Thanks," Sara said. She noticed the woman's gaze lingered on Ian as he smiled politely. "She likes you," Sara leaned over and said after the attendant left.
"Why would she like me," he asked back. "She doesn't know me."
"She thinks you're a stud," Sara replied. "Face it, Ian, you're a great looking guy. Especially when you dress like that." Abandoning his somber wardrobe for their vacation, Ian was dressed in a sharp burgundy mock-neck of silk and charcoal-gray slacks. His habitual black duster was replaced by a sleek leather dress jacket. His hair was pulled neatly back in a pony tail, and his beard was freshly trimmed and much shorter than usual. She had stared at him for a full minute when he had arrived that morning, stunned, wondering how he could manage to look even better than before. Such a thing should have been an impossibility.
"Thank you, Sara," he replied simply. He had never thought about such things, but lately he had been noticing the glances of many women and some men followed him as he went about is business. He had always shrugged it off, assuming they were just staring because he was strange and dangerous, but now he wasn't so sure. Especially after going to the men's clothing shop to pick up some much-needed color for his wardrobe. The women on the staff had practically fought over the chance to help him until the assistant manager smoothly broke things up and took care of Ian himself. He was just as glad when he finished his shopping that the rest of his purchases for the trip had been taken care of over the internet already. Used to living in the shadows, he had been distinctly uncomfortable to be the center of attention while he shopped.
"What are we going to do for the next five hours until we get to Phoenix," Sara asked.
"I brought a laptop with several games and a DVD player," Ian said. "After we take off we can watch a movie or we can see if there's a game on there you would like."
"You think of everything, Ian." Sara was impressed. She had brought a book, but had really expected to sleep most of the way. Ian was smart, and he had an amazing store of knowledge, but he really wasn't good at long conversations. Probably because he had never had practice before, Sara mused. At least they could be comfortably silent in each other's presence. That was important, she thought.
"I try, my lady," he replied gallantly. He had purchased the laptop ostensibly to keep in contact with Irons through e-mail while he was away, but he had made sure his selection was a top of the line model with all the additional features available. He had then purchased several movies he thought she would like and packed the hard drive with mp3's from her favorite groups, and some of his own. After the plane took off, and they had finished lunch, they each plugged headphones into the double-jack adapter and passed the time quite happily watching movies together.
