Chapter One: Seabreeze

Jackson sat in the airport tex mex restaurant, anxiously awaiting his prey. He wasn't normally this nervous on a job, but there was something about Kitten, something that made her different than the rest. He glanced up and saw her approaching. Wheeling her suitcase behind her, she was a vision in tight, flared jeans and a croc print jacket. Her short brown hair was curly and gathered behind a hairband. His breath hitched in his throat as she pursed her lips and smiled at him. She quickly wheeled her suitcase over.

"Oh goodness me! Is this seat taken?" her lilting Irish accent warmed the cockles of his heart…and another organ. He mentally calmed himself, and then smiled, gesturing to the open chair. "Go right ahead."

"Oh thank you, darling. You know it's so hard to find a gentleman these days. Why this terrible woman spilt her drink all over me and didn't so much as miss a beat. Honestly!" She smiled flirtatiously and put her hand on his. He'd never had a mark this willing. Or this tempting. Her lips were like clouds – so full and soft. And her eyes. They were the same shade of blue as his own, but whereas his were cold and dead, hers were warm and vulnerable. Stop Jackson, he said to himself. Do your job and move on.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He said, trying to regain control of the situation. She leaned towards the waiting bartender.

"Thank you, sugar. I'll have a –"

"Seabreeze." He said, winking.

"Well, yes. Thank you" She turned to him in surprise. "However did you know?"

"It's a little talent I have. Good for breaking the ice." He relaxed. They were back on his turf.

"Darling, I don't think you'd have that trouble; handsome young fella like yourself" she remarked as the bartender set the seabreeze in front of her. "Speaking of which, does the handsome fellow have a name?"

"It's Jackson" He reached out a hand. She dropped her soft and silky hand into his.

"Nice to meet you, Jackson. You can call me Kitten."

"Kitten?" he said, with a bemused smile, pretending to be shocked.

"Well, it's not my real name of course. But my friends call me Kitten," she said as she sipped on her drink.

"Ah. Kitten it is then."

"And what about you? Jackson sounds so stiff and formal. You don't have a nickname?"

"Oh no. Just Jackson really. See, my last name is Rippner so…"

"Oh, say no more" Kitten clucked her tongue sympathetically. "That's very unfortunate. Your parents were very cruel."

"Yes, yes they were. That's what I told them…before I killed them." He was testing her. She looked shocked for a moment, and then recovered as she realized the joke and began to laugh.

"Oh you!" She said. "You had me for a moment there."

"I think I really did," he admitted, chuckling.

At that moment, the boarding call for the Miami flight sounded through the airport. Too soon, Jackson thought to himself. He didn't want to get down to business with Kitten. He didn't want to hurt her.

"Oooh gracious!" She said, excitedly. "Well, doll, they're playing my song. Thanks ever so much for the drink but I really have to catch my plane." She clasped his hand in hers and brushed her lips along his cheekbone. And then, in a cloud of Chanel no. 5, she was gone. The intimacy caught Jackson off guard, and he sat with his hand on his cheek for several moments before he realized his phone was ringing. Back to business, he reminded himself, as he took the call with great reluctance.