All I Wanna Do Is You
Publication date: May 14th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Can he keep his hands off her cupcakes?
Reagan Campbell’s flight just got grounded. She’s planned her brother’s perfect wedding weekend down to the minute, but her checklist didn’t include running into the one guy she’s never been able to get over. Only two things stand between her and the Florida Keys: fifteen-hundred miles and the man who broke her heart.
Zach Anderson has a score to settle with Senator Campbell. And running into his daughter, Reagan, gives him just the opportunity he needs. But it’ll take more than planes, trains, and automobiles to get her all the way to Florida in one piece. He might not be able to keep his hands off her cupcakes, but will he be able to keep his heart out of the way long enough to exact his revenge?
Reagan Campbell smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from the lapel of her three-quarter sleeve, out-of-season black blazer. Trying to figure out what to wear as she made the transition from the raging March blizzard in Chicago to the white sandy beaches of the Florida Keys had almost made her late for her afternoon flight at O’Hare.
The sooner she got on the plane, the better she’d feel. She leaned against a pillar and glanced at her watch. Any minute they should be making the boarding announcement.
On cue, the gate agent picked up the microphone and a crackle sounded through the gate-area speakers. “May I have your attention, please? For passengers traveling on flight 542 to Miami, we’ve received word from the ground crew that they’ve shut down one runway due to snow accumulation. We’ll be delayed for at least an hour while they work through the backlog of departures.”
A collective groan rose from the disgruntled passengers, like someone stood in front of them with a conductor’s baton and told them to let their disappointment out in unison on the count of three. An hour or two? Reagan’s hand shook as she slipped a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Teddy would kill her for not taking the flight with the rest of their family earlier this morning.
The gate agent continued, “Things might change if they can get another de-icing machine up and running. So please stay close to the gate area.”
Reagan glanced out the wall of windows at the blustery, late winter snowstorm. A mid-March blizzard wasn’t outside the realm of possibility in Chicago. But how dare the weather try to interfere with her plans? She’d orchestrated her brother’s wedding down to the tiniest detail. And now Mother Nature wanted to mess with her?
The rest of her family made it out of Chicago before the storm rolled in, on a chartered, early morning flight her dad’s Chief of Staff had arranged. As Senate Majority Leader, Ross Campbell had connections and wasn’t shy about using them. Especially if it meant keeping his family out of the limelight and avoiding any unpleasant run-ins with the press.
Reagan’s anxiety had kicked into high gear at the thought of flying halfway across the country in a tiny tin can with wings. So she’d used a mandatory meeting at the office as an excuse to take a later commercial flight. If she was going to be gone for a long weekend, she justified to herself, she’d better tie up loose ends or she’d never be able to enjoy herself. It had taken her years to secure a promotion to executive management for a nationwide luxury resort chain that was headed her way. She wasn’t about to risk it.
At least on a big plane she felt a little safer. If she’d finally had the courage to conquer her fear of flying, she’d be sliding her freshly-pedicured toes into strappy sandals and sitting at the beachside bar, sipping a mojito by now.
The strappy sandals were nestled inside a felt shoe pouch in her checked roller bag. But she could do something about that drink. Her gaze swept over the tacky, thatched hut of the busy airport bar, no doubt an attempt to bring some south of the border sizzle to the dull terminal. She gathered her purse and the bakery box full of cupcakes she’d picked up for her brother, and made her way to a vacant high-top.
Just as she reached for a stool, a trio of flight attendants laid claim to the table. Reagan stepped to the side to glance around the packed bar. With so many passengers delayed, it would probably be a while before another table cleared. A cup of hot tea from the coffee shop across the way would have to keep her pre-flight jitters at bay.
“You can sit with me.”
The voice came from behind her. She hadn’t heard that mixture of grit and deep, rich timbre since the ill-fated night of her high school graduation party. But that was impossible, it couldn’t be him.
She took in a deep breath and steeled herself for disappointment. He’d moved to California. Hadn’t heard anything about him in over eight years. Well, except for a late-night, wine-induced Googling session where she’d discovered he’d become a professional photographer after all and had some prints for sale through a gallery in Santa Cruz.
Seeing his two-by-two-inch bio picture had sent a zing right to her hoohah and left her tingling with a mixture of regret and what-might-have-been remorse. Slowly turning, she braced herself for the letdown of some middle-aged businessman on the hunt for a quickie.
“Reagan Campbell. Long time no see, huh?”
Four square inches of a pixelated PNG image on his web site had done nothing to prepare her for the sight of the broad-chested, confident man before her. Her knees turned to spaghetti noodles, and her vision went fuzzy at the edges, like she was looking through a dark tunnel and Zach Anderson stood at the other end, illuminated in a beam of dazzling sunlight.
She grabbed the back of a stool to steady herself.
“Zach?” His name floated from her lips on a breathy exhale. For over eight years his memory made her emotions bounce back and forth between extremes. Joy at the way he used to make her feel. Anger at the chicken shit way he’d ended things. Shame at the way she’d thrown herself at him the last night they’d been together.
The anger and sadness had eventually faded. She even let herself think about Zach from time to time. Even pictured running into each other. But meeting at a cheesy airport bar wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
He stood and wrapped her in a strong, comfortable hug.
The scent of sunshine and leather drifted off his skin. Her brain registered the scruff of his whiskers against her cheek and the feel of his pecs crushed against her chest. Her heart glowed at the warmth and security of being snug in his arms. Her girly parts screamed for more.
All too soon, the hug ended. He gestured to an empty stool and signaled the harried waitress to return to the table.
“Pull up a chair. You on that flight to Miami?”
Stunned by her reaction to the embrace, Reagan nodded and waited a beat, sure the hunky hallucination would fade away as quickly as he had appeared. When Zach’s image didn’t dissolve, she gripped the edges of the small table in both hands.
He smiled, actually gave her the grin with the dimples, like the last time she’d seen him he hadn’t had his hands all over her naked chest. A wave of heat rolled up her neck.
“You all right, Reagan? You look a little warm. Have some water.”
USA Today bestselling author Dylann Crush writes contemporary romance with sizzle, sass, heart and humor. A true romantic, she loves her heroines spunky and her heroes super sexy. When she’s not dreaming up steamy storylines, she can be found sipping a margarita and searching for the best Tex-Mex food in the Upper Midwest.
Dylann co-hosts Romance Happy Hour (https://www.romancehappyhour.com/) with live episodes every 2nd and 4th Thursday of each month and is a founding member of the Romance Chicks group where authors and romance readers can connect.
Although she grew up in Texas, she currently lives in a suburb of Minneapolis/St. Paul with her unflappable husband, three energetic kids, a clumsy Great Dane, a lovable rescue mutt, and a very chill cat. She loves to connect with readers, other authors and fans of tequila. You can find her at http://www.dylanncrush.com.
Website / Goodreads / Facebook Page / Facebook Group / Twitter / Instagram / Newsletter