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Travis Morgan paced the length of his office, cell phone in hand. "What do you mean, there are no seats? There are three flights a day to Boston. So what if there's a convention this weekend? I only need one bloody seat on the plane."
"I'm sorry, Mr....uhhh...Mr. Morgan." The travel agent hesitated over Travis's name.
Travis held back a growl. The kid was obviously doing his best, but Travis had already called every other airline and his patience was long gone.
"Actually, sir, there are two. Conventions, that is."
"Look, let me talk to your manager. This is ridiculous. There must be a charter or something available." Damn. I should have booked weeks ago. The thought pounded in his head. This weekend was one of the few times he and the guys could get together during the season. Travis walked to the large window along the back wall of his office and slapped his palm against the cool glass. If it wasn't for the fact that closing this last sale was so important and had taken so bloody long, he'd have had those tickets by now and been on his way to Boston and a championship basketball game. He'd been caught up in the details of the deal that could put him up for a promotion, and now he might miss the semi-annual reunion with all his college buddies.
"Just a moment, sir. I'll get the manager, Alicia Davis." The immediate pause over the line indicated to Travis he needn't replyhe'd just been put on hold. Normally he would have hung up at this point, but he hadn't met with the guys in over four months. It wasn't easy to keep in contact with old friendsthey tended to drift awayso they all made it a point to meet a few times a year at play-offs, either basketball or hockey.
"Mr. Morgan. I'm sorry we've kept you waiting. I understand you're having a bit of a problem getting a seat to Boston." The voice on the phone was cool, crisp, but definitely sexy. And definitely familiar. Alicia DavisI'd know that voice anywhere.
"Alicia Davis? From Michigan State? It's Travis Morgan." Would she remember him? He sure as hell remembered her, and her hot little body. They'd competed in their core year for best mark, best performance in the young entrepreneur's group, and they'd even squared off against each other in the poker pool. The fact that they'd never gotten together was a small regret, one his friends had ribbed him about for at least a year after they'd graduated.
"Well, hello. It's been a while." For a moment her tone warmed to that mellow quality she'd always had in class. The one that had most of the boys heated to the point where they couldn't stand after one of her presentations. "It's good to hear from you. I'd read you were at Beckerson and Crane."
"Senior account rep in advertising."
"You've done well." He imagined a tiny smile on her face.
"And you're managing a small fleet of private planes."
"Owning and managing, actually." The smile must surely have turned into the same predatory grin that made him weak in the knees during Sales Management 101. "But back to the problem at hand. You need to get to Boston." Her business façade was back, and he sat down at his desk in disappointment.
"Um, yeah. I need to get there by tomorrow at the latest. Your agent tells me there's nothing available. If it's a matter of cost, I'll pay. A charter will do, if I can join someone's flight. Anything." He knew he sounded a bit desperate, and it rankled. God, I need this break. Work was getting to him.