When we reached our destination, a quiet ring sounded in my ears. I shook my head to clear the noise, but it persistently remained. I hadn't brought that stupid BlueJay, had I? "What's that ringing?" I asked raggedly. "Do you hear ringing?"

"No. Sweetheart, it's going to be okay," Royce said. "I promise. I hate that you're so afraid."

As we walked down a winding corridor hand in hand-I didn't even try to pull away-I cast a sidelong glance at his profile. He seemed in perfect control. Our steps echoed throughout the empty hangar. The closer we came to the plane, the stiffer I became. I squeezed his hand, hoping to make him stop, or at the very least, slow him down. I thought I could do this.

I couldn't.

The ringing in my ears increased in volume, a frantically rising crescendo of string instruments. "Please, Royce. Choose somewhere here in Dallas to host the party."

He didn't stop, didn't pause for that matter, just continued to guide me down the corridor. "We've got to conquer this fear of yours. I have to travel, it's part of my job, and I want you to be able to go with me. Once we're in the air, you're going to love it. I know you will."

"Please," I repeated, a bit more desperately.

"Sweetheart," he said, glancing in my direction. "Do you trust me? You have to know I would never let you get hurt."

"Can't we drive? I'm sure it won't take us long." Sweat beaded on my forehead.

He laughed, a husky laugh he tried to squelch. "That's a twelve-hour drive. No," he said, shaking his head, "we'll fly." That said, he tossed me a wink.

As if winking at me solved all my problems!

"It'll be fun," he said. "You'll see."

I knew I'd have more fun strapped naked on top of a cab going two miles per hour through downtown traffic.

"Once you've flown in a plane like this one, you'll never want to touch the ground again."

He didn't understand. I had to make him understand. The only word to escape my constricting throat, however, was "Please." The ringing in my ears was so loud now, I could barely hear myself. The desperate plea finally stopped him in his tracks. There was an edge of disconsolateness in my voice this time, along with cold-blooded fear.

He looked down, his eyes filling with concern. "It's going to be okay," he repeated. And I knew he kept repeating the same phrases to drill them into my mind. "I'd never let anything happen to you."

"You're right, okay, about me being afraid. I-I hate planes," I whispered. The knuckles clasping my overnight bag turned white with the force of my grip.

"I can see that." Using the tip of his finger, he lifted my face until our gazes locked. "Want to tell me why?"

Where was my Tigress when I needed her? I bit my lip, hard, the action close to drawing blood.

"If you don't stop that, I'm going to kiss you so I can ease the sting your teeth are inflicting."

Looking away, I said, "It's not the plane. Not really. It's the fear of crashing."

He enfolded me in his arms, causing the ringing to subside. I buried my head in the hollow of his neck. His hands caressed my back, offering comfort. "You're more likely to be in a car accident than a plane crash."

"You told me that before, but now I want you to tell that to everyone who's ever been in a plane crash."

"Have you ever flown before?"

"Yes. Once."

"And you didn't die."

"No, but the wheels twisted on takeoff and we had to fly around for hours, getting rid of fuel. I've never been so scared in my life."

"But you did land safely."

"Yes," I admitted.

"With me as the pilot and having checked the plane myself, nothing bad will happen this time."

"I-I just can't. I had to be heavily sedated last time, and even that didn't stop my panic."

"It's okay to be afraid. I'll be with you. Right beside you the entire ride."

"I can't do it."

"Yes, you can." Pulling away, he left one arm draped possessively around my shoulders. He began walking again, slowly this time. I didn't protest, just let him lead the way. "The best medicine for fear is confrontation."

Confrontation. That word made me queasy. Still, I pushed a puff of air past my lips. "You're right," I said. "I know you're right, but that doesn't stop me from wishing you were wrong."

He didn't reply, giving me time to overcome my riotous fears.

"I'll do it." I forced myself to say the words. "I will. I'll do it."

The hand at my shoulder tightened. "Good girl. Come on," he said, quickening his pace and forcing me to keep up. "It's not as bad as you think." Unfortunately, we had reached the plane. The death trap.

How could something so heavy stay in the air? Small as it was, it looked like it weighed a gazillion pounds, with a heavy white metal body and wide expanse of wings.

"Let me prove how safe it is. You'll love every second in the air so much you'll beg me to take you again."

Not in this lifetime.

The terror I had managed to set aside while snuggled in the crook of his arm reared its ugly head again, stronger than before, mocking my determination to push onward. That terrible ringing erupted in my ears once more, so loud I almost screamed in fright.

Blood rushed from my head, running like ice through my veins. The overnight bag I held fell from my cold, clammy fingers and thumped to the ground. For the space of a heartbeat, the world around me disappeared, replaced by bright, blinking lights. Then the blackened tar beneath my feet shifted, consuming my vision, squelching all hint of light. Why did I feel like I was falling slowly, falling down?

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, everything quiet. I searched through a dark mist for Royce.

"Naomi," I heard him call. It sounded as if he stood at the end of a long, narrow tunnel. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

The heavy shroud around my mind began to recede and the fog clouding my thoughts thinned. Suddenly, I saw Royce. He was staring down at me, his features drawn tight with worry.

Why was he worried? I blinked in confusion. Slowly comprehension dawned. And with it came mortification.

Holy Mother of God, I'd fainted. Never in my life had I done anything so childish. My inner Tigress finally decided to show herself, only to roar in displeasure. Displeasure with me, not Royce. Weakling, she said.

"Come on. Talk to me," Royce said again.

"I'm all right," I assured him, my voice little more than a whisper.

When I tried to sit up, he gently held me down. "Not yet. You shouldn't move. I'm calling the paramedics. Hang on."

"No." Stronger now, I squeezed his hand. "I'm fine. Really."

"I don't believe you." The anxiety darkening his eyes warmed me. Seeing it made me feel as if a blanket had been placed over my body, heating my flesh, giving me strength. Tentatively, I reached up, touched the side of his cheek with my fingertips.

"I'm not hurt. I promise."

After a terse nod, he replaced his cell phone in his bag and helped me to my feet. Thankfully, I felt no ill effects from my rendezvous with the ground. I tried to smooth the wrinkles from my slacks.

"We can stay," he sighed, surprising me.

I brightened instantly. "Really?"

"Damn it." He jerked a hand down his face. "It was like watching you in slow motion as your knees buckled and you plummeted to the ground. I wasn't able to do anything except catch you and lower you the rest of the way." He massaged his neck. "I'll get your bag and take you home."

"No." The intensity of that one word shocked him, as well as myself, but something had just hit me with the force of a jackhammer. I was acting like the old Naomi, the doormat afraid of the world. I wasn't that woman anymore, and that meant I had to be strong. "I can do this. I can. It's time to conquer my fear, just like you said. Besides, my inner Tigress will kill me if I don't."