Elizabeth Pearson's heart raced as she tore through the busy airport. She checked her watch. 11:40. Her plane left in five minutes. She held the folder with her papers tucked inside it closer to her chest. If she missed this plane, she would lose her job. And she and Johnny wouldn't be able to make the payments on their house, and they would have nowhere to live...

She blinked hard and shook her head. Now was not the time for her to be thinking about Johnny. She had enough problems at the moment without thinking about her husband. Liz frowned and forced herself to go faster. She looked down to check her watch again.

Suddenly she found herself sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by the papers that had been in her folder. A man with light brown hair and blue eyes was on the floor beside her.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry," he apologized, starting to turn bright red as he gathered some of the papers for her.

"Shit!" she murmured. "Shit, shit, shit!"

He handed the papers to her and she grabbed them angrily and stuffed them back into the folder. There was one more sheet left on the floor, and Liz and the man both reached for it at the same time, bumping heads.

"Ouch!" they both said at the same time. The man laughed, and Liz cracked a weak smile. They looked into each other's eyes. She squinted. She could have sworn that she'd seen him before. The man was just lost in her deep blue eyes which were so much like his own.

"My G-d, you're beautiful," the man breathed.

She held up her left hand, showing him her wedding ring. "I'm also married."

"Go figure," he sighed. This always happened. Every woman he met was always married or taken or interested in one of his friends instead of himself. "Oh, my name is—"

"Brian Littrell," Liz filled in for him. "My friend's little girl is obsessed with your buddy Nick," she explained.

"Oh," Brian replied. He got to his feet and offered her his hand. She did not take it and got up on her own. "Like I said, I'm really sorry."

"You—oh, shit!" she interrupted herself.

"What?"

"I missed the plane! I'm going to lose my job! Thanks a lot!"

"I didn't mean to—"

"That doesn't matter. I'm going to have nowhere to live, no food..." She trailed off as her eyes filled with tears.

"No, please don't cry. I have money, I'll help you," he offered, putting an arm around her shoulders.

She shook it off. "Haven't you done enough? First you make me lose my job, then you try to offer me charity? You celebrity snobs are all the same, thinking that everything can be solved with your millions of dollars!" Liz snapped. She tried to walk by him, but he stopped her and grabbed her wrist. "What the hell is your problem?!"

"Please, there has to be something that I can do...wait, what's your name?"

"Liz. Liz Pearson. Now will you let go of me?" she asked crossly.

"Tell me what I can do to help you."

"You can let me go," Liz suggested wryly.

"Only if you give me your number," Brian replied with a grin, taking out a pen.

"I told you, I'm married!"

"I know, but we can still be friends, right?"

"Oh yeah," she smirked. "My number's 555..."

Brian looked so hurt that she sighed and stopped.

"Okay. (617) 275-2962," she said as he wrote it on the back of his hand. "And I promise that's real."

"So which flight are you on anyway?" Brian asked with a friendly smile.

"1219 to Orlando. Not that it matters now," she mumbled.

"Did you say 1219?"

She nodded.

He laughed. "That's my flight. It's been delayed forty-five minutes."

She smiled. "Are you kidding?"

"No. Come on, maybe you can get a seat next to me or something."


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