“Mr. Kane,” the attendant said, looking up from my passport to me, then back to the passport. “Flying to Melbourne, correct, sir?”
I nodded. She tapped away on her keyboard. “I have a Ms. Nash traveling on this booking, too.”
“She’s not coming,” I said curtly, despondency weighing heavily on my shoulders.
“Right you are, sir,” the attendant replied in a bright tone, as though it was a good thing.
I scowled, but she was too busy staring at her screen to notice.
“How many items of luggage are you checking in?”
“One,” I said. I always traveled light. All my race gear would be shipped out with the team, and considering I’d be spending most of my time at the track, I didn’t need a lot of additional stuff.
“Pop it on the belt for me, sir.”
As I picked it up, a commotion broke out behind me. I turned around in time to see Paisley sprinting across the departure hall, dragging two bright-pink suitcases behind her, her face flushed red, and her short, dark hair stuck out at all angles as though she’d been raking it with her fingertips.
“Jared,” she yelled, drawing the attention of half the passengers milling around. “Tell them to wait for me.”
I broke out into a grin as Paisley wheeled one of her cases over a woman’s foot, threw out a half apology, and barreled on her way. She was a force of nature, and where the clouds of doom had settled over me when I’d thought she’d bailed, now, they lifted.
She careened to a halt beside me and playfully bumped my shoulder. “I bet you thought I wasn’t coming.”
“Or hoped,” I said drily, but she guessed I was joking because I received a dig in the ribs.
“Meanie.” She flicked my arm, which made me laugh, and handed over her passport to the attendant.
I lifted one of her suitcases to put it on the belt and let out a faux groan. “Jesus, Paisley, what the hell have you got in here?”
She shrugged. “Women need things.”
I rolled my eyes. “You might want to warn the baggage handlers,” I said to the check-in lady who knowingly smiled.
We received our boarding passes and headed to the fast-track security lane.
“Here,” Paisley said, handing me a clear plastic bag of potions, lotions, and makeup.
“What do I need that for?”
She stroked a hand over my cheek. A tremor rolled through me at her touch.
“Gotta keep your baby-soft skin moisturized in the air,” she said, grinning.
I shot her a reproachful look, and she laughed.
“I’m only allowed to take one bag through, and I have two. Suck it up, mister. No one cares if you’ve got a bag full of women’s things in your tray.”
I tried to keep my expression stern, but Paisley made it far too difficult to stay mad at her for long.
“Give it to me,” I grumbled, putting the bag in the tray, along with my cell phone, watch, and a few coins.
“Girlfriends, hey,” the security agent said, pointing his chin at the plastic bag full of Paisley’s female items. “Mine is exactly the same.”
I opened my mouth to correct him on the girlfriend thing when Paisley slipped her arm around my waist, gave my ass a squeeze, and purred, “But you’ll do anything for your baby-boo, won’t you, cutie pie?”
Laughing, the agent gestured for me to enter the body-check machine. I reached the other side without incident. Paisley caught up to me as I refastened my watch. I glared down at her.
“Fucking ‘cutie pie’?”
She gave me one of those full-on smiles that twisted my insides with need and winked. “I bet you’d prefer ‘hotshot’, or ‘big boy’.”
“Jared will do just fine,” I replied.
“Given those buns I copped a feel of, I might go with ‘tight arse’ or, if you don’t mellow out, ‘uptight arse’.”
I shouldn’t encourage her. From what I’d observed, Paisley needed little incentive to tease me, but I couldn’t help it. Her zest for life was infectious. Before she had a clue as to my intention, I picked her up and tossed her over my shoulder. She squealed loudly, and we attracted a lot of attention, but I didn’t care. I swatted her ass, hard, and she yelped.
“Jared Kane, put me down,” she demanded.
“I will as soon as you promise to behave.”
I grabbed our bags with my free hand and strode through the crowds toward the VIP lounge.
“You are in so much trouble, uptight arse,” she said, but she was laughing so hard, I could barely make out the words.
I nudged open the door to the lounge with my toe and strode through. The woman sitting behind the welcome desk looked up, and her eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline when she found herself greeted by my face and Paisley’s butt.
“One adult, one child,” I said. “Jared Kane and Paisley Nash. She’s the child in case you were wondering.”
Paisley’s whole body shook with uncontrollable giggles.
The woman ticked us off a list while trying to maintain a professional demeanor. “Of course, sir, miss. Please, help yourselves to our facilities.”
I strolled through the lounge and unceremoniously plunked Paisley down on a couch. She made an “Oomph” sound as she landed. I flopped beside her.
“Next time you call me ‘uptight ass’, I’m going to put you over my knee and spank you until you can’t sit down.”
She batted her eyelashes at me. “Promises promises.”
My heartbeat thundered in my ears at our flirting, and I automatically dampened my lips. Paisley’s gaze dropped to my mouth, and a flash of pink tongue swept across her top lip. Blood rushed to my cock, hardening it.
Time to put a stop to this banter, right now. I quickly stood.
“Anything to eat, or drink?” I asked.
She dipped her chin and looked up at me through her lashes, coyly biting her lip. “A large glass of wine, and some nuts,” she said, her gaze briefly dropping to my groin then tracing those hauntingly beautiful eyes up my body. She laughed at my conflicted expression. “Relax, Jared. I’m talking about the salted kind, not the type covered in fuzz that are crammed into your pants.”
I didn’t bite. That would only play into her hands. Instead, I headed for the bar, her girlish giggles following me. Damn woman. I ordered her wine, and an ice water for me. I needed to make sure Paisley didn’t drink too much, especially given the added potency of alcohol and altitude, although why I’d asserted myself in place as her caregiver was beyond my comprehension.
I set down a bowl of peanuts and her wine. She picked it up and gulped it down as though it was a soft drink.
“Whoa, take it easy,” I said, removing the glass from her hands.
“I need it,” she said, trying to snatch it back.
I shifted it out of her reach and frowned, briefly toying with the fact that Paisley might have a drinking problem. From the evidence witnessed so far, she liked to liberally partake. “What do you mean?”
“I’m scared of flying.”
Phew. Is that all? “No one likes flying. That doesn’t mean you need to get wasted.”
“No, you don’t get it, Jared. I mean I’m really terrified. Like sweats, panic attacks, a tingling in my chest, escalated heartbeats. The whole nine yards. Alcohol helps take the edge off.”
She’d gotten my attention now. I sat up straighter. “But you’ve flown your whole life, right?”
She nodded once. “Yep. But it doesn’t seem to make a difference. And before you suggest hypnotherapy, or seeing a psychiatrist, or taking Diazepam, trust me when I say I’ve tried them all and nothing works. The only thing that makes me get on the plane is this baby.” She reached around me and tightly clutched the glass of wine, as if it were a life vest without which she’d die. “Don’t judge me, Jared.”
I held my arms out to the sides, palms up. “Hey, I didn’t say a word.”
She wagged her finger at me. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Relieved to see Paisley’s jokey manner make a return, I grinned.
By the time they called our flight, she wasn’t exactly drunk, but she couldn’t be described as sober either. Still, she maintained her composure as we walked up the bridge to board the plane, but when the doors came into view, she trembled.
“Hey, come here.” I slung my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into my side. Her whole body shook. “You’re going to be fine, Paisley. I’m with you all the way.”
She didn’t respond, but her arm snaked around my waist, and she tucked her hand into the back pocket of my jeans. I smiled and quivered with pleasure. Paisley didn’t appear to notice—not that unexpected, given the fear coming off her in waves of heat.
I settled her into her first-class seat—I might be frugal, but even I demanded comfort on long haul flights—put our bags into the overhead locker, and left to have a quick word with the flight attendant. I explained about Paisley’s crippling fear. He promised to keep an extra eye out for her. I grabbed two glasses of champagne off the bar.
“Cheers,” I said, handing one of the glasses to her.
“Bottoms up,” she replied, chugging the whole thing at once. She pinched her nose, shook her head, then sneezed. “Sorry. The bubbles get me every time.”
“I’m not surprised, considering you inhaled it.”
She ignored my jibe, clipping her seat belt into place. She tightened it, and then the fidgeting began. Her legs bounced, she picked at the skin around her nails, and bit down on her lip.
“Hey, Pixie Ley,” I said, covering her hand with mine. I gave it a squeeze. “Breathe.”
A glimmer of a smile briefly chased away the fear darkening her features. “Did you just give me a nickname?”
I cleared my throat, realizing she had a point. “Well, it’s better than baby-boo, for Christ’s sake.”
She laughed, her amusement short-lived when the flight attendant closed the door. Tension rolled off her body, and she blindly reached for my hand, her eyes tightly shut.
But when we started pushing back, I became really worried. Her breathing came in gulping gasps, her hand encased within mine soaked in sweat, and her entire body quivered. Dear God, how did she manage to do this as often as she needed to? There were over twenty races in a season, and she’d have to fly to most of them. And that excluded any vacation time that involved getting on an airplane.
I hummed a tune under my breath, hoping to settle her, and half expecting her to tease me for my tone deafness. But Paisley was far too lost in her terror to utter a word, let alone mock me.
The engines increased in volume as the plane sped down the runway. It wasn’t the smoothest of rides. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, and the wind buffeted against the fuselage, and we rocked from side to side.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she chanted over and over.
“It’s okay, Ley,” I said in my most soothing voice, the one I used with my niece when she had a nightmare.
In response, Paisley clutched my hand so hard, she almost cut off my blood supply. I wrestled free and wrapped my arms around her, holding on as tight as I could. She clung to me.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered. “I promise nothing is going to happen.”
“You can’t promise,” she said, hiccupping through the tears that were now falling freely, dampening my shirt.
The plane lifted into the air, and she sucked in a sharp breath then held it. The guy across from us seemed transfixed, almost feeding off her terror. I glared at him until he turned away, but even then, I spotted him eyeing us out of the corner of his eye. Prick.
I rhythmically stroked her hair and comforted her as best I could. Twenty minutes later, the seat belt signs extinguished, and only then did Paisley relax.
“Okay, okay,” she reassured herself, wiping her hands down her jeans. “It’s okay. They wouldn’t turn off the seat belt signs if there was anything wrong.”
I chuckled. “That sounds logical.”
She touched her head to mine, then kissed my cheek. “Thanks, Jared.”
“For what?”
“For not freaking out on me, and for letting me almost break your fingers.”
I flexed them theatrically. “Your dad would kill you.”
She grinned. “Right? Breaking the great Jared Kane before he had chance to take part in his first race. He’d disinherit me.”
The flight attendant interrupted us before I could respond. We ordered drinks—I admit to being mildly relieved when Paisley asked for an apple juice—and he left us with our dinner menus.
“How did your dad feel about us flying out together?” I asked. The answer might give me some insight into what Jack thought of me.
Paisley offered up an embarrassed grin. “Um, he thinks I’m meeting up with a friend.”
I raised my eyebrows. “He wouldn’t approve?”
She nibbled her lip. “I’m sure he’d be fine. It’s just…” She sighed. “I think I mentioned a few weeks ago, the whole paddock still treats me like I’m a kid. They forget I’m all grown up now and able to make my own decisions, and mistakes.”
“Is that what you think this is? A mistake?”
“Oh no. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m really looking forward to showing you around and getting to know you.” She shrugged. “It’s easier this way. Trust me on that.”
I wasn’t sure how comfortable I felt about sneaking around. I was a pretty straight shooter. Hiding shit from people, especially my boss, didn’t sit right.
“I’d rather you were upfront with your father. He is my employer after all.”
“Fair enough. I’ll talk to him once we get settled in. Anyway, it’s not Dad I’m bothered about as much as the others.”
“Others?”
“Yeah. Lewis mainly, who thinks he’s the big brother I never had. But Angus and Devon, too. I told you they forget I’m a grown woman.” She thanked the flight attendant for her drink and took a sip. “I remember bringing this guy I’d had a couple of casual dates with to a race once. I met him at university. By the time the team had finished with him, he was a quivering wreck. Honestly, he could have had them arrested under the Convention against Torture Act.” She sighed. “I never saw him again.”
What a fucking pussy.
“Sounds like you had a lucky escape to me,” I drawled.
She gave me a dig. “I liked him.”
I rubbed the offending area. “If he couldn’t stand his ground and fight for you then he didn’t deserve you.”
She blinked up at me. “Would you fight for me, Jared?”
I swallowed, hard. Oh no, little lady. I’m not having this.
She’d switched from light flirting to full-on panic, and now we were back to flirting again. I knew Paisley found me attractive, and I couldn’t deny I felt the same, or rather my dick felt the same. But it didn’t matter. I was certain Jack wouldn’t approve, and while I’d moved the needle somewhat on the ‘all rich girls are spoiled brats’ o-meter, at least when it came to Paisley, that didn’t mean jumping in the sack with her.
I needed to draw a thick, indisputable line right through her clear invitation.
“I tell you what,” I said, patting her hand like a condescending prick, planting myself firmly with the rest of the crew who treated her like a child. “The next guy you bring to the track, I’ll make sure they give the poor bastard a chance. How’s that?”
Hope faded in her eyes, and then a steeliness came over her, a determination not to let it show my response had remotely bothered her.
“Sounds like a plan.”
And then she plugged in her headphones and turned on the TV. In seconds she was watching a movie, her back very deliberately pointed in my direction.
Terrific. I had a long twenty-some hours ahead.
Paisley
By the time we disembarked in Melbourne, I could barely stand from exhaustion. People in coach thought that travelers in first class—who were pampered and fed a
nd had a seat that turned into a bed at the press of a button—automatically disembarked on the other side fresh as a daisy.
What utter bullshit.
The time difference was a killer regardless of whether you traveled in luxury or in the economy cabin. Some lucky bastards managed to sleep the whole way. I wasn’t one of them, and nor, by the looks of the dark circles underneath his eyes, was Jared. But no matter how tired he appeared, he was still beautiful.
And not remotely interested in me.
I was still smarting from my obvious play being met with brotherly words and the sort of hand pat that your uncle gave you when you were five, before handing over a few coins and telling you to go and buy yourself an ice cream. Twice now, I’d made it abundantly clear I was Jared’s for the taking—at least I assumed I’d made it clear—and twice he’d turned me down.
Well, screw him. He won’t get a third chance.
Liar whispered the devil on my shoulder.
I hated that devil. The bugger was always right.
It took an age to get through immigration. Three large international flights had landed at once, and the infrastructure struggled to cope. Our luggage had already completed two circuits of the carousel by the time we reached the other side.
We headed for the exit. Jared barely said a word, and I felt bad about that. Maybe a few hours’ sleep in a proper bed would help me find my mojo. I couldn’t stay mad at him for long, not least because he didn’t deserve my wrath. If I wanted to win him over, to have him see me as a grown woman—the kind of woman he found attractive—instead of a kid who needed a minder, then I had to stop the petulant outbursts.
We hit heavy traffic on the journey into Melbourne, but, eventually, we arrived outside the hotel I’d recommended to Jared, a boutique intimate establishment rather than a huge, international chain. It also happened to be one of my favorite places to stay in the city.
On stiff legs, I climbed out of the cab. The driver lifted our luggage from the trunk and, wearily, we trudged inside. I didn’t recognize the receptionist from last year, but Melbourne, like most large cities, had a healthy turnover of staff as people went off on their travels or discovered new opportunities.
Friction: Full Velocity Series - Book 1 Page 7