His lips curved. “Thanks.”
"My being here hasn't interfered with your plans for today has it?"
“No.”
“No rugby thing this weekend?”
“No,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Maybe next.”
A wave of nervousness washed over me. The embarrassment from last night started creeping in. Did I really jump on his lap and kiss him like that?
“You are far too deep in thought,” he observed. “Would you like some breakfast? I don't know about you, but the morning after a night of serious drinking always calls for a cheesy omelet with toast. At least for me it does."
My stomach growled on cue. It never turned down food. Alastair stood up and headed toward the kitchen.
"It's settled then. Follow me.”
He prepared two very cheesy omelets for us to eat. I waited patiently at the table, sipping tea while he laid out the plates, silverware, toast and butter. Everything smelled divine. I ate enthusiastically, savoring each bite.
“What?” I arched an eyebrow.
"I'm rather enjoying watching you eat."
“Are you?” I brought the fork to my mouth. So help me, his entire body just trembled. Or was he just shifting in his chair? Either way, his subtle movements drove me crazy. “How’s yours?”
Without missing a beat, he flashed a broad smile and ate a forkful of cheesy eggs. If there has ever been a more distracting mouth on the planet, please show it to me because damn, he made eating an omelet look illegal. “It’s okay.”
Inexplicably, his expression hardened and he paled slightly. He was quiet for several seconds. Our flirty little eating game was apparently over. We finished our breakfast in silence.
I helped clear the table and leaned against the doorframe in the kitchen as Alastair loaded the dishwasher. He was even mind-numbingly gorgeous being domestic; hair all disheveled, dark blue pajamas bottoms hanging perfectly at his hips, a long sleeved cotton shirt clinging to his toned torso.
"I took the liberty of placing all your toiletries in the bathroom for whenever you'd like to shower. There are towels as well." He put the last plate in the dishwasher. "I have some work to finish, so the house is yours."
As he passed by, he reached out and squeezed my waist gently, making me jump.
"Someone's ticklish," he grinned, walking down the hallway.
I took a second to recover, then scurried off to take a shower. Alastair wasn’t kidding about leaving my things in the bathroom. Neatly lined up on the counter were my shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, razor, shaving cream, pretty much my entire supply of beauty products. His bathroom was stunning. I stared enviously at the large, egg shaped tub wondering if he ever used it … and who with.
The shower alone was the size of a walk-in closet. Wrapped in limestone tile, it had a rain head, a hand spray and multiple wall sprays. There was even a bench that, I would imagine, comes in handy for shower shenanigans.
Stop thinking about him like that.
After taking a leisurely, hot shower, I packed the rest of my belongings. I could still catch a late afternoon flight back to Orlando if we left for the airport in the next hour or so. Once I finished dressing, I went back to his office. Alastair was still typing away.
"What are you listening to?"
"John Field. He's an Irish pianist and composer. Do you like it?"
"I like classical music. It's very soothing."
Alastair nodded with approval. "I couldn't agree more."
Watching him work in such a casual atmosphere intrigued me. Dressed in his pajamas, he sat with perfect posture. His head tilted slightly to the right as he typed out a few quick lines. Intelligence and professionalism reflected in his eyes and serious expression. All that was missing was a three-piece suit. The visual gave me goose bumps.
"I'm not bothering you, am I?"
"Not at all. Just finishing up an email.” He closed the laptop. "You seem to be much better."
"I am, thank you. Not to inflate your ego or anything, but that omelet had something to do with it."
His throaty laugh filled the room. "Consider my ego fully inflated."
A cluster of framed photos hanging by the window caught my attention. I walked over to get a closer look. Some of them were very old, others were more recent. One in particular caught my eye. A little boy, no older than five or six, was throwing a handful of leaves over his head. He was sitting on the grass alone, looking up as the leaves fluttered around him. It was a joyful photo, except for the lack of any happiness on his face. Especially in his beautiful eyes. They were listless and sad.
"Is this you?"
“Yes,” he answered tightly, walking towards me.
The pain behind his eyes was immense. He stared at the photo of his younger self, clenching and unclenching his fists. His despair filled me with sadness. I wanted to see him smile.
“You used to be cute, Holden. What happened?”
Mischief replaced the pain in his eyes a split second before he grabbed at my waist and squeezed. I yelped like a scared puppy and tried to break free. He mistook my genuine reaction of panic for carefree joy and tickled me faster. I tried like hell to stop him, but the expression on his face halted me in my protests. His shielded eyes were free. They were gleaming and happy and full of life. Alastair’s radiant smile lit up the entire room. When he finally stopped with his tickle assault, I giggled myself right into a bookcase sending several books tumbling off the shelf.
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” I scrambled to pick them up.
“It’s okay. I’ll get them.” He knelt down and gathered the escaped novels. Seeing him bent down on his knees made my heart flutter a little. When he glanced up at me, insecurity possessed his features for the briefest of seconds. He stood up quickly and shelved them.
“I’ve never had to rescue my books from a hysterically laughing, stumbling girl before.”
“There’s a first time for everything, right?”
The window into his soul snapped shut as he regained his calm, impassive demeanor. “I’ve arranged for your flight home, in case you were wondering.”
His switch to all business was a little jarring.
“Which airline?”
“My plane.”
Of course he has a plane. What normal, billionaire CFO in his early thirties doesn’t? I hated that this was my initial reaction.
“Let’s go for a ride to the hangar. That way you can see for yourself and I’ll introduce you to the flight crew. If the plane looks too dodgy for your liking, we’ll get you set up on a commercial airliner. Alright?”
He sounded so sincere; I’d be remiss to thumb my nose at his kind gesture.
“Sure.”
“Brilliant. I'm going to shower. Wait for me in the living room."
* * *
Our drive out of Glasgow started off benignly enough. I settled into his gray Mercedes SLK55 Roadster comfortably. The interior was gorgeous; black with soft leather seats. Very sporty.
“Have you ever driven a car while in the UK?" He glanced at me out the corner of his eye.
"Nope."
"Would you like to try?"
"Driving? Here? No way."
"Why not?"
"First of all, I can't drive a stick. Plus, I don't want to be responsible for crashing your sexy little car."
Alastair laughed good and loud. "Sexy little car? Never heard it referred to that way before."
“So, do you always fly complete strangers thousands of miles on your private plane?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could.
“Not generally,” he shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering. Do you use it for business travel?”
“Mostly.”
“You never just hop on it and tell the pilot to take you somewhere remote?”
“Hasn’t crossed my mind to do that,” he admitted. “Where would I go?”
“I don’t know. Fiji?”
“You ask too many questions, kitten,”
he teased.
“Come on,” I pressed. “You mean to tell me you don’t go anywhere?”
“My life isn’t as glamorous as you may think, Lia.”
I grumbled to myself and got lost in the music for a bit. I knew what was coming. My curiosity was rather insatiable but I had a crazy need to know everything, especially when it came to people in Alastair’s position. I can blame Nathan for that.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were the heir to your grandfather’s company?”
“I didn’t know I had to.”
“You didn’t. But it’s not a small detail.”
“You clearly found out on your own,” he answered stiffly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Up until this point, I’d been enjoying the way he handled the car; fluidly, controlled and confident. Now, he seemed annoyed.
“It just would have been nice if you’d told me yourself.”
“Why does it matter?”
“I have my reasons,” I said, grinding my teeth. “Or don’t you know them already?“
“What are you talking about?” His voice was even and calm, but I could sense he was keeping something from me.
“People in your position often have an insatiable urge to investigate anyone who wants access to their inner circle.“
Getting involved with a high profile person wasn’t for the faint of heart. Not that we were ‘involved.’ My breakup with Nathan was still fresh and the emotional scars hadn’t healed yet.
“I’ve been around this before,” I continued. “You probably sent my name to your security team the day we met.”
The blank expression on his face should have stopped my ramblings. Unfortunately, my insecurities were running wild.
“Lia, you’re being—”
“What?” I interrupted, nearly shrieking. “I’m being paranoid? Ridiculous?” Anxiety hijacked my thought process. All my pent up hostility and hurt bubbled to the surface. “You’re all alike. You guys turn stalking into a recreational sport.”
Heavy silence filled the car. Only the growling drone of the engine made a sound. I sunk my nails into the leather seat, trying like hell to regain some semblance of my dignity.
We didn’t speak for what seemed like ever. A burning lump slowly worked its way up my throat. I swallowed it down, wincing from the discomfort. Why did I have to say all that?
“Sorry,” I whispered. Alastair nodded, keeping his eyes glued to the road.
A young man dressed in a security uniform greeted us at the airport’s security gate.
“Hello, Mr. Holden. Nice to see you again." He leaned down to the window and peered in. Alastair greeted him and the two exchanged pleasantries. The guard pointed to a parking area by the hangar and directed Alastair to leave his car there. "Enjoy your flight, sir."
Apprehension seeped out of my pores. I wanted to kick myself for being such a lunatic with all my ridiculous questions and accusations. Goosebumps rose across my skin as a cool breeze gently blew across the tarmac. I stood next to the car, staring at the hangar. Alastair placed his hand at the small of my back, leading me inside.
Pointed toward the exit was a sleek, white Learjet. Two men were having a conversation by the wing. I blinked and swallowed hard, scanning the plane. It was stunning, like the kind celebrities used when they're jetting off to a premiere in the south of France. On the fuselage written in bold black letters was the name Holden World Media.
"Alastair, you don't have to do this. I can fly home on a regular plane. This is completely unnecessary.”
“I promised your friend I’d get you home safely. I’m a man of my word.” He waved someone over. “Kevin, this is Amelia Meyers. She’ll be flying with you tomorrow.”
Kevin smiled politely, extending his hand. I shook it firmly. “Good to see you, Miss Meyers. I understand you live in Orlando? I may schedule a longer layover for myself once we arrive. The beaches must be lovely this time of year.”
I laughed in spite of myself. Everyone loves the beach. Alastair and Kevin talked shop for several minutes, so I strolled around the plane. In a word, it was huge. Avoiding coach with screaming kids and cramped spaces was a tempting idea.
“What do you think?” Alastair’s velvety voice cut through the air.
“It’s not that dodgy.” I grinned.
“I’m glad you approve. It’s all yours if you want to use it.”
“I don’t deserve your generosity.”
When I looked into his eyes, they darkened. He grabbed my shoulders and brought our foreheads together. “Jesus Lia, just accept the gift,” he whispered.
I froze. Even after all the bullshit I spouted off in the car, he still wanted to do this for me?
"If I agree to this, I'll be in your debt for, well, probably forever. I can't accept it, Alastair. I just can't."
I glanced at the gleaming white plane and sighed.
“Consider it, then? The crew knows to be ready if they're needed. You don't have to give me an answer now."
At some point, I had to believe that not every guy was a substandard human.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I curled up on the bed, snuggling into the pillows. Alastair was in the kitchen making us some tea. The floor creaked in the hallway as he made his way into the bedroom. The wooden tray he carried held the mugs along with milk, honey and sugar.
"I'm not sure how you take your tea, so I brought in everything."
“It’s fine with just honey." I sat up and criss-crossed my legs.
Alastair squeezed a teaspoonful of honey into one of the mugs. He blew on the steaming drink and handed it to me carefully before sitting on the edge of the bed. We sipped in silence for a few minutes. The atmosphere in the room was heavy. Not uncomfortable, but certainly tinged with a level of uncertainty. A familiar pain began to grow and spread through my chest, suffocating me. For no good reason, my fingertips and toes turned into ice cubes. A distinct crushing sensation prevented any air from getting into my lungs properly.
“Hey,” he whispered, noticing the change. “What’s wrong?”
I sat as stiff as a board, clasping my hands around the mug until the knuckles turned white. Of all the times to have a panic attack, this had to be the worst.
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine,” he admonished, taking the mug. “Your hands are freezing and you’re pale.”
My heart pounded, frantically trying to escape. I couldn’t look at Alastair, not when I was in this state. Only the touch of his skin on mine kept me from going off the deep end. Closing my eyes, I focused on the warmth and softness of his hand on my cheek. It soothed me in a way I never expected.
The mattress jostled as he repositioned himself. Pulling me into his chest, he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly. I slid my arms around his waist, wanting to stay like this for the rest of the day. I wasn’t even aware that he’d been whispering to me until his breath tickled my ear. Being surrounded by the feel and scent of him tamed my furious heart. I sighed heavily, nuzzling into his shirt.
“Your heartbeat slowed down,” he said, unwrapping me from his embrace. I opened my eyes, stunned to see clear, bright emerald irises focused on me.
“How do you know?”
“I could feel it.” He put my hand on his chest. “Right here. Hammering away like a scared rabbit.”
That little grin could melt the polar ice caps. I smiled, feeling my cheeks heat up.
“I’ve made you smile. That’s a good sign.”
“Don’t push your luck, Holden,” I grinned, pushing him back gently.
“Feisty.”
He pressed a small kiss to the corner of my mouth. The gentleness surprised me, making my brain go fuzzy.
“I have to go finish up some work. You can stay here and rest if you want, or roam around the house.”
"Work? On a Sunday? I take it this isn’t one of your free weekends?”
“Not quite as free as last weekend, no. We have some investors coming in tomorrow and I ha
ve to do a presentation. It won't take me long, I promise." He gracefully lifted himself off the bed and left the room.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through a few emails. Nothing from Stephanie yet. It was only quarter past four. She still had another few hours before arriving in Orlando. I decided to do a little exploring, as Alastair suggested. I hadn’t really been able to see the whole house yet, and since he was busy, I could snoop around uninterrupted.
Slipping off the bed, I walked to the hall and through the kitchen. For some reason, I really wanted to see his living room, which I assumed was where he’d spend the majority of his time relaxing.
Plush cream carpets spread from wall to wall. On the far side of the room was a fireplace. Two oversized, charcoal gray couches were set in the center. Neutral tones were prevalent throughout, with subtle, rich accents of color.
It was gorgeous, but lacked the cozy, homey feeling I felt at the cottage. Aside from a large black and white photo of London, there weren’t any personal effects. No photos of friends, no photos of family, and, most notably, no photos of a girlfriend. I leaned against one of the couches, grazing my fingers on the material. Beautiful, but too perfect. A person’s home should reflect who they were, inside and out. All I gathered from Alastair’s home were things I already knew about him: pristine, elegant and well put together. Another mask to hide his true self.
Sighing, I went back to the bedroom and read a little. Once the sun dipped below the horizon, I couldn’t ignore the hunger pangs gnawing at my stomach.
I crept down the hallway to Alastair's office. The door was wide open. He was leaning back in his chair reading through a folder with his feet propped up on the desk. He looked almost regal as he pinched his lips between his thumb and forefinger. Even in jeans and a sweater, he was the epitome of quiet control and power. It was sexy as hell.
“Hi.”
"Hello." He placed the folder down, waving me in. "Did you have a nice time snooping around?”
“I wouldn’t call it snooping. More like a self-guided tour. Did you get all your work done?”
“More or less.”
Something in his stare made me flush. He looked at me with such longing it unnerved me. I averted my gaze and turned to the cluster of photos hanging on the wall. I was still so drawn to the sad little boy in the leaves.
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