The doctor stayed facing her, still standing only inches from the bed. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His eyes moved down to her mouth. “Do you have any questions for me?”
There was one that had been on her mind since Valentine visited her last night, one that both girls wanted the answer to.
“Are you this nice to all of your patients?” As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. “I’m sorry. I …” She paused, not knowing where to go from here, her face getting redder by the second.
The doctor smiled, his hand moving to the side railing of her bed. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Honey pushed her head into the pillow, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him, searching her memory for his face. Slowly, as she continued to stare at him, the haze began to wear off.
And it came to her.
“I remember.”
Jared
“I’m Billie Paige,” she said, holding her hand out to me.
Her grip wasn’t tiny or weak. Neither was her personality. What she had was an old soul that went beyond her age, telling me there was nothing immature about the beautiful woman sitting next to me.
“Sounds a bit silly,” she continued. “I just told you half my life story, and you didn’t even know my name. Maybe we were supposed to meet in reverse.”
We had already flown through the clouds, and I hadn’t said more than a few words.
I liked it that way, and I liked listening to her talk.
But sitting in this chair, on this plane, was the biggest mindfuck of my life.
Still holding her hand, I said, “Jared Morgan. Nice to meet you, Billie.”
Her head tilted a little to the side, a smile covering her mouth. “You can ask.” Her grip loosened, but she was slow to pull her hand away. “Everyone does.”
It took me a second to figure out what she was referring to, and then I went with the obvious choice. “Someone a Billie Holiday fan?”
She shook her head. “Billie Burke.”
“Billie Burke,” I repeated, and then it came to me. “From Wizard of Oz.”
“She was Glinda, the Good Witch, and also my mother’s favorite actress.”
When her grin changed, when it deepened—turning even more genuine, more breathtaking—I looked away, staring at my hands, keeping my gaze there. That was much safer than looking at her.
“I’m impressed you knew that,” she said.
I heard someone approach from behind and turned just in time to see a flight attendant about to pass our row, the first one to come by since we’d taken off.
“Excuse me.” She stopped in front of my seat, and I added, “Is there any way you can bring us some drinks?”
“Once we reach cruising altitude, that shouldn’t be a problem. What can I get you?”
“I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks. The best brand you have.”
Billie answered, “Mimosa, thanks.”
“Just give me a few minutes,” she responded and continued down the aisle.
The break I’d taken from Billie’s eyes wasn’t long, but I needed it. Especially when our stares connected again, and her eyes were even fierier than before.
“What do you do, Jared?”
Soon, I would have a drink in my hand, we would be at a steady pace, and it would appear as though I’d survived the takeoff.
I was sure she would think that.
Except the feeling I had inside of me wasn’t about the takeoff at all.
Billie
I’d met hundreds of people during my travels, characteristics ranging from the most interesting to painfully boring and every level in between. There was nothing bland about Jared Morgan. Everything I’d seen so far only intrigued me more, and I desperately wanted him to keep talking.
Ironically, he was a man of few words.
He rubbed his hand over his thigh and finally answered my question, “I work in the security industry.”
Each pass over his leg sent me more of his scent. Even though it was subtle, it was present, and when I got a whiff of my coffee, I found myself searching for his cologne instead.
“That means, you’re either techy or the protective type.” My stare deepened as I took in his face, but I didn’t need to. I knew it all, along with the answer. “Protective. Definitely.”
“You’re correct.”
I was going to have to dig.
I was fine with that.
“Tell me your story, Jared. I want to know how someone gets into your field.”
He crossed his leg, the heel of his leather shoe facing me. He didn’t notice me staring at the size of it because he was focused on the front of the plane.
“In college, I was good friends with some of the guys on the football team. One of them got drafted in the first round of the NFL and landed a starting position.” His hand went to his tie, loosening the knot. “He was a magnet for trouble, and his coaches insisted on a bodyguard. He called me.”
This was the most he had spoken, and there was a change in his voice. A smoothness to it that I hadn’t heard before, like the filter was gone and was releasing a clue.
“How long were you his bodyguard?”
He was looking at his wrist when he said, “Three years.” He unhooked the cuff link and began to roll his sleeve. “An injury forced him to retire.”
“I imagine you jumped right in with someone else?”
He stopped just below his elbow, revealing a tanned forearm and dark hair. “Things were busy at that point.” He started on the other arm. “I already had a few bodyguards working for me and some office staff, and we continued to grow.”
“How many employees do you have now?”
The muscles in his jaw flexed as though he were grinding his teeth. “Three hundred.”
“Wow.” My eyes widened; my lips stayed parted. I hadn’t expected him to say that. “Congratulations. That’s a hell of an accomplishment.”
He gave me a nod, and if I hadn’t been looking at him, I would have missed it.
He didn’t take compliments well.
I learned that immediately.
The flight attendant suddenly appeared with our drinks. “Here you go,” she sang, opening Jared’s tray table and placing his whiskey on it. She did the same with mine and set the mimosa in the middle.
I barely had my fingers around the cup when Jared handed her a card and said, “For both.”
“I can’t let you pay,” I told him.
He didn’t look at me. He just gave her a signal, and she stuck the card into her handheld device.
I waited until she was gone to say, “Thank you.” His wallet went back in his pocket, and when his drink was in his hand, I held mine out in his direction. “Even though this round should be on me, cheers.”
He watched our glasses clink, and then his eyes slowly lifted to mine. “Cheers.”
It was one word.
A single syllable.
There was nothing special about the combination of letters.
But when they came out of Jared’s mouth, mixed with the grittiness of his voice, a heat trickled over my skin, and a smile made its way across my face.
He didn’t notice. His stare was now on the cup that he was bringing up to his lips. He took a single swallow before he set it down.
I did the same, stopping when I heard the ding come through the speaker and the announcement that followed.
“The captain has turned off the seat belt sign. You are now free to move about the cabin.”
I took off my seat belt and slid to the end of my seat. This was the only part I disliked about being next to the window. “It’s my turn,” I said to him now that his gaze had returned to his newspaper.
He quickly glanced at me, and then he stood, backing into the aisle. Holding my coffee and mimosa, I moved past his seat and stepped into the space in front of him.
Normally, I would think nothing of being this close. Living in Manhattan, we were used to tight areas on the sidewalks, tr
ains, in our small apartments.
But my mind wasn’t full of nothingness as I was standing in front of Jared.
And those thoughts, only ingredients at this point, made me pause.
In that brief moment, I took in his scent once again and the warmth from his body that was inches away, and I wondered why he hadn’t given me more room. And as I turned, I whispered, “Thank you,” before I headed to the front of the plane.
Honey
Spring 1984
As Honey stared at the handsome doctor, the memories of their first time meeting all began to unravel in her head. It had occurred the week before, making quite the impression on her. That was why she was surprised she hadn’t recognized him when he walked in.
“You were in too much pain last night,” he said. “I knew you didn’t make the connection.”
Honey agreed. “I couldn’t open my eyes, but I have no excuse for today.” Embarrassment was showing on her face, and she wished she could bury herself under the blanket.
“You’ve had anesthesia, and we’ve kept you pretty medicated. Trust me when I say, I won’t hold it against you.”
He was grinning now, and Honey found herself doing the same, just like when she’d met him at the DMV last week.
She had been working there since graduating high school and was responsible for making the IDs. Andrew came in for a new license, trading in his Virginia license to become a Maine resident.
Honey took the picture, and she asked him to smile as she aimed the lens at his beautiful face.
Once that part was over, most people sat in the waiting area, not approaching the counter again unless Honey called their number.
Not Andrew.
He stood not far from where she was working, striking up a conversation almost immediately. It was then that she learned he had just moved to Portland, and he was in the hunt for some fun things to do and good places to eat. So, while his photo processed, she told him about her favorite trails and the parks throughout the area and some restaurants around town. By the time she handed him his license, he had enough to keep himself busy for weeks.
Before he’d left the DMV, he had thanked her twice.
“I appreciate that,” she said.
“I went to Burnt Island Light a few days ago. Took a break from the hospital and ate my lunch there. It was beautiful.”
That was one of the lighthouses she had told him about, and she was pleased he had taken her suggestion. “I love it there.”
The monitor made a noise, and the doctor looked at it before returning his gaze to her. “That day you helped me, I had come straight from the hospital.” He sighed, his hand tugging his hair. “I wasn’t having a very good morning … until I saw you.”
Honey felt herself start to wiggle in bed, each shift a reminder that she’d just had surgery yesterday.
From him.
The thought caused her breathing to speed up.
“You went out of your way, Honey … and as someone new to this town, it meant a lot to me.” Both of his hands now rested on the railing. They were close but still not touching her.
She smiled. “I’m happy I could help.”
The doctor held her stare for several more seconds, and then he backed away from the bed. “Take care of those incisions,” he said, and then he turned and walked out.
Jared
Billie was walking down the aisle toward the lavatory at the front of the plane, but just seconds before, she had been standing in front of me. I’d kept her close on purpose, wanting to see if the connection was as strong when we were on our feet.
It was.
And then our eyes had locked, her lips had parted, and I had seen right through her stare—what she was feeling, what she wanted. What she thought of me.
It was flattering that a woman as gorgeous and as successful as Billie Paige would be attracted to me when I was obviously much older than her. But that was all this was—an attraction.
Because Billie was off-limits.
Right before she turned to go in the restroom, my stare dropped to her ass. It was perfect, round at the bottom, dips on each side that would fit my hands just right.
I forced myself to look away, ending the tease, and glanced out the window on the other side of the plane and then behind me as drinks were being served. I listened for sounds that could distract me—the rattle of the glass liquor bottles, the soft chatter, the click from the overhead bins being opened.
It didn’t work. Every opportunity I had, I looked for her.
And each time, I wondered why.
I downed the rest of the whiskey, and I was chewing on an ice cube when she walked out. The clothes she had on hugged her body. A body that, from the front, had even more curves and arches and—
Fucking Christ, Jared.
Putting my mind there was not where it needed to be.
I focused on the ground, and when I stood this time, I kept my gaze down and took several steps back, so she wasn’t as close.
“Thank you,” she said when she entered the row.
As she went to her seat, I smelled her in the air. The scent was sweeter than vanilla, more like buttercream.
That didn’t surprise me.
“Jared …” she said after a few seconds, causing me to look up, my stare moving from her eyes to her mouth and back. “Do you—” Fear came across her face, and her hands immediately went to her ears where she pressed her palms against them.
I did the same, except it didn’t help.
Nothing could.
Because what pierced my ears was the loudest sound I’d ever heard in my life.
Honey
Spring 1984
When Honey returned home from the hospital, Valentine got her into bed and set a glass of water on the nightstand along with a box of tissues and the TV remote. She even went to the pharmacy and picked up Honey’s prescriptions and brought her some chicken soup on the way back.
Since it was a Friday, Honey had the whole weekend to relax. Valentine decided to call in sick, too, and the girls spent the next two days watching movies in Honey’s bed. They were just starting 9 to 5 when the phone rang late Sunday morning.
“Can you reach it?” Valentine asked since it was on Honey’s side of the bed.
Holding her side, she carefully rolled until her fingers found the phone, and then she lifted it off the cradle, the long, curly cord following her as she held it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Honey?”
Tingles spread through her stomach when she heard the doctor’s voice. “Yes.”
“It’s Andrew, your surgeon.”
Honey laughed, holding her abdomen even tighter. She wouldn’t ever forget what he sounded like, and she wanted to tell him that but instead said, “Hi.” She looked at Valentine and mouthed, It’s the doctor.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I’m awake.”
There was silence and then, “How are you feeling?”
It had been about forty-eight hours since Honey left the hospital. She knew he was under no obligation to make this phone call. Once she had been discharged, she was responsible for following up with her own doctor, not Andrew.
He was calling because he cared.
And that meant the world to her.
“I’m doing much better than when you saw me last. That’s thanks to you.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” There were hospital sounds in the background, telling her he was at work. “I want to ask you something.”
She glanced at her roommate, her heart pounding with anticipation. “Okay.”
“I was wondering if you’d want to have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
When Honey’s eyes widened, Valentine shot up in bed, and she came in closer.
Honey held the phone between them and replied, “I would love to.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“Perfect.” She smiled as Valentine gently squeezed her shoulder. “Do you need my address?”
As she set the phone back on the cradle, she glanced at her roommate and was met with an interesting expression.
She was about to ask what the half-smile, half–head tilt meant when Valentine said, “You look like you want to marry the man.”
Honey laughed. “He’s cute; that’s all. I’m flattered he wants to go out with me.”
“You can’t go out with him.”
Honey was positive her expression matched her roommate’s. She was so confused, unable to think of a single reason why she shouldn’t have dinner with him. With her being only twenty-three, he was obviously older, but she didn’t see a problem with that.
She didn’t see a problem with any of it.
“Why not?” she finally asked.
“He’s married.”
Two words a single woman never wanted to hear.
A tightness formed in Honey’s chest, and there was a shakiness in her hands that had her fingers trembling. “How do you know?”
Valentine had never met him. He had left Honey’s room long before her roommate arrived at the hospital to pick her up. But when she was discharged, Andrew had been standing at the nurses’ station, and Honey had pointed him out to her roommate.
Honey believed her best friend was wrong. That was the only conclusion she could come up with. Because what she had just said didn’t make any sense at all.
“He was wearing a gold band on his ring finger.” She dipped her head, questioning her friend. “I’m surprised you missed it.”
Honey was surprised by that too.
Billie
When I first heard the noise, my hands slapped against my ears, my fingers not nearly thick enough to block out the sound. Nothing had ever been that loud before. Not fireworks, not the gun range, not even the hardest crack of thunder.
Don't Break This Kiss (Top Shelf Romance Book 5) Page 81